Hall of Inspirations 2005
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Posted by tare on 16 June 2005
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Posted by SilverRevo on 16 June 2005
Requiescat In Pace , my heart
Since dawn of my conscience , my soul desires.
This entity , immaculate and sweet to bring joy to me.
Her golden threads , glistening bright flowing hair sways.
Her sparkling eyes , ever limpid as though proclaming her innocence.
Her raiment of pure white , ever so tempted to taint.
Her soft caress , exerts but a gentility only she is able of.
She is infallible , scintillatingly equal to true cleverness.
She speaks , with the voice of my love , music to the ears.
I covet her yet she does not belong to me.
Forever and ever , beyond and after , I shall always love you. -
By ShrodingersCat posted on 18 June 2005
Contact Lens
Barely there
you tremble, glistening with the promises of clarity
sitting on the tip of my finger
Almost there
I tremble, my trepidation and terror betrayed as
my finger travels its purposeful journey
Getting No where
as, with a flicker of lashes,
you decide to fall
and I, decisively, fail -
By SingaporeMacross posted on 19 June 2005
M-16 Rifle
She lay there standing in the rack,
side by side with the other ladies.
A metal chain put through their trigger-guards,
today would be a day of action.
Fall in! Attention! Shoulder Arms!
Present Arms! Semula! Knock it down!
The weight of a woman rests on my hands,
as the smell of gun oil mingles with sweat.
Parade dayÂ’s here, our time has come,
We don our white gloves immaculate.
Yesterday we wear blue, today we wear white,
To much the crowdÂ’s delight.
And when the time comes we lift our guns,
See them rise into the air.
The weapons come down nicely in place;
An approving look on SirÂ’s face!
Parade is over and we keep our rifles,
We finally take our rest.
But back at the stockade the armourers exclaim,
My God, what a mess! -
By dsnake1 posted on 19 June 2005
A Father's Day Card
It was just a yellowed card,
the letter cutouts that were pasted,
a bit askew,
the bunny and teddies,
a tad funny,
and on the paper a finger smudge.
No, I won't changed it for any present,
it was a gift from the heart.
"Dear Daddy, I wish you a Happy Father's Day"
it merely said,
lovingly made and written
by an eight year old innocent.
And when she handed it to me,
her eyes bright and smiling,
both little hands outstretched,
her words a torrent of love,
it was a lighthouse shinning
over uncertain seas
This card will keep reminding
the world is never perfect
but is always worth living. -
By KittynMeow posted on 20 June 2005
Paper Cranes
One for the day when we first met,
Two for days we spend as friends.
Three for days of fun and laughter,
Four for days of chatting till the dayÂ’s end.
Five for weeks of meeting for movies,
Ten for weeks of outings and dining.
Fifteen for weeks of deeper understanding,
Twenty for weeks of knowing each otherÂ’s mind.
Ten for months of wondering if thereÂ’s more,
Twenty for months of being unsure.
Thirty for months of honeymoon coupledom,
Forty for months of just being together.
Twenty for the hours we spent apart,
Forty for the hours doubt left its mark.
Sixty for the hours tears fell on their own,
Eighty for the hours of knowing it's not meant to be.
And five for the loving memory of the one we love most,
365 paper cranes in a bottle. -
By panicTheory posted on 23 June 2005
The Last Minute Thesis
As she sat by the edge of my mind,
Fat and Bloated, she grew larger
her expression candid her smile cruel
alas, the (w)horror! Insurmountable!
her tendrils of guilt trailed
latching on my view of the world
tainting my experiences
like a rot, my spirit suffered
A sphinx, her questions ambiguous
many riddles to come, i passed not one!
with despondence i whimpered
she could not care less.
oh no not her
my resolve sparked a-fire
I entered her between lines
her body paper soft transcribed
Desperation, thou art in words -
By tare posted on 27 June 2005
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By Othello_Red posted on 5 July 2005
Sleepless
SleepÂ’s evasive
At this moment
Mind so active
Thoughts so fluent
Some restful sleep
Is all I need
But lost in thought deep
Just what do I seek? -
By LazerLordz posted on 7 July 2005
The Mall-RatÂ’s Love Tail.
I laid my eyes on you
And never did I think
That days could pass
Like years
And find ourselves with candour
Constant thoughts
And felicity unbound.
Even a simple laugh
Or a ice mint tea
With chewed leaves
Makes me glad
That the altar of pragmatism
Has not gotten to you
And I.
To the extent that
We can still drink tea
And swap jibes
On lonely Wednesday afternoons.
We gazed at glossy books
And swapped sandwiches;
Drank off the joy
And honesty
That you and I hold
So dear.
