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Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Poem {4:25 AM}
Since it had been quite a while since I'd last done a ryhming poem, I thought I should give it a try.
Welcome to the enchanted glade
Where shadows lurk in darkling shade
Where upon the hue of velvet night
Soars the stars of dreams in flight
Where below the glow of early dawn
Burns the flames of wishes born
And beyond the mountains, upon the world-rim
Dances the auroras of hopes and dreams
Across the endless, lifeless dunes
Where dust-wind howls its mournful tunes
Beneath the billowing sandy plumes
A desert flower tenderly blooms
When in crimson dusk, towards the setting sun
Weary after the day’s work’s finally done
Step into my dreamscape deep
To rest in your eternal sleep
OOPS I FORGOT EDIT EDIT EDIT: Wang YiHua (28)
Labels: poetry
Friday, May 9, 2008
War {6:03 AM}
This is the poem my group and I came up with during the English lessons.
The War
The war rages on
Sowing destruction and mayhem
Death and pandemonium
Burning, without mercy,
The suffering people
The war rages on
Its seeds leech the fertile earth
Of people’s hatred
And then, at one sudden hour,
It blooms, resplendent in its terrible beauty
The war rages on
Everyone is dragged into its swirling maelstrom
The devils heartlessly beat their drums
Summoning children
To die in their battlefields
The war rages on
When can it end?
When will we have peace on earth?
How many deaths must it take
To appease that gods of destruction?
The war rages on
The tears and spilt blood irrigate the earth
The stench of death dominates the air
Continuous and everlasting
Over a land forever dead
'The War' Poem Analysis:
Emphasis is put on each stanza the recurring the message of ‘war’, which lets the audience experience an inveterate sense of ominous chaos at the start of every stanza. The word ‘sowing’ used in the second line is a wordplay on the phrase ‘sowing crops’, but, instead of crops, in this case, war sows ‘destruction’ and ‘mayhem’ and waits for these seeds to grow. War ‘burns’ not only the people ‘mercilessly’ and also resources, to give an impression that war is waste.
The second stanza described war as ‘leeching’. War leeches on the people’s ‘hatred’, which is a ‘fertile earth’. This is to show how politicians manipulate the people’s emotions to their own ends. The ‘crops’ sown by the war ‘blooms’ in one sudden hour – everything, even war, has its own unique style of exquisiteness, but the beauty of war is terrible
‘Devils summoning’ is a description of evil politicians conscripting ‘children’, a symbol of innocence, to die in ‘their’ battlefield. The word ‘their’ puts emphasis on how the war is not of ordinary people’s choosing, but rather, is the result of a selfish group of individuals. ‘Devils summoning’ is yet another wordplay; normally, it is magicians that summon devils to work for them. Now the devils are summoning the people as a payback.
The phrase ‘How many deaths must it take' is actually a quote from the song ‘The answer is blowing in the wind’. The gods of destruction refers to those who perpetrated the war and profits from it – politicians, warmongers and arms sellers come to mind.
In the last stanza, ‘tears and ‘blood’, the fruits of tragedy, ‘irrigates the earth’. One final ironic wordplay: in lakeside areas, irrigation is a long-waited for period which brings fertility for the crops. Strong words like ‘dominate’, ‘continuous’ and ‘everlasting’ is used to show the dire, serious and most of all instill upon the reader a permanent sense of the consequences of war. ‘A land forever dead’ both represents the literal land (wars calls for much scorch-earth tactics) and also the lives and hopes of the people living there that were shattered by war.
Group Members
Lionel Goh
Ng Jie Hui
Roy Soon
Song Gil Seob
Wang YiHua
Labels: poetry
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
A Poem {5:06 AM}
Some are born bored, some achieve boredom, and some have boredom thrust upon them. Such is the case when I find myself lying on my bed, waiting for my fever to return. So - what to do, what to do? In my case, write a poem! But since I'm so bedridden, how can I possibly find inspiration for a poem? That's easy - I don't have to.
The following poem is and ode to a scene I witnessed one recess.
Dash of the Sec 2 Cohort
Half a square, half a square
Half a square forward
All in the canteen at Recess
Dashed the two hundred
“Forward, the Sec 2 cohort
Charge for the stalls!” he roared
All in the canteen at Recess
Dashed the two hundred
“Forward the Sec 2 cohort!”
Was there a student bored?
