To sample haiku into one big magazine is not the way to treat haiku. it is like putting people into a concentration camp. you cannot really enjoy them. haiku has to be encountered each like a new friend on the street. They cannot come into your life like a noisy intruding crowd.
new day
the children in the school
waking me up
dont care about them - those who snigger about your cyber habit...it is nobody's business. if it is an addiction it is a healthy addiction...just dont spoil your eyesight or forget your meal and healthy relatonship with real people...that's all. the world can say what they like.
Hatred breeds confusion. Clear thinking and careful action can come only when the heart is free from hatred. The laws of God are eternal, lofty and deep. The man who is obedient to them will be happy and after death, will experience joy unsurpassable.
- a book of hinduism.
sunset snake
a luminous red slowly
devoured by night
beach holiday
the coconut trees dance
more wildly than us
sunday blues
adrift on the web
spun round the universe
pouch kangaroo
the dawn sun slowly crawls
over the mountain
With my news article and feature stories published in Hong Kong, Malaysia and Singapore as early as the 80s, I am quite proud of my own writing achievement. So when this reporter friend said I dont know how to write news, the only thing I could do is laugh instead of show grievance. This reporter cannot get the facts in the office correct, how to do the outside?
There is not such a cradle of democracy upon the earth as the Free Public Library; this republic of letters, where neither rank, office, nor wealth receives the slightest consideration. ~Andrew Carnegie
beach walk
stress rides
the waves
harem idle hours
unveiling a part of herself
she holds so dear
...
Cameron Highlands Haiku:
Brinchang mossy forest
a past she holds onto still
gives her the shudders
Monday, November 29, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Jimmy Choo so obliging you can wear his shoes
daughter's water colour seladang
a sea of admiration charges
through the office
beach walk
stress rides
the waves
harem idle hours
unveiling a part of herself
she holds so dear
Brinchang mossy forest
a past she holds onto still
gives her the shudders
Brinchang mossy forest
a harboured past that still
gives her the shudders
HERE is our Brain Series 2 - the bus stop with the glass roofing.
Well, it shields us from the rain but not the hot sun. So those people with high blood pressure cannot sit there to wait for their bus. It is too much for them too when they have to wait elsewhere and run to the bus when it arrives. This bus stop at Brickfields.....a pain I think to many.
childhood memories fly
in and out of my mind
like butterflies
every day is a new born baby. carry it well and you will see it smiling to you, cheering you up. you will never see every day as the same anymore.
every day is a new born baby. carry it well and you will see it smiling to you, cheering you up. you will never see every day as the same anymore.
Loy krathong moon
in my heart
a tide of wishes
love, sins and negativities
feed flames that consume
the darkness of the world
"The fog descends
in the wee hours of dawn
like a sacred thing."
Loy Krathong (thai new year)
our wishes float down the river
in candlelight
Reincarnation spectre
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
portrait of the French Lady
she holds tight to the
pleasures of her life
I
smell
God
jimmy Choo so obliging
you can wear
his shoes
chapters of my life
on the pavement
leaves flying asunder
difficult times
mother and child holding
onto a bleakness
a sea of admiration charges
through the office
beach walk
stress rides
the waves
harem idle hours
unveiling a part of herself
she holds so dear
Brinchang mossy forest
a past she holds onto still
gives her the shudders
Brinchang mossy forest
a harboured past that still
gives her the shudders
HERE is our Brain Series 2 - the bus stop with the glass roofing.
Well, it shields us from the rain but not the hot sun. So those people with high blood pressure cannot sit there to wait for their bus. It is too much for them too when they have to wait elsewhere and run to the bus when it arrives. This bus stop at Brickfields.....a pain I think to many.
childhood memories fly
in and out of my mind
like butterflies
every day is a new born baby. carry it well and you will see it smiling to you, cheering you up. you will never see every day as the same anymore.
every day is a new born baby. carry it well and you will see it smiling to you, cheering you up. you will never see every day as the same anymore.
Loy krathong moon
in my heart
a tide of wishes
love, sins and negativities
feed flames that consume
the darkness of the world
"The fog descends
in the wee hours of dawn
like a sacred thing."
