Poetry exercise from Alvin Pang
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thanks thanks. curious tho. do u know WHY im dying to get back to London?Originally posted by DeadPoet:All the best to you. I know you are dying to get back to London.
By the way, if you have the time to spare do participate in the coming Poetry Writing Competition.
Looking forward to read your poems again.
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Let me see if I can find any clues in your blog.Originally posted by HENG@:thanks thanks. curious tho. do u know WHY im dying to get back to London?
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Originally posted by DeadPoet:Let me see if I can find any clues in your blog.
lemmie know if u do. -
For the fun of it, here goes
Me
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. -
Originally posted by DeadPoet:
I like! I think you're not giving yourself credit for a catchy beat and rhythm that 's just beneath the surface tho. For eg. you could rap this :
For the fun of it, here goes
[b]Me
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.
[/b]
"I'mma black-n-white TV / Imma Chinese wok with cracks / Imma king sized bed with queen sized sheets / Imma walking human target with big arrows in my back"
"Imma magic mirror baby that refuses girl to lie / Imma road sign screaming danger, Imma cop-car driving by /...."
etc etc.
Sorry, not meaning to be prescriptive, but your draft is really catchy and the images run well - so dig the rhythm! -
Heehee. I wanted it to sound catchy.Originally posted by verbosity:I like! I think you're not giving yourself credit for a catchy beat and rhythm that 's just beneath the surface tho. For eg. you could rap this :
"I'mma black-n-white TV / Imma Chinese wok with cracks / Imma king sized bed with queen sized sheets / Imma walking human target with big arrows in my back"
"Imma magic mirror baby that refuses girl to lie / Imma road sign screaming danger, Imma cop-car driving by /...."
etc etc.
Sorry, not meaning to be prescriptive, but your draft is really catchy and the images run well - so dig the rhythm!
By the way I am writing another version, but with a more serious tone. Once ready I will post it in my blog. Do drop by to give some comments.
Thanks. -
Hello dsnake1, LazerLordz, tare, etc.
Don't want to give it a try? -
got try lah but not good enuff try to post...Originally posted by DeadPoet:Hello dsnake1, LazerLordz, tare, etc.
Don't want to give it a try? 
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this so tough, i only come up with one line
as i lay dying dying, on my bed, still as the broken clock.
liddat can call metaphor?
second line is, time is still, why is my bread toasted?
kns right? -
here's my feeble attempt... trying to play with alphabets again... kekeke
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. -
very busy, this whole week, working my ass off in the office.Originally posted by DeadPoet:Hello dsnake1, LazerLordz, tare, etc.
Don't want to give it a try?
see the time i post? just got back home.
will be trying -
okie lah.... brain not working in words recently..... so here's wat my ultra-feeble attempt
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. -
what happened to the newspaper??Originally posted by tare:okie lah.... brain not working in words recently..... so here's wat my ultra-feeble attempt
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. -
i no read newspaper mah.....Originally posted by KittynMeow:what happened to the newspaper?? -
hahahahahaOriginally posted by tare:i no read newspaper mah..... 
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Originally posted by DeadPoet:
this nice!
For the fun of it, here goes
[b]Me
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.
[/b]
heh i can see all subsequent efforts have far surpassed mine. -
I think you can do better that did.Originally posted by The man who was death:this so tough, i only come up with one line
as i lay dying dying, on my bed, still as the broken clock.
liddat can call metaphor?
second line is, time is still, why is my bread toasted?
kns right? -
And you are writing about....? Not cat right?Originally posted by KittynMeow:here's my feeble attempt... trying to play with alphabets again... kekeke
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. -
I also no read newspaper.Originally posted by tare:i no read newspaper mah..... -
Thanks. Glad to know you like this little piece.Originally posted by HENG@:this nice!
heh i can see all subsequent efforts have far surpassed mine.
Any idea what was I referring to in the last three lines? -
kinda. Although I'm curious if it actually meant a literal C-Sec or that it meant she suffered complications during her pregnancy.Originally posted by DeadPoet:Thanks. Glad to know you like this little piece.
Any idea what was I referring to in the last three lines? -
Bravo Heng! Bravo! The former answer is correct.Originally posted by HENG@:kinda. Although I'm curious if it actually meant a literal C-Sec or that it meant she suffered complications during her pregnancy. -
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. -
sorry but whr are the metaphors??Originally posted 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.
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my attempt. at metaphors.
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.
--01/09/05-----------
Actually i wrote about DEATH , this being the 7th month, but love won.