Like you. -
By ironoxideman posted on 9 July 2005
men-o-war
no need for a watch
when the sky turns dark
we'll know its time to go
get snared in a sea of people
drift,we're jellyfish with the flow
don't worry,don't quiver like jelly
we'll get out of this mold
we don't need to sink so low
we'll float,theres a world above
we'll ride,upon this foamy surf
we'll go places,beyond these little corners
everyone's placed on their maps -
By fallin posted on 10 July 2005
in shattered pieces,
the broken shards.
a fallen glory.
imperfection.
the minute cracks.
An unseen presence
slowly awakening.
imperfection
those quiet words
like a bladeless knife
inducing a silent torture
imperfection. -
By ratincacage posted on 25 July 2005
mortal coil
i wish i know why am i here,
the lines on my face they show the long weary years.
is there all there is to it,
another cycle,maybe even another thirty years.
it will and has ceased to be different,
it will remain the same.
my footsteps has been sank in stone,
its the same old repeating sunrise everyday,
again and again and again.......
i have searched and i have pondered,
thru the hearts of a thousand men i wandered
i believe there must be a calling,
something more substantial,something more real,something.... -
July Poetry Exercise
(Short poem without the letter “e”)
By SingaporeMacross 3rd July 2005
Wash my sin
Fluid pours out quickly,
as a cloud unlocks itÂ’s tap.
A child runs out and plays,
unafraid of catching a chill.
Can I go back to that day,
and undo my sin?
This harsh rain cannot purify,
nor wash blood off my hands.
Fluid pours our quickly,
right out of a liquor glass.
My salvation for tonight,
And for tomorrow too.
By DeadPoet on 3rd July 2005
Young Knight
I hunt, high dragons
with mighty wings
and knock
nasty mountain trolls
with iron fists.
I kill clumsy giants
that snatch humans for lunch
And vicious villains
that rob country folks for fun.
But just a light kiss
from you my fair
I turn soft
and blush.
By tare posted on 4 July 2005
Untitled
Moon shining in twililght,
Not a star in sight,
Isolation.
Gazing out into nothing,
Too much on my mind,
Insomnia.
Plush toy in my bossom,
Oblivious to my pain,
Ignorant.
Visions of him in sin city,
Along with illicit company,
Immorality.
Fibs and bulls told too many,
Soon lost its coaxing,
Insouciant.
By LazerLordz posted on 8 July 2005
I am trying hard,
oh!so hard to craft
this little ditty about
joy
ambition
sobs
and Kodak flops.
And also to sound-off ,
about a girl
who sat with yours truly
all through
dastardly film
that burnt an unhappy gap
in my urban assault kit.
By dsnake1 posted on 8 July 2005
Dark
at my corridor
......... door 2 a.m.
............. thought i saw things
..................... unholy
a shadow
....... gliding
........... at a lift landing
as a dog howls,
..... distant
......... its cry primordial, pining
is it
a malignant spirit
....... that Kallang lady
.............. watching?
rabid hounds bark again
... now a cat joins in
night sounds cutting
through
....... humid
........... air,
........... painful
........... tinny.
as i walk into a warm room
to a hot bath
to wash away
night's dark... -
By The man who was death posted on 29 July 2005
What she loves
She loves her dark straight hair
She loves her long deep stare
She loves her dark black eye
What she loves is not I
She loves her pagan art
She loves her cold dark heart
She loves her painted nails
She loves her frightening wails
What she loves, I fail
Beside the grave she kneels
Hollow whispers as she feels
Lonely heart she longs to kill
What she loves is so few
I love her dark straight hair
I love her smell and fair
I love her weary blur
What I love is her
Her look is sad
Her smile is glad
About her, i'm mad
I want her so bad
She knows what she loves
I know she doesn't love
What I love is love
What she loves is not love -
By Othello_Red posted on 1st August 2005
For Her Â…
As the days while away
So too my service to the nation
Perpetually feeling take for granted
Chronically overworked, severely underpaid
Why this resentment?
Isn't it supposed to be patriotism?
Don't we owe Her our all?
Because of Her, we stand tall?
Just what do we lack?
Belonging or pride?
Or do we even want to stand for Her,
Up against the tide? -
A poem by my friend posted on 14 August 2005
Books
Books have helped and hurt me in my life
They have burnt a big hole in my small pocket
And made me a very poor man indeed...
Books have made me wiser, though still not wise enough
More critical, but still not critical enough
More conscious of the world at large, but still not conscious enough...
Books have made my tiny HDB flat a huge mess
But custom-made bookshelves cost too much to make
And bungalows cost too much to purchase
Books are for the rich men to buy
And for the poor men to borrow
That is what libraries are for...
Yet books-buying is an addiction that is hard to break
For books on hand for scribbling and highlighting are great
Thus making the poor man poorer and poorer all his life.
