Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Untitled

A changed man he became
But who was to know
for the poor maiden was quietly sobbing
and waiting for him to turn back time

To the times where she was the only
His affection was unequaled
Unduly worried she became
Maiden's tears flood the rivers

Little did she know he sat across
Pining for her longing for her assurance
But her gaze drifted far from his reach
An irrevocable love cast away by her

Italics are by a friend, miss tjt. :)

The Swing

Once upon a time there was a playground with an old swing by the edge of the lake in the park.

Xena loves to hang out at the old swing. This swing overlooks everything, from across the lake to way beyond, way beyond where she could ever reach or ever be at.

Xena loves to hog the swing. She will wake up in the wee hours of the morning, gobble down last night’s dinner that she envisions as breakfast, and rushes towards the swing just to be the first person to ride that swing.

She will climb atop the swing; push herself as far as she can ever go.

Whoosh! The wind blows past her shirt.

Whoosh! The wind blows past her cheeks.

Whoosh! The wind blows her hair straight out, a sheet of black.

She loves the sound of wind in her ears. All her nightmares are cleared the moment she starts swinging on that swing.

She even believes that the swing has magical powers! The night before she falls asleep, she will pray that the swing will bring her the worst nightmare she could ever have in her life.

You may not see the point in her seemingly silly prayers, but her point is – if she swings hard and the swing is still able to swing her fears away, it will prove that the swing is really magical!!!

So this particular night, she wished and prayed extremely hard for the worst nightmare in her life. She did not know why, but she felt that she needed even more affirmation that this swing is magical.

That night, she dreamt that a giant monster had taken over to swing.

The giant monster climbed atop the swing.

To and fro, to and fro he swings. The poor swing creaks under the weight of the giant monster, almost as though it is screaming out for help.

Xena really wanted to help. But this giant monster was 3 times her size, even if she threw rocks at it, the rocks just bounced off his body and he would not even feel a single itch.

Finally, the poor swing could no longer take the immense torture this monster is inflicting onto it. It gave an almighty loud creeaaakkk and splash!!! The swing gave its final bubble from the lake (or maybe it was the giant monster’s last breath).

Xena woke up in perspiration (a lady does not sweat, she perspires). She wiped her brow, gobbled down her last night’s dinner that she thought was breakfast, and went to where the swing was, down beside the lake.

She climbed atop the swing like any other morning, but today, she swung the hardest. She needed to get the nightmare out of her mind. Awfully traumatised, she kept looking around for a giant monster that may appear to snatch away her golden seat (she thinks it is HER golden seat even though there is only one seat) and got distracted as she swung harder and harder.

She was so focused on looking for the giant monster that she could not hear the complaining creak from the swing that was getting louder and louder.

Suddenly she felt the wind blowing against her hair, clothes and face even stronger than before. Then she was grabbing air and her butt was in the air. She was no longer on her golden seat – she had flown off the seat and towards the lake she flew!

Splash!

Her poor life ended with a water display. The swing gave its final creak, thinking to itself that the giant monster in the nightmare it gave her is actually herself – Xena.

Poor Xena! For her whole life (which was not that long anyway), she had deluded herself that the swing is ridding her of her nightmares. Instead, this evil swing is giving her those nightmares. But we cannot possibly blame the swing, can we? Xena swings the swing so hard that it creaks endlessly, but she ignores it. So does she deserve the death swim?

Well, we can’t say for sure, but this swing really does have magical powers!

Author's note: Once again, this story is purely fictional and any resemblance to any person or incident is purely coincidental! This was written in exchange for another story - the friend has to write on the same first line, with his own story! :) I'll post his up later.

About - The Girl Who Drinks Too Much Water

Gulp gulp gulp!

That was her 15th cup of the day. She loves the feeling of the smooth liquid gliding down her throat, the coolness bringing her body temperature down one notch, just enough to make her feel like she can face the world. Yes, face the world with a degree-lighter body temperature and of course, a smoother throat.

Did I mention that this 15th cup of the day is drunk at 11am in the morning? Guess not. She woke up at 10am, by the way.