Loy Krathong (thai new year)
our wishes float down the river
in candlelight
Reincarnation spectre
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
portrait of the French Lady
she holds tight to the
pleasures of her life
I
smell
God
jimmy Choo so obliging
you can wear
his shoes
chapters of my life
on the pavement
leaves flying asunder
difficult times
mother and child holding
onto a bleakness
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Loy Krathong Moon
loy krathong moon
so bright a wish soars
from my heart
loy Krathong (thai new year)
our wishes float down the river
in candlelight
reincarnation spectre
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
so bright a wish soars
from my heart
loy Krathong (thai new year)
our wishes float down the river
in candlelight
reincarnation spectre
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
Blooming just as well, the lady with flowers in her basket
reincarnation spectre
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
portrait of the French Lady
she holds tight to the
pleasures of her life
i
smell
God
Jimmy Choo so obliging
you can wear his shoes
if they fit you
chapters of my life
on the pavement
leaves flying asunder
difficult times
mother and child holding
onto a bleakness
the red rose too
finds its way up
to praise its Creator
Kinabatangan river cruise
our eyes darting around
like monkey
flower selling girl
at her quiet corner
a basket of dreams
lake of consciousness
a lotus charges up to claim
the beauty of transcience
as he strikes his plough
on the soil he picks up vibrations
of all his existence
as he strikes his plough
on the soil, vibrations of all
his existence bounce back
consciousness
a timeless zen
everything falls into
consciousness
timeless
transcience
consciousness
a lake of timelessness
transcience dances a ballet
nature's expanse
one little corner
streaming with life
blooming just as well
the lady with flowers
in her basket
My journalist friend told me he is always frightened of being thought as not an intellectual, so he uses the most specfic words to describe his experiences for his feature stories...words that you wont come across again half your life.
I so fear readers may not understand my writing, i use the simplest of words for my work, poems, prose or newspaper features.
the midnight bus leaves me
in the shadows
of a haunted house
bakun dam
a whole town wallows
in troubled waters
her contours stirring the heat
in the African desert
portrait of the French Lady
she holds tight to the
pleasures of her life
i
smell
God
Jimmy Choo so obliging
you can wear his shoes
if they fit you
chapters of my life
on the pavement
leaves flying asunder
difficult times
mother and child holding
onto a bleakness
the red rose too
finds its way up
to praise its Creator
Kinabatangan river cruise
our eyes darting around
like monkey
flower selling girl
at her quiet corner
a basket of dreams
lake of consciousness
a lotus charges up to claim
the beauty of transcience
as he strikes his plough
on the soil he picks up vibrations
of all his existence
as he strikes his plough
on the soil, vibrations of all
his existence bounce back
consciousness
a timeless zen
everything falls into
consciousness
timeless
transcience
consciousness
a lake of timelessness
transcience dances a ballet
nature's expanse
one little corner
streaming with life
blooming just as well
the lady with flowers
in her basket
My journalist friend told me he is always frightened of being thought as not an intellectual, so he uses the most specfic words to describe his experiences for his feature stories...words that you wont come across again half your life.
I so fear readers may not understand my writing, i use the simplest of words for my work, poems, prose or newspaper features.
the midnight bus leaves me
in the shadows
of a haunted house
bakun dam
a whole town wallows
in troubled waters
Saturday, November 13, 2010
The Days
My journalist friend told me he is always frightened of being thought as not an intellectual, so he uses the most specfic words to describe his experiences for his feature stories...words that you wont come across again half your life.
dam here dam there
damned here damned there
Be damned that's all
I so fear readers may not understand my writing, i use the simplest of words for my work, poems, prose or newspaper features.
the midnight bus leaves me
in the shadows
of a haunted house
there used to be haunted wooden house on stilts that cast long shadows onto the street as bus passed by. i used to drop off near here because it was near my house. my hair always stood on ends when i was here because of the menacing shadows. what was most strange was that you could see a flight of stairs at the rear between the stilts leading to the first floor. it was most eerie. the house was torn down two years ago.