By H.S. -
Poetry Exercise From Alvin Pang
Here's a topic:
LOVE
(good, bad, happy, sad, win, lose, too much, too little, top, bottom, up to you)
Here are nine objects (feel free to vary or add):
Television
Wok
Bed
Mirror
Telephone
Kitchen knife
Cup of coffee (or tea)
Newspaper
Underwear
Now go write your poem: remember, each line is one description / comparison of love using one (or more) of the objects.
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By Heng
A colour TV, monochromatic.
Clarity, it comes, loud as a falling wok.
An empty bed looking lonely,
While the stranger in the mirror shatters into pieces.
Telephone rings, forlone, ignored,
While the stainless steel glides thru flesh.
Soul departs, darker than espresso,
Earning nothing more than a 4 by 4.
Memories left to red lingerie.
By DeadPoet
IÂ’m a black and white television,
A Chinese wok with cracks.
IÂ’m a King size bed with Queen size sheet,
A human target with arrows on my back.
IÂ’m a magic mirror that refuses to lie,
A road sign that scream “Danger!”
IÂ’m a telephone with numbers all mixed up,
A black coffee without sugar.
I donÂ’t wear spotted underwear,
or those with sexy lace.
I was printed very late,
and they had to cut
my mother up.
By KittynMeow
Colorful montages of the MTV,
A mixed wok, a melting pot,
Tossed around on a lumpy bed.
Cracked glass on a gilded mirror,
A dead tone, a silent phone,
Too sharply the steel knife cuts.
Cold coffee sitting on the table,
An orbituary, a death recorded,
Thrown away with old boxers. -
By tare
It can't be switch on like a tv box,
Tho' it gets hot like a frying wok,
Two can't fit onto a single bed,
It is fragile like a mirror frame.
Connect like a phone regardless of zone,
But your razor sharp words cut me to my bone,
Like a cup of coffee spilled over the table,
This love is dumped like a panty made of paper
By Kimosabe
The silence speaks aloud,
Words disgraced..
My sanity is waning,
Blade in place..
In one fell swoop it is over,
a melancholic existence...
T'was a feeling then, and now..
A futile resistence.
Crushed beneath a monstrous pile,
of demons, ghouls and evil thoughts..
I end my life tonight..
For I am the poem best forgot.
By dsnake1
Love Is
is an old 16 inch TV that sometimes acts funny, snowy,
we laughed and we don't mind
because it is the first one we managed to buy.
is the stars in the sky, in the constellations,the heavens
when you explained their names
Sirius, Cassiopeia, and she smiles and shakes her head in bewilderment
is a six-pack of beer you shared with her on New Year's eve, laughing ,kissing,
as we tossed empty cans into the sky,
the ships in the harbour honked, tribes chanting ,twelve midnight.
is a teaspoon of morphine , a bitter surrender of battle,
without it she cannot forget the pain
the razor sharp stabs, the cancerous cells pushing against her brain.
is a serrated knife that slices the heart, twisting bleeding
till in your numbed grieving
you no longer feel the pain, the loss, of her leaving.
is a marble slab with a photo and indentations in the stone
that was her name, as i brushed my finger
over gilt letters, sobbing, do I realised how much I missed her.
By choco B
LOVE
it is channel surfing on the telly but always returning to a favorite channel
a link like a telephone cord that flexes and stretches but never breaks
it is a mirror that reflects the same affection, yet different and inverted
a seasoned wok that absorbs past flavors, changing with each stir-fry
it is a bed you hide in, play in, it takes your pummels and abuse
a knife that needs sharpening and oily pampering time and again
it is a sobering shot of espresso or a comforting cup of latte
a liability of a mess of old newspapers or an asset when sold away
it is comfortable, unpretentious and less-than-pretty like old underwear
By ShrodingersCat
Love.
the Television was a splitting headache this morning
because you have forgotten to turn it off
for the fourth time this week
and countless times this month;
and I sat on the edge of my bed
head as heavy as a Wok that's on an elephant
the Telephone rang a cold heartless ringtone and
i staggered to answer it
and when i said 'hello'
i heard the familiar click
of the person i know who was calling for you
your tell-tale Underwear looking innocent as you slept
with it on the sofa
The Mirror was talking as I walked past it this morning
I tried to ignore what it was saying to me
and as I read the Newspapers
It calls out to me - a low seductive tone
a song of revenge and freedom...
i glanced at you
your body inert, inept mass on the sofa
the slow rise and fall of your snores
i gulped the Coffee -
black courage -
before the Kitchen Knife took my hand
and led me towards you. -
By LazerLordz posted on 12 September 2005
Rain
Like a grey curtain
You fall on me
like the soft pillow
which I kiss
every night.
Soft and lush
you drive my fears
into washable tears.
