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.

 

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.

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.

 

 

 

Riverbed

We can be on the bridge
admire a fallen leaf drifting in quiet
ignore words
forget the language
trace the clarity
of that mountain
it’s as if we met here
but the ceremony of the entrance to the city
transformed our clothes
and our souls along the road
led to our love for each other
being tied up in so many ways
with strange interplay
between magic and chaos
that can’t be washed away
maybe i should leave in haste
in the midst of the glitz
wash the temptations off my hands
go back to a clean, cool wild place
if you’re wearied
in this city
go see a river
there
you can see
the stratum
the color
of your initial intentions
and thoughts.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

 

New sea

When I got to the sea

I stopped my feet

sands and salts adjoin

this is where

disordered skyscrapers yearn

to move in

where imperial ambitions

are thwarted again and again

within its nearness

the fore is flatness

unending level

a humongous zero

that no one can manage

when i stand straight

i am really standing upright

i am my own elevation

i want to go to the remotest surface

where the waves recurrently gasp

where not one individual can

make a tall enough platform to look down on

another person.

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Present

Everything is prime

the existence of beauty

the splendor of flowers

the sanctity of moonlight

the colors that occur

are all expressing the presence of beauty

butterflies flutter their wings

to prove they’ve embraced the sunshine

when light wind brushes by

there’s always a past

in my heart

i can’t let go

fond rosy memories

simple youth throbbing

and roaming friskily

a precious season to cherish.

 

©2023, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

Polyphony

Aspen and birch
in the autumn light
loud and clear
with colors bright
rousing rhythm of autumn tune
joyous and glorious
radiant interludes
the main tone it seems
is yellow and orange
red gloss of leaves
dancing a graceful foxtrot
tree bark shines with a silver hue
green expresses its reluctance
blue sky speaks of tenderness
the woods blink with mirthful
intelligence
branches wave with leisurely languor
lines and shadows limns
harmonization
polychromatic blocks lay out a rosy romantic scene
strings of gold play a saccharine melody
brass is the sunshine
the wind
moves through the forest like a harmonium
exalting the splendor of autumn sounds
the late migrating birds
elegant tinkling of the triangle
the cello sings a deep and distant bass
about the solitude of some secret glade
the cornet rejoices in fervid draughts
water glistens by the trunk of oak
ripple rings like Chinese gong
here you can really see brilliance
you can also smell exuberance
excitement of sunlight
blood sizzling and surging
through the veins
now it’s become musical
in sync with the seasonal
whirling leaves and fronds
paper planes and boats
letters and kites
feathers and notes
grains of victuals
radishes, peanuts, sweet potatoes
returned by the soil
plume of inspiration
given to the poet
the drifting of small things
interplay between
the coloring and confetti
symphony of beauties.

©2022, ChinHooi Ng.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love letter to the deep

Every night
i can hear the sound of the sea
gradually dissolving into
my heart
the sound after so many years
whether far or near
it’s always parallel to
each of my dreams
rhythm of the waves
is a breathtaking resonance
i often close my eyes
drown in the sound
of the sea
cry of a gull
it takes away worries
and offers an embrace
i can always hear the sound of the sea
the whistle of sea snails
rolling the waves into memories
stirring ripples
of a fable
echoes from the sky
from blue light of time
at this time the night
carries silence of a car
rolling over the sandy compass
this wild field from the gravel
to the floating ethereal horizon
the immortal
loneliness of the meridian
the distance where warriors disappear
into pasture of the past
rugged posture of boulders
silhouette of leviathan
shining back on the remains of bows and quills
the altitude of waters
after the collision of the soul and the bulging form
is the extremity of the firmament
shield of silver bedecked with corals
antique like cloud-patterned armor
the magnificence
and the bashfulness
rarefied dream blurs the air
at this time the stars
are gone
sentiments of the ancient lore
shall become the eternal motto.

©2022, ChinHooi Ng.