The ninth month of the Muslim year.
Perseverance triumphs the callous sun
that bruises thirst
in throats pained by sea’s amnesia.
“It was written down upon you
as it was upon those before you.”
You shall not eat nor drink in the day.
We have our first meal balancing on threads
of after dark and before dawn.
But it is true dusk that awakens the hollow’s pulse.
The mosque clambers to prepare for Iftar
where the people, penniless or rich, feast together.
Honor the poor:
Pick the flesh off a Medjool date,
and dine on porridge.
We are equals.
Again, we rise to wed hunger with faith,
charting the bones of humility
for thirty nights, in thriving modesty
breaking the stasis with rapture’s Eid.
- For my late grandmother.
Poetry Final Collection of 10 poems, 22.04.2011
Man, I’ve waited for a long time to publish this ;p Patience is not one of my greatest strengths but imma try this holy month to be less of a chocolate cake abuser and more of a warm cup of milk + a Medjool date sort of girl.
But who am I kidding? I’ve already got next week’s dinners planned out in my moleskine: Beef lasagne topped with the ultra french bechamel sauce, creamy artichoke and shrimp linguine when Yumi hangs out at my apartment next week (WB SOCIAL LIFE!), honey braised chicken – just to name a few. Of course while I still plan on indulging in my habitual greedy affair with food, I will try to get rid of some bad habits and maybe birth some good ones. In any case, I’m thrilled Ramadhan is here again. This is the best time to do some soul cleansing and grey area detoxin’ (if you get my drift). Ramadhan Mubarak to all my Muslim readers!
In response to Sofia Coppola’s film, Lost in Translation (2003).
Crumpled sheets and a hotel with no name.
He leaves her with a kiss that bruises her knees.
She looks below and sees the city,
Atlantic lights playing with red blue pink orange gold.
It has a different smell from her New York but tastes the same.
Urban trees bear the same fruit,
packaged under a different name.
The streets are beaten with stilettos
And pelted with runaway stars.
She can tell them apart after the third day,
they watch her as she watches them
Same streaks of blonde,
fake like her pink hair,
But their renegade dreams too real.
The rain looks like it touches her
But it doesn’t, her 100 yen shield.
Transparent, it unfolds onto the skies,
turns back time
And removes his kiss.
The city was hers, not his.
She went as far as Kyoto,
Snaking through carmine temples,
Where monks painted loneliness on her wrists.
But she didn’t leave and still by the window,
Toe nails painted red, she whispers “Goodbye, Tokyo.”
- For Aaron.
Poetry Final Collection of 10 poems, 15.04.2011
Oh my gosh, my Poetry results came out today and I scored 90/100 for it..I’m stunned, speechless etc I can’t even think properly right now so please forgive my garble! It’s not in my nature to be shy about things but I rarely ever show my “real” writing to people other than myself. Writing is, I suppose, one of the areas I’m convinced I will never be good at. Fortunately, my Singaporean mentality comes in handy in such instances, rejecting the thought of failure and reminds my frail ego to toughen up or risk upsetting my mother by getting a B. Tough love – that’s just the way it is with Asian parents.
Most people would be stumped when asked to name their favourite movie but I can honestly say nothing has ever topped Lost in Translation in my mind’s eye. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and it still is. Its soundtrack is perfection and while the ending doesn’t make me bawl like it used to, I still appreciate the mystery it leaves me with. I have always, always wondered what happens to Scarlett Johansson’s character, Charlotte, after the movie and this poem is my personal response to that. If you have watched the film, I do hope you enjoy this poem and if you haven’t, what are you waiting for omg? Watch it!
As with all my best and favourite poems, Charlotte is dedicated to my best friend, Aaron. He’s the only person who gets my obsession with Lost in Translation because he’s obsessed with it himself! Plus I send him all my poem drafts and he reads them without complaint, stepping in only when he sees something he dislikes to say “OH MY GOD WHAT IS THIS EMO SHIT” HAHAHAHAHA I love you bb! Aaron thinks Charlotte is my best poem yet and I sorta agree – it’s going to be difficult surpassing my borrowing of Sofia Coppola’s magic in Lost in Translation. I don’t know if I should post the rest of my poems up on tea noir since poetry isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I figured I’ll start and leave you with my best.
tea noir will be back to regular programming next week! Hello to my new readers and thank you so much for leaving me a comment! I know there’s a ton of comments I haven’t replied to in my last two entries but I will get back to you guys over the next couple of days. So much drama happened during my birthday but more on that later! I have to start packing urgh, my flight back home is in 3 days!