Lazurite

The sea stirs
up thoughts of lazuli
dense forests behind
the debris are now forgotten
curved beaches summon
a multiplication of bowstrings
the power that subjugates
the auricles
before the eyes
choler of the tides is born
and dies
water arches its back
extruding an avalanche
of foams
watch
the fine current retreat
merging into the phantom
of a backwash
seated
in the infinity of pebbles
the silence within him is being
burnished
such to be held
by a pair of secret hands
in the immortal distance
faraway
somewhere betwixt the heaviness
of two shades of royal blue
there is a revelatory magnitude
of unknowing.

©2024, ChinHooi Ng.

 

Time on my hands

One minute i need
to ignore the vagaries
of this current world
one gust of wind i need
to disperse the constant haze
over my head
one candy i need
let me just forget
the mundane pain, the bitterness
some time of peace and beauty
on a clean balcony
I get too languid like a kitten
enjoying balmy afternoon sun
comfortably
holding my phone on silent
sipping a cup of tea
the cool breeze of the season
intermingled with a kind of light fragrance
is this not a kind of perfect mystique?
pocket-sized opulence
a clement fantasy
sitting and watching the clouds change
listening to distant flowering and fading
the skyline, the seaside, the sand, the tide
the sun setting in my eyes
the surrounding poetry is dream
i cradle in my hands
the moment
in this field of vision
feels so right
looking up at what’s in front of me
the shape of my mind
gradually clarifies.

©2024, ChinHooi Ng.

 

Karma

Letting out the loudest cry
I begin to wake the clouds
I begin to see the mighty wings of young eagles
flying in the firelight of sunrise
the weightless air seems to grow its wings too
it flees from the speeding timepiece
shadows gallop on and on in the wintry glow
menacing like smoldering embers
rippling river of comforter
rolling morass of crimson mist
glimmering glory shoots
across the majestic mountain range
seething blood is pumped through the system
pupils reflect the flares of volcanic passion
I take my time to vocalize
while gazing into the glaring distances
I walk with torrents of dawn
cascading down the vaults of heavens
many times I’ve tried
to clamber out of the memory
of dark weeping nights
ghastly clarity that slumps
into muddiness of the gulch
I’ve had enough.

©2024, ChinHooi Ng.

 

Giver

Since I was a kid
i always thought of the rain
as some type of spirit
raindrops falling non-stop
granules of crystal come from Tlaloc
at this very moment
everything is empowered to blossom
from this misty perspective
the distance is just right in front of me
the world gets so close to me
it touches me
rain looks like a poem to me
the lilacs, the grass, the leaves
soiled watermarks stamped
on shoes
tinged umbrellas set afloat
like boats
rain does look like a poem
too many things tend to happen
within
too many tales we can’t understand
the murky desolation
it lands on footpaths
the thundering divinity
flashes through the glass
there’s a touch of tenderness
that whispers in your ear
sometimes the rain is a teal blue sprite
it loves to roam through the town
through the stillness of the night
roving the lonely mountains and plains
nameless corners and courtyards
it becomes gentle
at the window
wherever it goes
it proposes to soothe the soul.

©2024, ChinHooi Ng.

Tightrope walker

Amidst the gazes of spectators
there still remain
remnants of a little grin on your face
the dream is just your personal strength
your own force
to ideate the rope to be more and broad
in line with the initial aspirations
to not fall down
and fall to pieces
no matter how twisted the world may get
you have to use that pole of purpose
to keep yourself balanced
every step forward
means you have left
behind the sorrows of the past
there’s no going back
ahead of you is the many-hued haze
of the future
beneath your feet is the immeasurable depths
of every day
in fact
we’re all the same
even if i manage
to end up at the other side
I’m just one of a myriad of us
who walk on the tightrope of life.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

 

 

Good enough

I woke up

on a rainy afternoon

in a state of quietude

outside the window

the sky is pale

but clouds are at peace

garden-fresh prayers happen

in every rural village

every open wilderness

every mountain range

on this rain-slicked afternoon

the ears are cleansed

by cherubic birdsong

the hurly-burly of the city

is reduced to fog

I did nothing at all

au fond

i breathed in

and out

for the rest of the day

and I think

that’s okay

in fact

that’s more

than enough.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

Golden hour

While there’s no looping instrumental
of some car and kitchen smoke
i stand in the middle of a field road
listening to the reposeful strings
of glinting sunset
the dusk is as thin a veil
as a silent ripple on the lake
it can’t hide my lingering
ornate hues in the sky are
but serenity of stones at this hour
the quiet here
it bores through the bones
of the time and space
time starts to falter it seems
space stops its breathing
the laurel drupes
hanging from another corner
where sorrow can’t be retained any longer
deep sentiments thus melt
into a cooling breeze
caressing the pallid twilight
upon the belated arrival
of a feathered friend
tall trees that have been around for eons
harbor traces of speechlessness
as faithful darkness is taking over
the moment i turn away from the tootle
i take away hopes and dreams of old houses and trees
rolled up neatly in the river that will seep
slow into my bloodstream
i will take them away
with me
sure as the stoic shadow beneath
my feet.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

 

Morning sea

Sheeny scaly waves
unintentionally pull
at the strings of a mermaid’s
love
golden melody popples
wantonly in an instant
strands of musical notes
bloom into cyan combers
like flowers
on the peak of springtime
this thumping heart of mine
breaks through the barricades
of longings
jumps into the warm and inviting
undulating bosom of the sea
soaking in the nourishment of care and generosity
drifting along
like an infant in a cradle
close to the crystal clear cheek
of heaven
listening to the little zingy
deep-toned sounds of aquatics
this deep blue theme
gobbles up time and space
muddles up joy and sadness
of the opaque universe.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

Late one afternoon

The afternoon
is not a season
per se
but the notion of permanence
is here
the sun stirs
the schoolyard
month of August jumps
onto the basketball court
every boxwood shrub
reared up
an imposing sight that is
honorable
branches of the trees
maidenly clean
occasionally there is a strand
of smoke
like a fluttering ribbon
in the fairness of the day
green hues of youth
spotted everywhere
from the top of the mountain
to that corner of the earth
the solid line
of footprints in the sky
headed northward
in an animated formation
wild geese came up with the pattern.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

Sun shower

Lurking in the clouds
or behind the mounds
the rains of June come
when they say they will
the sun can hardly hide
the cloudburst
releasing a brisk and clear
lambent luster
it does take a little courage
to walk in such pelting wet weather
over and over the umbrella is tipped over
by the wind
but i sure can’t let go of it
and accidentally i
wade through the scuds
showers in June
they fade without a trace
what’s left and what’s taken away
a little bit of longings here and there
the jumpy hearts
the muggy air
together they’re crisply managed
by the tempest
then the leaves
no longer are they shriveled up
teardrops of joy hang on blossoming
flowers
revealing a tantalizing
sentimentality
every puddle of water
is a patch of solar power
buoyant and bouncing
energy.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.