She says this to herself every single day, at least once every hour: If I don’t drink enough, I’ll dehydrate! I’ll look like all those shrinking, wrinkled and ugly radishes with brownish skin. Why, even SK II won’t help!

Of course, she’s also a diligent user of SK II products. All the money (or almost all) that’s supposed to go to food goes to SK II products. She has all the whitening series, hydrating series, etc. Her motto is: Moisturising is the key to success!

But her poor stomach is fully traumatised! It feels all bloated and “over-nourished” with all the goodness of water that she’s been drinking. The last count that I managed to do accurately (it’s hard to count as she hides herself in her room to drink too) was 35 glasses of water per day! Darn, I don’t even drink 8 glasses per day. With these 35 glasses, she not only chases the doctor away, the poor doctor has to go one round and come back.

One day, she felt even more dehydrated than ever. She gulps down all the water her mom boiled and prepared for her forever-feeling-dehydrated daughter (3 huge kettles), and went on to drink more. She drank from everywhere, well almost everywhere. She drank straight from the tap. Since it was raining that day and she was out, she drank straight from the rain.

When the rain stopped, she scooped some clear water from that puddle at the side of the road and poured it down her throat. It may not be as smooth as treated water, but it will do. She drank and drank, almost non-stop. Well, I wanted to count for you readers, but she was too fast and I was distracted by the rainbow that appeared just after the rain! I wouldn’t want to give you guys an inaccurate number, would I?

So anyway, she drank until she felt her stomach would burst, and continued drinking! She drinks all kinds of liquids now. She wanted to compare the smoothness of each kind of liquid – dishwashing liquid, coke, cold medicine, etc.

Then she fainted.

What a sad ending to her life! She died in the hospital due to an overdose of liquids, or water, that her face was so smooth and her stomach was even smoother- because they were all stretched out due to the extreme intake of liquids. And guess what? Her stomach burst on her way to the hospital! The different kinds of liquid painted the insides of the ambulance a really beautiful rainbow colour.

Go take a look, there’s fuchsia (from Bandung), electric blue (from Dynamo), lime green (from Mama Lemon), dark red (the blood of a dog she killed to drink plus her own), yellow (urine from a passerby – she just opened her mouth and waited) and violet (poison ivy’s leaves).

Note from author: This story is purely fictional. Any resemblance to any character or incident is purely coincidental.

Monday, February 26, 2007

The Spasdomic Mind

A pang of sunlight jags my soul
This yearning hunger, please, begone!

Emotive striken, insomniac minds
To rest my eyes, I crave for doze

Plunging dams; literary floods unleashed
Allow poetic words to cleanse my soul

Demiurgic I am not, hear me out
May this be an ode, that appeals to no lout

The Waiting Game

Almost a lifetime, you sit and pine
For a smile so sweet; you can say "she's mine"

Try owning her, heart and soul
She'll walk unfazed, away from your abode

Grip too tight; you'll crush the petal
Grip too loose; you'll lose it forever

(add-on)
Fruits will yield, despite the wait
For it's almost a lifetime, not an eternity

Sunday, February 25, 2007

lead me back on track, somebody

I'm lost, again.

Uncertainties are blinding my vision, shrouding my hopes and dreams with a black cape.

It's blocking my path. No, I just realized it's not. It's misting up, fogging my vision. I don't know what to do.

I'm filled with gnawing anxiety, worries and insecurities. Is this the route I really want to walk down? Is that what I envision myself to be? What makes me so sure that I can do it?

The number of questions corroding my confidence are countless. It's rusty already.

What am I to do now? :(

Feed me with large dosages of healing self-esteem; lend me a walking stick.

No, I won't be hand-held, I won't be spoon-fed. 'Tis a battle of my own, I fight it myself; or let me be owned.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Poems can be easy to write, but not when you hafta fix them to rhyme, closed-form, sonnets, etc. This was written in less than 5 mins but I still hate to think of rhyming words. :( A lousy poem but oh well, maybe one day I'll find it useful. Heh.

Pack my lunches, pack my days
Pack my luggage, I'll move away

To the brim, fill me in
Worsen my health, it seems to dim

That's the way, I deem fit
To live my life, routes I'll pick