the stairs looked frighteningly inviting, an oppresive emptiness full with the vibes of evil ever ready take into its fold the unsuspecting visitor.
i heard that people who slept in the house would find themselves outside the house. shadows ran here and there. according to beliefs when a haunted house is torn down, the evil goes with it because they fear sunlight. that's why sometimes people tear down the roofs of their houses when they know they are haunted.
i must say the house faced the intersection of three roads, two
divided by a road island from the opposite direction and the other
right in front.
bakun dam
a whole town wallow
in troubled waters
troubled times
gunung merapi and obama
each sounding louder
gunung merapi eruptions
for the first time the child
hears about krakatoa
It is technologically possible to devise a soul for a man if he is born without one. John looks to the future.
The following by Gert Sonderby:
A big question that's been asked time and again is "What is the nature of the soul?" We've found no material evidence of even its existence - but that doesn't necessarily make it nonexistent. After all, the vast majority of the interesting stuff in our brain is purely informational - signals going to and fro between nerve cells in that big lump of gray matter we do our thinking with. Well, I'm a software developer - for me it's easy to see the soul as, well, software of a kind. It's the system that our brains run on, that it does what it does by.
The way I see it, if there were a Creator he'd want us to achieve our fullest potential, to grow and become strong and wise, like any good parent wants for their children. He'd perhaps even want us to eclipse him. Perhaps in the way he once eclipsed his own creator? Who knows.
But I do know that a good parent teaches his or her child to grow to their fullest potential, to become all that they can be. Whether there is a creator or not is moot to the question: We should strive to become greater (in the true sense of the word) than we are
As such, anyone, or really any -thing- with significant brain activity can be said to have a soul. And what's more, theoretically, such a soul is transferrable - clone a new body, transfer the software (never interrupting its running) to the new one - and the person inhabiting the old body now inhabits the new. This gets highly interesting when you consider that a sufficiently advanced computer probably could run a soul as well... Or that you could potentially copy it into two bodies... Or perhaps even meld two versions of the same consciousness back together into one.
One thing is certain: The future will be a very interesting place.
the world is
a crystal ball
you can wish for anything
the old summer leaf
a gentle brittle grace
trailing the breeze
http://www.slideshare.net/kuronekosan/gce-o-level-2010-section-b-unseen-poemthose-layered-cakes-by-john-tiong-chung-hoo
gert:
ou can find schmucks everywhere. Religious of any stripe, non-religions, actively anti-religious. But there's good folk too. Saying that 'Islam does not respect' other religions is... shall we say using a somewhat broad brush. Sure some of the louder people involved are not too pleasant - but they're not the only ones, just the newsworthy ones.
Did you know that, for instance, a number of prominent American Islamic clerics issued a fatwa condemning attacks on the USA as harmful to fellow Muslims and against the will of God? That sort of thing you will never see in the news, right along with the many moderate and very sensible Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists and atheists around. The ones you do see are the ones who shriek loudly and shrilly at one another, because -that's- newsworthy. For some reason.
the cat sleeping by the bus stop
it meows a world of loss when i pat it
two times on the head
the days are my morphine
have you anything against it?
i have been abusing myself
buddha's enlightenment
at the tree canopy
light dances with leaves
After disrupting all my morning sleep, chasing away the birds and bungling
my weekends the last three years, the 15 storey high class condominum behind ours is ready, spic and span, a enviable spacious living space that will soon be filled with people you see occupying the smart offices in and around Kuala Lumpur.
a smile that sends
the world reeling
mona lisa
dam here dam there
damned here damned there
Be damned that's all
I so fear readers may not understand my writing, i use the simplest of words for my work, poems, prose or newspaper features.
the midnight bus leaves me
in the shadows
of a haunted house
there used to be haunted wooden house on stilts that cast long shadows onto the street as bus passed by. i used to drop off near here because it was near my house. my hair always stood on ends when i was here because of the menacing shadows. what was most strange was that you could see a flight of stairs at the rear between the stilts leading to the first floor. it was most eerie. the house was torn down two years ago.
