Voice of the Sublime

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In this month’s entry for the A and I Poetry Challenge to write a short 5-line poem, I thought I would try the version of a cinquain as used by Adelaide Crapsey, an early twentieth-century poet. Her form had 22 syllables distributed among the five lines in a 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 pattern. Her poems share a similarity with the Japanese tanka, another five-line form & another favourite of mine, in their focus on imagery and the natural world. Continue reading “Voice of the Sublime”

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The Changing Seasons: April 2018

April has been a month of poetry: writing, struggling, gorging, studying, dialoguing, renewing my faith in the art and my commitment to its practice.  I can honestly say I have not worked in such a focused manner in a while, and it has been brain-taxing, euphoric, troubling & cathartic in turn.

I believe that we have a deep-seated need to create, to encounter Beauty, to transform our world.  Music, photography, poetry are ways which allow me to do this.  And so I will. Continue reading “The Changing Seasons: April 2018”

Prolific: SingPoWriMo Day 18-20 Update

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I wish I could report that I have been prolific on account of poetry month, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one’s perspective), I have spent far more time reacquainting myself with the riot of poetry and the maestros who beautify our landscape with their words.

Please enjoy my gleeful discoveries from the past few days:

  • Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé’s Thirty Seven Reasons Red is RadAllegory 2 is from this work.
  • Gwee Li Sui’s Haikuku, 120 Singaporean haikus.
  • Tse Hao Guang’s Deeds of Light.

 

Feature Photo: Unabashedly verdant & prolific! Taken at Dairy Farm Nature Park, Singapore.

 

Awakenings: SingPoWriMo Day 14-17 Update

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Notes:

  • I wrote this as part of the 30-Day Singapore Poetry Writing Month Challenge.  I have never tried writing a Ghazal although one of my all time favourite poets, Omar Khayyam, wrote many in this style. It is originally an Arabic verse form used to convey loss & romantic longing.
  • I was thinking of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet “How do I love Thee”, and borrowed a few of her lines.
  • This is my contribution to Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Awakenings
  • Feature Photo: Black Swans awakening from slumber at the Eco-Lake, Singapore Botanic gardens.

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My exploration of new poetry continues.  Some of it is rather confuzzling (I love suggestion that I am in a state of confusion & puzzlement!  Thank you y.prior for the introduction to this delicious word!).  Some eye-opening & mindblowing (reading lots of poetry written by Singaporeans; yes!  we do have a body of work to boast of).  And some I simply love! love! love! (Jack Spicer, Amy Lowell,  Tse Hao Guang).

I have experimented with some new forms: some I find easier to use than others.  I am also consciously working on elevating the writing; I continue to struggle with what this means, and how to get it done effectively.

A-ha! SingPoWriMo Day 1-5 Update

It has been an educational 5 days:

  • 5 days, 5 poems released into the Wild
  • I’ve tried a Somonka & a Ghazal, both of which I’ve only become acquainted with this week.
  • every day is a challenge not to faint from intimidation, being amongst much younger, hugely intellectual and as far as I can surmise, extremely talented poets
  • going back to the basics & asking the question: Why do we write Poetry?  (Thoughts, anyone?)

Continue reading “A-ha! SingPoWriMo Day 1-5 Update”

Where are the Dragons?

Shhhh … under the bed.
Is the dragon under the bed?
Look! Look!
Oh… he’s not there.

Maybe he’s off flying through a deep blue sky
Searching for his next quarry, his next meal.
Flying free, flying fast,
Watchful for anything that
Moves far below him.

Shhhh … in the closet.
Is the dragon in the closet?
Look! Look!
Oh … he’s not there.

Maybe he’s fighting a knight,
All shiny, metal-tasting and clanky,
Toying with this quarry, with this next meal.
Fighting free, fighting strong,
Invigorated by the challenge of this champion.

Shhhh … outside the window.
Is the dragon outside the window?
Look! Look!
Oh … he’s not there.

Maybe he’s lying amidst his hoard, in his far off cave
Full of treasure, twinkling like stars in the darkness.
Heaving, gasping for his next breath.
Fighting free, fighting long.

Where have all the dragons gone?
They have left our our skies, our lands,
our deepest, darkest corners.

The Dragonslayers, conniving, skilled,
insistently memorising the face of each mesmerising dragon,
hunting them down mercilessly.

The end of legend,
the end of imagination,
the end of possibility.

The Dragons are driven out, one by one,
pursued, desperate, cornered,
until They have no choice but to grow up.