I love you
my water pixies. -
By OÂ’ren posted on 12 September 2005
Rain
you provide a guise
to my innermost cries
where flows out in the rain
kept tears in my eyes
and relishes years of pain
on a face wet but unstained
you trickle on my face
like tender fingertips
an experienced lover
softly touches my lips
but taste like salt i realise
it came down from my eyes -
September Poetry Exercise
That Is Just To Say
I have eaten
The plums
That were in
The icebox
And which
You were probably
Saving
For breakfast
Forgive me
They were delicious
So sweet
And so cold
By William Carlos Williams
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That Is Just To Say
You have eaten
the what
that were in
the icebox?
OMG
I was saving
them for
the damn rats!
Forgive me,
they were deadly
sweet yes
but still deadly
That Is Just To Say
You should not
have eaten
the plums in
the icebox
I was saving
them for
tonightÂ’s kinky
sex with you
Now that YOU
have eaten them
you can wank
yourself to sleep
That Is Just To Say
Dear Sir
since you have
eaten the plums
in the icebox
It is my duty to
inform you that they
will cost you
S$600,000
Yes, they are plums,
not peanuts
but it is for charity
and I know
you will understand
By DeadPoet
---------------------------------------------
That Is Just To Say
Have you eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox?
Which I
have specially bought
for you
and your lover.
I hope
you sleep well.
This long
and eternal slumber.
By KittynMeow -
That Is Just To Say
Those plums
in the icebox
are not
actually plums
They are just
Cow Dungs
coated with cocoa
packed in a box
No wonder
the smell
lingered around
your stupid dogs
By Master -_-
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That Is Just To Say
I have eaten
The plums
That were in
The icebox
It was
An emergency
I just had
To
Forgive me
I was constipated
And there weren't
Any prunes T___T
By choco B
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That Is Just To Say
oh! are you sure?
were those plums
that were in
the icebox?
And which
were incredibly
so juicy
and very sweet?
Forgive me
I hadn't known
they were plums
and yours
but frankly, dear
it wouldn't have
made a
difference
*burp*
By ShrodingersCat
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That Is Just to Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the fridge.
You were what,
actually
saving them
for breakfast?
Too bad.
They were sweet,
and so cold,
just like you.
By dsnake1
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That Is Just to Say
Ants have eaten
the plums
that you left
on the kitchen
table
I told you
to keep them
in the
icebox
I was ignored
and now
You
will have
no breakfast.
That Is Just to Say
I have eaten
The plums
That were in
The icebox
to make space
for the lychee
and longans
I just bought
Forgive me
but you need
to buy
a bigger
fridge
By Bluesky_Liz -
That Is Just To Say
Yah lah it's me,
Who eaten
the plums
In the fridge.
You no put
Your name
on them
How I know?
They look sweet
but no leh
sour like wat
say my gastric
-_-"
By tare
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That Is Just To Say
I have eaten
The whole icebox
Only plums
Are left.
I guess
I won't need lunch
Saving
For dinner
Plug left inside
electrocuting
My insides
Buzzzzzzz
By The man who was death
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That Is Just To Say
Were those big
And juicy things
In the icebox
Supposed to be plums?
I beg your pardon
I'm allergic to them
But I had them
For breakfast
Call for the medic
Call for an ambulance
I'm.... starting....
.....to.... ch-o-ke......
By fudgester
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That Is Just To Say
i have eaten
the plums,or were it pears,
that were in the icebox,or were they on the table
or did i actually ate them?have i?
you were saving them for breakfast,
or were they plums,i mean mangoes.
have you eaten them?
how did they taste like?
forgive me,they were delicious,
so sweet,and so cold.
but i cant remember if i did eat them plums,
how you like them apples?
By ratinacage
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That Is Just To Say
I didnÂ’t eat
The plums
The pig ate them
The pig is now pork
I threw a bouquet
of flowers
Through an open port
It landed on the pork
Forgive the pig
For eating your plums
The pig is cold
The flowers are old
By LeftBallBigger
--------------------------------------------------------
That Is Just To Say
I have eaten
ALL your plums
That were in
The icebox
This is payback
For you
having eaten
my apples yesterday
IÂ’m not sorry,
At all.
For the sweet fruit of revenge is tasty,
And a dish best served cold!
By SingaporeMacross -
By HENG@ posted on 9 September 2005
Torch
Suffocating fog.
It swirls, it twirls,
Dances of seduction,
Memories of isolation.
Sloshing pungent swamp,
Gnarly branches twisted evil.
Oppressive presence,
All hope seems lost.
Faint shimmers, rainbow colours.
Grabs the eye like no other,
Amongst the grime its brilliance shines,
Intensely, delicately, penetrative.
Bewitching luminous beholden the eyes,
Gracefully as spirits fly.
Waltz of the swan as pure as light.
Prodigious joy as true as love.
Mighty, conquering, searing,
Brilliance consumes black.
Fiery passions and re-energized soul,
Bravely step forth as yet once more.