Not though the students knew
Long queues awaited
Theirs not to make reply
Theirs not to question why
Theirs but to queue and buy
Into the canteen at Recess
Dashed the two hundred
Rain to the right of them
Rain to the left of them
Rain in front of them
Showered and splattered
Sprayed at with watery mud
Boldly they out-dashed the flood
Into the canteen’s jaws
Into the Café’s yard
Dashed the two hundred
Flashed all their wallets bare
Flashed as their coins tossed in air
Paying the stall-holders there
Charging a cohort, while
All the school wondered
Plunged into cooking-grease
Right thro’ the line they breezed
Students and teachers
Reeled as though struck by disease
Shuddered and stuttered
Then they queued back, but not
Not the two hundred
Rain to the right of them
Rain to the left of them
Rain behind them
Showered and splattered
Sprayed at with watery mud
They that had dashed so hard
Came thro’ the canteen’s jaws
Back from the Café’s yard
Gourmet two hundred
When will they be civilized, then?
O the wild dash they went!
All the school wondered
Ponder the dash they went
Ponder the Sec 2 band
Peculiar two hundred
And, before you ask: Yes, I
am that bored.
YiHua
Labels: poetry
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Fall of the Morning Star {3:39 AM}
Hmmm...If the teacher is a 'sir'...then that means he has never seen me before, nor knew that I existed! And this would mean that I can shamelessly reuse my last year's poetry! Oh frabjous day! Callooh callay! Oh dear, was that out loud?
Born lustrous and pure, Bringer of Light
Archangel in the Kingdom of Sky
With heart pure and wings bright
He was the Anointed Cherub of High
His body was of agate and gold
Fair harps and flutes did his hands hold
Named Son of Dawn and Morning Star
His light could be beheld from afar
Sweet blows his flute and clear plays his harp
Bright was his armor, and his spear was sharp
Fair was his face, handsome and fey
Blazing out of dawn he brought about day
But by his pride and curiousity
A thought did come to his mind, to be
Free from servitude, independent from God
And in so thinking he brought the wrath of the Lord
And as He made him, now He bade him
To be cast from Heaven, exiled Cherubim
Lucifer and his allies, were overwhlelmed by His host
There one third of Heaven had Paradise lost
But Lucifer shouted, at the head of his brethen
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven!"
And thus, according to the forbidden Lore
Did the glorious Morning Star fall
Labels: poetry
Monday, March 31, 2008
An Afternoon in the Park {6:08 AM}
One day I was emoing (okay lah, everyone does that somtimes). Then I wrote a poem.
I emailed a draft version of the poem to Mrs. Suhaimy, and she replied and editted it. At her request, I am posting *gulp* the poem. The poem title says it all, really.
Poem: An Evening in the Park
It is an afternoon in the park
When the soft golden glow of the Sun
Drenches the trees’ languid limbs
When the sweet cool evening breeze
Gently sifts through one’s hair
When before one’s eyes
Again plays the faded years
Of a previous life
When old men amble past each other
Lost in their reveries of long-forgotten times
When young couples stroll,
Unspeaking, hand in hand
Watching in silence the beauty
Of the Sun’s glorious death
Awaiting the violet tendrils of night
To reclaim the tear-soaked blood red sky
And come night, all will try
To find, in the inky black cosmos
Hidden amid the shining stars
Wisdom from the twilight of death
For guidance through their years of life
To find comfort not to weep
Over those lost-forever fields
To seek, instead, the unconquerable will
And the courage never to submit
Or yield.
Wang YiHua 28 (Surprise. Who would have thought?)
Labels: poetry
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Life {6:18 AM}
Here's the ultimate tribute to Ms. Julie Sloan, who could write poems better than me at fourteen when she was ten.
http://homepage.mac.com/s_sloan/orange.htmLife is silly
Like a maggot
The pointless squawk
Of a parrot
Sifting the blame
To anyone you name
Life is dull grey
Saying hello
In a work office that
Bores the sky
Life means grave
Life means old
It's dulling wits
And getting sold
Life is a fat hip
Life is a flash
A bloodstained stripe
From Caesar’s sash
Life is a weekend
That never comes
Life is the commoners
Huddling in slums
And in the fall, when the leaves are turning
Life is the smell
Of your funeral burning
Wang YiHua 28 (who else is so shameless?)
Labels: poetry
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Society is You and Me by Nicholas Gordon {8:23 PM}
Hi boys,
I found this poem
here . You might want to state your thoughts on it and maybe relate it to TKAM.
Society is you and me.
Everyone's a piece of they.
Very much of what we do
Ends up as words that others say.
No I exists except as we,
Though he and she are part of you;
Each pronoun's only partly true,
Each life becomes another's way.
No one alone can simply be.
Labels: poetry