the stairs looked frighteningly inviting, an oppresive emptiness full with the vibes of evil ever ready take into its fold the unsuspecting visitor.
i heard that people who slept in the house would find themselves outside the house. shadows ran here and there. according to beliefs when a haunted house is torn down, the evil goes with it because they fear sunlight. that's why sometimes people tear down the roofs of their houses when they know they are haunted.
i must say the house faced the intersection of three roads, two
divided by a road island from the opposite direction and the other
right in front.
bakun dam
a whole town wallow
in troubled waters
troubled times
gunung merapi and obama
each sounding louder
gunung merapi eruptions
for the first time the child
hears about krakatoa
It is technologically possible to devise a soul for a man if he is born without one. John looks to the future.
The following by Gert Sonderby:
A big question that's been asked time and again is "What is the nature of the soul?" We've found no material evidence of even its existence - but that doesn't necessarily make it nonexistent. After all, the vast majority of the interesting stuff in our brain is purely informational - signals going to and fro between nerve cells in that big lump of gray matter we do our thinking with. Well, I'm a software developer - for me it's easy to see the soul as, well, software of a kind. It's the system that our brains run on, that it does what it does by.
The way I see it, if there were a Creator he'd want us to achieve our fullest potential, to grow and become strong and wise, like any good parent wants for their children. He'd perhaps even want us to eclipse him. Perhaps in the way he once eclipsed his own creator? Who knows.
But I do know that a good parent teaches his or her child to grow to their fullest potential, to become all that they can be. Whether there is a creator or not is moot to the question: We should strive to become greater (in the true sense of the word) than we are
As such, anyone, or really any -thing- with significant brain activity can be said to have a soul. And what's more, theoretically, such a soul is transferrable - clone a new body, transfer the software (never interrupting its running) to the new one - and the person inhabiting the old body now inhabits the new. This gets highly interesting when you consider that a sufficiently advanced computer probably could run a soul as well... Or that you could potentially copy it into two bodies... Or perhaps even meld two versions of the same consciousness back together into one.
One thing is certain: The future will be a very interesting place.
the world is
a crystal ball
you can wish for anything
the old summer leaf
a gentle brittle grace
trailing the breeze
http://www.slideshare.net/kuronekosan/gce-o-level-2010-section-b-unseen-poemthose-layered-cakes-by-john-tiong-chung-hoo
gert:
ou can find schmucks everywhere. Religious of any stripe, non-religions, actively anti-religious. But there's good folk too. Saying that 'Islam does not respect' other religions is... shall we say using a somewhat broad brush. Sure some of the louder people involved are not too pleasant - but they're not the only ones, just the newsworthy ones.
Did you know that, for instance, a number of prominent American Islamic clerics issued a fatwa condemning attacks on the USA as harmful to fellow Muslims and against the will of God? That sort of thing you will never see in the news, right along with the many moderate and very sensible Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists and atheists around. The ones you do see are the ones who shriek loudly and shrilly at one another, because -that's- newsworthy. For some reason.
the cat sleeping by the bus stop
it meows a world of loss when i pat it
two times on the head
the days are my morphine
have you anything against it?
i have been abusing myself
buddha's enlightenment
at the tree canopy
light dances with leaves
After disrupting all my morning sleep, chasing away the birds and bungling
my weekends the last three years, the 15 storey high class condominum behind ours is ready, spic and span, a enviable spacious living space that will soon be filled with people you see occupying the smart offices in and around Kuala Lumpur.
a smile that sends
the world reeling
mona lisa
Monday, November 8, 2010
Angkor Temples
a smile that sends
the world reeling
mona lisa
Madeleine...every real artist is a perfectionist...transfering real life into a piece of canvas is not that easy but i would say leonardo is very successful in that...seeing mona lisa...you can sense that he had even transferred the veins and arteries inside the person there....the whole picture is filled with a force that can only be his |"life and blood".
mona lisa
the world lining up
too see her smile
artists like poets i think are born...you really need those extra thngs..innate talents to bring out the life of a person on a little canvas.
Yes, i agree. It is the most difficult thing to do a dull thing with style. If one can do that....wow.....that's art. making the dull thing comes into life...into an excitement..
