Poem: Shipping Out

Shipping Out
creepy lonely feeling
this melancholic tang
o’ sweet sour taste
that’s felt more than tasted

as if there’s a finality
to everything

as if my soul is
reviewing my life

I’m packing my emotions
in a green duffel bag
shipping out
and starting anew

Ivan Chew
Originally drafted (heh, pun unintended) in 2006, June.

“Bags” originally uploaded by n2linux

Poem: Caffeine overdose

Caffeine overdose
feeling edgy
from a caffeine overdose

four frothy consecutive cups creamer fortified rich brown coffee loaded with a dash of sugar or two i don’t know how many dashes i lost count i think i went overboard with the sugar

and now I feel
spent.

Ivan Chew
2006, May 22

“Creamy cappuccino” originally uploaded by adactio

Candy on the Train Floor

Candy on the Train Floor
——————–
Chupa Chup
Half-sucked
Stuck
on the train floor

24 Jun 2006
(My wife & I co-wrote this when we saw this half-eaten candy in the train carriage. It’s not great poetry. Not even passable, I think. But it’s something my wife and I did together. That’s something!)

poem: Flawed

He knows he should
Be happy for them.

He is
In a way
But tainted
By envy.

And the sour
Taste of childhood insecurities
And inferior complexities.

~ ivan chew

Poem: Sameness

Sameness
——–
I fear
I dread
That everyday will be the same.

So I escape
Into anything
And everything that makes me unafraid:

Music
Movies
Books
Dreams –
If only for the moment.

I need
I crave
For someone to talk to

But fear
Is that awkward glue
That seals my mouth into silence.

So I escape
Into everything
That is the same.

Ivan Chew
Jan 2009

Drafted this back in 2006 and only rediscovered it as I was clearing out my harddisk today. Decided to clean up and tighten a few lines and posted it. Not perfect. I feel there’s something not quite smooth to the flow. Ah well.

The poem was inspired by The Reflective Teacher, from this para near the end:

“So I’ll start off the whole shebang with a statment like: Every day is the same. And let the student create the rest of the writing.”

The moment I read “Everyday is the same”, I started to pen down the words. You can say it’s a fictitious piece inspired by real-life elements.

If You Were A Dance

Lyrics that I wrote for a song. Posting it to see how it looks as a poem.

“To my wife. Thanks for the bread “

If You Were A Dance
============

I know your face
From the visions in my dreams
I know your smile
From the memories in between

If you were a star
Then I’m I’d be the fleeting wind

I know your touch
My worries melt away
I know your laugh
They’re clear and bright as day

If you were a stream
Then I’m I’d be a floating dream

I’m the silent wall
And through it all
I’ll never let you fall

If you were a Dance
I’ll I’d be your song
And we will would carry on
Into the Dawn

~ Ivan Chew
6 June 2008

[Updated, 7 June 08: Corrected the inconsistent tenses. Thanks to M.F. for the pointers!]

Poem: Still Standing

Inspired by a chat with Linda Ong, from Lunarin. This one’s for you, Linda O.

STILL STANDING
==========
Being cut
Up

Did me a lot of good.

When you
Saw me in the hospital later

Your first words were:

I have never seen
You so calm.

And you
Were right, you know?

I was calmer
And better

The scars were almost
Faded like a lost song

What’s important is that
Here
I am

A little thinner
But still standing.

~ Ivan Chew, 28 May 2008

Lonely Tree
Originally uploaded by fitaloon

Poem: Visayan Adventure #3

A poem I wrote back in 2002, after visiting the Philippines with a fellow SSEAYPian, Lim. We were hosted by Nick (who made sure we touched all the major islands), attended Ian’s wedding and caught up with friends like Tisha (I think V-lyn and Grain)… and a whole bunch whose names I’ve forgotten (sorry!)

Reading this again brought back memories of food and places. Lots of cryptic references. The poem (which can be improved from the technical viewpoint) probably means a lot more to me that anyone else reading.

Visayan Adventure #3
—————————-

Which was first?
Heavenly Halo-Halo
(subsequent overkill)
Succinct Su-tu-kil

I recall
Raw marlin in coconut vinegar
Name forgotten but
Taste remembered

Eyes feasted upon
Churches, old buildings
Glinting butterflywings
Nature’s pigments in manmade paintings

Restaurant or Street food?
Roasted chicken, cup of rice
Bamboo skewed, hand to mouth
I survived

Knife in the back
A hunk of roasted bliss
Scrapping fats off lard ladened Lechon
(Whatcha lookin’ at?)

Emerald Green
Colour of Bohol’s river
Therapeutic water massage
Reminiscence of
Refreshing green mango shakes

Love at first taste
Sweet tooth meets Ms. B .D. Mercedes
In a second home in Bacolod
But infatuation soon replaced
By nostalgic Sansrivals
Heart tied in Red Ribbon

Final lingering
Lighted headed on Light (I blame San Miguel)
In a moment of drunken courage
I am onstage,
With an unrehearsed rendition of Metallica

Last night in Cebu,
Of a journey of first tastes

Ivan Chew, 5 June 2002

“The Weight of an Empty Page”, by Regina De Rozario

Came across these beautiful words written by Regina aka Wrkshy. Asked on a whim if I could use them as lyrics for a song (to be composed). She said yes. And might even use it in a presentation if it’s any good.

You’re on, Regina!

The weight of an empty page
An empty page is a train track at the start of the day, waiting for lines to arrive, roll up and take off.

It is the sullen storm that grounds all flight, forcing me to retreat behind safe, closed doors.

It is the familiar cotton blanket my mother pulls up to my chin before she turns out the light.

It is the corridor that passes me everyday, undecorated, except for cracks that need to be concealed.

It is the lone, fluorescent window that greets me as I stumble home at 4am.

It is a bare hospital bed, just there.

It is the crisp linen I shroud my mother in, before our last goodnight.

It is a bleached wasteland, where the ashes of distant failures wait to be unearthed and replaced with new disappointments.

It is an undiscovered world that calls out to me to be claimed. A foreign landscape, gleefully stumbled upon where fences do not yet exist.

Every silent page bound together, face to face, tells me when there is nothing, there is something still. Without even a mark, these pages carry weight.

Without a word, these layers of blankness are what I reach for in the emptiest of hours; they weave the blanket I pull over myself on the hollowest of days.

Link

UPDATE: Song is here!

Poem: On My Way To Work

First published at the 28th SSEAYP Amateur Poetry Club (I set that up in 2001), Issue #1, Dec 2001.

On My Way To Work
Rainbow ashes built
Upon butterfly dreams.
Silver silhouettes of florescent fishes
Dancing beneath green marble floors.

Bleary eyes stung
By artificial cold.
Echoes of hard knocks
On polished rock, resounding.

Nameless faces rushing
To daytime jobs.
I weave among human traffic
In a race whose prize is to beat the clock.
Ivan Chew, 10 Nov 2001

I wrote this at a time when my office was based in the city. I alighted at City Hall MRT station and had to walk through City Link (an underground shopping area). I the airconditioning was particularly cold and sharp. Stung my eyes. And the sounds of ladies high heels on marble floors. I remember thinking that everyone was so intent on getting to the office. No one spoke. The poem basically describes the scenes from that walk.

This photo (including the title) depicts the scene perfectly.
Zombies
Originally uploaded by Atlantys