Song of a Streetlamp

Song of a Streetlamp

One day (I think) I will grow up
And be as tall as you
Who reach towards infinity
And shelter those below

I don’t have much, and I repeat
I don’t have much to give
I’m just a little, lonely light
Only useful when at night
People walk the paths unlit
Except the space I glow

I know there’s no comparison
Between a tree and me
I know I’ll never be as tall
Or be as tenderly loved by all
My beauty is too stark and small
No poets write about me

One thing I know
That gives me warmth
My solace I find there:
I fight the currents of the night
If only in this sphere of light
The weary soul regains his sight
And leans against me, breathing

Soft, his breaths, they bring me
life again, our shadows merge
under the trees, my light,
reflected on their leaves –

Dear traveller of the world,
My light in exchange for your love
Your love in exchange for my light
That’s enough for me
That’s enough

Copyright © 2013 Antelune. All Rights Reserved.

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Park

This is a series of pictures I took with my iPhone 5 at the park one day, based on the feelings and observations I had while there. The park I visited was the Bukit Batok Nature Park, a choice spot for peace and quiet near where I live in Singapore. I posted these pictures on Instagram as “Park series”, along with the accompanying poetry/words that were inspired by each picture. Do click on each picture to view it along with the words I’ve written – I’ll let them speak for themselves.

The Poetics of Facebook: What Would I Say Poetry

I know I haven’t been on here much, but that’s because the school work is really getting to me! Between essay-writing and planning for my thesis (just got my supervisor, hurrah!), school has been taking up most of my life. Which is exactly why this little post is sure to bring a smile onto everyone’s faces.

Recently, there’s been the What Would I Say (#wwis) trend happening on Facebook. All you need to do is to go to the WWIS website, log into your Facebook account, and generate a status. The algorithm works by randomly combining bits of your Facebook statuses to form statuses that are supposed to sound like something you would say. For the friends and I who have tried wwis, it’s turning out to be very illuminating. Some of the statuses even sound like poetry, which is amazing. Here’s a full, grammatically correct sentence I got from WWIS: “You’re being especially brilliant as an easier version of a Rembrandt painting.” Brilliant. It’s much like Google Poetics, but more personalised.

I’ve taken the liberty of combining a number of my WWIS statuses into poetry. The titles are also statuses. Enjoy and try it for yourself! You’ve been warned: it’s really addictive.

i. Now for some people i love
Ever wondered whether I didn’t see you
But we write like a thousand times over
There’s a whole lot more.
And I like you
but they did a taste test of you

I love the choice to have no license yet
What I can imagine you
whatever it is, I can’t see it
but people say you’re having a fever.
For those nights of his expressions looked odd.

One decision, one
we are, but I don’t know
Love it surprises me.
I love you.

Continue reading “The Poetics of Facebook: What Would I Say Poetry”

A Cup of Tea

A cup of tea in hand, I sit
Still. and ponder the letters you wrote
before;

steeped in
strange, nonchalant
curiosity at your new
acquisition, you write.
letters, forming words to
barricade time’s march
against two
falling feathers
from a common wing.

Your words overlap and loop
on repeat; phrases of a
familiar melody that once
pleased the hearer
phrases of a melody that once
phrases of a melody
phrases of

you, the ice cream truck
in a ringing
abscess
of
silence

you exist in the invisible
aquarium of memory where
words slide down glass walls
that break flesh, not glass…

In any case –
not wishing to coax an unwilling song,
I wrote words. My own
Words, must be mined for meaning;
running deep below the surface
of the mind, inaccessible quarks
breaking through cavernous depths,
you can hear me running

from my words, your letters, the grind
of cogs screeching against the inexorable
drum of Life will
Desist.

An arm is lifted. It pours
the tea. trickles down the sink,
too cold, too bitter to swallow.

[8 July 2009]

Copyright © 2014 Antelune. All Rights Reserved.