I think I can relate tio that more because I work in a newspaper. Almost everyday journalists face the same news... and it is for them to make them appetising for the readers ...the people in the newspapers are perpetual artists....making the dull things come alive...with style
all cells stilled for
the artist to concentrate
on the most beautiful me
i still the world
for a permanent place
- on a painting
i still myself
to leave myself
- in a painting
i still myself
to be frozen
on a canvas
i let the artist
freeze me on
a canvas
waterfall outing
the ladies bubbly
like the water
orange roses
nature hugs us with
such fiery emotion
angkor temples
still holding onto power
giant old roots
childhood lane
did mom drop any
of her dreams here?
God probably wants me
to be his sob story
- a poet
the world reeling
mona lisa
Madeleine...every real artist is a perfectionist...transfering real life into a piece of canvas is not that easy but i would say leonardo is very successful in that...seeing mona lisa...you can sense that he had even transferred the veins and arteries inside the person there....the whole picture is filled with a force that can only be his |"life and blood".
mona lisa
the world lining up
too see her smile
artists like poets i think are born...you really need those extra thngs..innate talents to bring out the life of a person on a little canvas.
Yes, i agree. It is the most difficult thing to do a dull thing with style. If one can do that....wow.....that's art. making the dull thing comes into life...into an excitement..
I think I can relate tio that more because I work in a newspaper. Almost everyday journalists face the same news... and it is for them to make them appetising for the readers ...the people in the newspapers are perpetual artists....making the dull things come alive...with style
all cells stilled for
the artist to concentrate
on the most beautiful me
i still the world
for a permanent place
- on a painting
i still myself
to leave myself
- in a painting
i still myself
to be frozen
on a canvas
i let the artist
freeze me on
a canvas
waterfall outing
the ladies bubbly
like the water
orange roses
nature hugs us with
such fiery emotion
angkor temples
still holding onto power
giant old roots
childhood lane
did mom drop any
of her dreams here?
God probably wants me
to be his sob story
- a poet
Friday, November 5, 2010
Deepavali postings
deepavali
her fiery red vibuthi, renewed spirit
light up his life
deepavali
in this year's light
last year's wish again
childhood lane
did mom drop any
of her dreams here?
sunset lotuses
they too have closed
for the day
My friend Sterling Price said this which I think is very clever: "To me, the word "I" is not a noun but a verb, constantly changing. So who we are is a marvelous kaleidoscope".
God probably wants me
to be his sob story
- a poet
to awaken the poet in anybody, you need to put him through all sorts of experiences...usually the worst kinds....like chiselling a flower from a very hard stone. of course, then he also must have acquired that language skills....it is only through the hands of God/nature that a poet can be born. i hope i am right in explanation. i also hope i will not be perceived as self conceited. it is just a way of getting things out of my system and understand the situation one is in.
an upper intelligence shapes our being....like the flowers in the garden. the human has a choice though...sometimes in contradiction with the choice of this intelligence's natural choice ..that's why the dilemma
deepavali
in this year's light
last year's wish again
the beauty of the season.....season of light...flame flickering,..flickering.....ligting up our wishes
hey walk around
pieces of ice crying
to be melted and warmed
in your warmth
the layers bloom
like a lotus
our seasons
the poet grasping his thought
for lines
We are an infinite space our bodies hold onto for survival and guidance. We take the bodies as our pets, pampering, satiating their wildest egos knowing one day we will part ways.
the rejang
tearing
a river of tears
just so thinly veiled
to let the body
talk to you
all souls day
the same smile from the child
next to grandma's grave
cruising, i refuse
to stop by the port of
self conceitedness
hong kong wine and dine festival
our main appetiser
the victoria harbour
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
Bintulu kite festival
sweeping us off our feet
coral fishes in the sky
A large rectangular opening is left on this condominum for good fengshui effect. People in Hong Kong are fierce believers in the fortuen of wind and water. The condominum is in Repulse Bay, the best place in Hong Kong to live because the prosperity element here is best according to fengshui master. We passed by the house of Jackie Chan as well as Run Run Shaw.
ust so thinly veiled
to let the body
talk
all souls day
the same smile from the child
next to grandma's grave
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
her fiery red vibuthi, renewed spirit
light up his life
deepavali
in this year's light
last year's wish again
childhood lane
did mom drop any
of her dreams here?
sunset lotuses
they too have closed
for the day
My friend Sterling Price said this which I think is very clever: "To me, the word "I" is not a noun but a verb, constantly changing. So who we are is a marvelous kaleidoscope".
God probably wants me
to be his sob story
- a poet
to awaken the poet in anybody, you need to put him through all sorts of experiences...usually the worst kinds....like chiselling a flower from a very hard stone. of course, then he also must have acquired that language skills....it is only through the hands of God/nature that a poet can be born. i hope i am right in explanation. i also hope i will not be perceived as self conceited. it is just a way of getting things out of my system and understand the situation one is in.
an upper intelligence shapes our being....like the flowers in the garden. the human has a choice though...sometimes in contradiction with the choice of this intelligence's natural choice ..that's why the dilemma
deepavali
in this year's light
last year's wish again
the beauty of the season.....season of light...flame flickering,..flickering.....ligting up our wishes
hey walk around
pieces of ice crying
to be melted and warmed
in your warmth
the layers bloom
like a lotus
our seasons
the poet grasping his thought
for lines
We are an infinite space our bodies hold onto for survival and guidance. We take the bodies as our pets, pampering, satiating their wildest egos knowing one day we will part ways.
the rejang
tearing
a river of tears
just so thinly veiled
to let the body
talk to you
all souls day
the same smile from the child
next to grandma's grave
cruising, i refuse
to stop by the port of
self conceitedness
hong kong wine and dine festival
our main appetiser
the victoria harbour
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
Bintulu kite festival
sweeping us off our feet
coral fishes in the sky
A large rectangular opening is left on this condominum for good fengshui effect. People in Hong Kong are fierce believers in the fortuen of wind and water. The condominum is in Repulse Bay, the best place in Hong Kong to live because the prosperity element here is best according to fengshui master. We passed by the house of Jackie Chan as well as Run Run Shaw.
ust so thinly veiled
to let the body
talk
all souls day
the same smile from the child
next to grandma's grave
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
Monday, November 1, 2010
Haiku collection
i hand on to transcience
like it is a commodity
only to be smitten with tears
i thought about nirvana
like it is a commodity
to be had eternally
only to be smitten with tears
cruising, i refuse
to stop by the port of
self conceitedness
watering my plants
the zen of sound
relaxes my senses
watering my plants
the zen of sound
relaxes my senses
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
Bintulu kite festival
sweeping us off our feet
coral fishes in the sky
roses are nature's prayers
trying to reach out
to the Creator
the roses
folds of
nature's gratitude
courtship
clothes unveil
the heart
coursthip
clothes fail to conceil
what the heart desires
little mermaid
never drying up
the sea and her love
bakun dam
impounded
the rejang and its people
one dropped leaf
the ants' green meal
feeds my fascination
rush hour subway train
donald duck on my shirt
kisses her mickey mouse
young girl and dove
each longs for
a flight of passion
like it is a commodity
only to be smitten with tears
i thought about nirvana
like it is a commodity
to be had eternally
only to be smitten with tears
cruising, i refuse
to stop by the port of
self conceitedness
watering my plants
the zen of sound
relaxes my senses
watering my plants
the zen of sound
relaxes my senses
i am the earth
plant all your beliefs
onto me
Bintulu kite festival
sweeping us off our feet
coral fishes in the sky
roses are nature's prayers
trying to reach out
to the Creator
the roses
folds of
nature's gratitude
courtship
clothes unveil
the heart
coursthip
clothes fail to conceil
what the heart desires
little mermaid
never drying up
the sea and her love
bakun dam
impounded
the rejang and its people
one dropped leaf
the ants' green meal
feeds my fascination
rush hour subway train
donald duck on my shirt
kisses her mickey mouse
young girl and dove
each longs for
a flight of passion
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