A POEM FOR OCT 4 2017

秋风见冬顶 银湖流满月 独农下马村 仓守春蜜罐 Roughly translated: Autumn winds meet winter peaks The lake is silver from the full moon light A lone farmer returns to Horse Village Where a store guards Spring honey pots

A WINNING EXPERIENCE AT CANON PHOTOMARATHON: MARK ANTHONY LIM

Mark Anthony Lim was the winner of Canon PhotoMarathon XIV in 2016. He wowed judges with his lively perspectives and spirited captures. In light of the upcoming Canon PhotoMarathon on 23rd September, we find out about his competition experience and his takeaways. Winner of Canon PhotoMarathon Mark Anthony Lim at Oarai Isosaki Shrine, Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan during the…

FAIRY TALE, ENDING

So this is it. It’s not the day that democracy died, because opposing pundits will say that that was already a dead dog. But certainly this is the day that it was most felt by the general Singaporean. Halimah Yacob, uncontested, has become the next President of Singapore in an uncontested walkover. The memes came…

FIRST DAY. LAST DAY.

My earliest memory eating at a kopitiam is also one of my fondest. It was a coffee shop beside the main market at Toa Payoh Lorong 8 and it had all the fixtures – slightly slippery floor tiles, wooden chairs caved to the butt with floral pattern worn away by diners, cracked marble table tops turned…

This Is ReaLee Not About That House

For all the years the Opposition have tried to justify their accusations of nepotism and corruption of the ruling party, none have delivered a blow like the recent allegations from PM Lee Hsien Loong’s own siblings, Mr Lee Hsien Yang and Dr Lee Wei Ling. Singaporeans are understandably, up to this day, divided. This is…

Welcome to my April

They say kings are born in April. Power I have little of – at least over a nation; But Iran is currently ruling my heart and state of being. I must have a magpie as a totem animal because I like collecting receipt stubs, local plants, odd packets and (as a mermaid once said) thingamabobs…

Stolen Stories: Sungei Road’s Last Page

There are antique timepieces beside mobile chargers and colourful plastic jewellery. A Barbie sits patiently, her dress a little weathered but still pretty. Underneath a table, an old photo of a man in his youthful glory is captured with an auric glow. These remnants of the past may seem useless, but new owners can be…

Rochor Centre – Final farewells

Rochor Centre at night, with darkness veiling the bright colours, brings out another mistress – one pensive yet still robust. The quiet voice of rebellion exists, as activities in her compound past its official clearance deadline, is flickering but still seen, from the occasional odd window with clothes left out to dry. There’s also a bunch…

Next stop – Cantonment

This is it. The last day of Tanjong Pagar Railway Station as a shell space for events like today’s Christmas fair. After this, it’s a long many years before it opens up as Cantonment Mrt station. It’s funny how as I stood in this empty room, with teal panes a hipster cafe would kill for, the…

Salaam

For the price of a stay-cation at Marina Bay Sands, I can now fly to Tehran. Tough call – not. Thank you Thai Airways! ❤

Of filters, walks and song

A natural filter comes over us, and disregarding the smell, it brings a surreal quality to the quieter parts of Singapore. Hello Indonesian haze. In between two appointments, I took a 30-minute walk between City Square mall and Shaw Towers, and came across a nice stretch of boardwalk just behind Victoria Street. Extended decks and…

Lessons in Foresight & Grace: The Schoolings

It’s not easy being an athlete in Singapore. If you’re lucky, you get some form of public funding. But most will have to fight it out on their own. Such was the case for Joseph Schooling – now Olympic gold medalist in the 100m butterfly event. And already the credit-claimers are circling en masse. Look…

Of why I enjoy my bus rides

Because it usually accords me a seat. And because sometimes, moments like these appear, where three strangers get lulled by the bus into a deep sleep, all made lethargic by the beating summer sun of Singapore. I love my bus rides.

The Beginning at The End

It’s the last day of 2015. It feels like something should be observed. But all I’m really doing this last day is to start my blog. I’ve done this several times before. On Blogspot. On Livejournal. On Tumblr. But a lack of focus has always thrown me off. Life has a way with distractions. But…

Adrift

I’m anchored mostly to my pier. One made of weather-worn planks aged 36 years and a little more. I think I hear it creaking these days. It’s not a pretty pier, studded with barnacles and wrapped by strands of watery undergrowth, but it’s my own private dock, shaped from my own hands. I’ve forgotten what…

After 35

I was going to prune a flowering plant when a bee flew to it. I then thought, “Okay I’ll leave you be.” Then I chuckled to myself. It has begun.

I’m not bored but…

Given the myriad of options around us, I am finding that, inversely, some people are getting bored more easily.

Sad Spark

And I bid farewell to Torey. His engine buzzed happily away as his new owner Benjamin rode him off into the night. I will miss you even though I hardly rode you.

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Swathe me in ink. The night sky and her moon. Sprinkle my forehead with galaxies. And let starry rays lampoon, all woven thoughts & seeds.

Where in the world are you at?

Where in the world are you at? Are you beneath the curling leaf, a cosy caterpillar of hibernating show? I think maybe you will show yourself upon the next step’s ripple. Maybe between the breath of the seconds, you will slip like a dancer between prismatic veil. And you will smile gladly at my mortal…

T&C Salad (Served with a generous helping of friends)

So in case I ever forget this self-dreamed-up recipe, or if any of my friends would like to recreate it, here’s the recipe for my salad this afternoon! T&C Salad 1 large bowl or 1 large bag of mixed greens, such as Romaine, Rocket & Arugula 12 pcs of sun-dried tomatoes ½ cup spiced feta…

This morning

I reached for my lamp in the dark. Stretching, I found the handle dangling by my elbow. I reached too far for the light.

If you ever hire a freelance designer

Please DO NOT: 1. Say you just need a simple website/flyer/brochure/poster. Most of the time, it doesn’t turn out to be so. 2. Say you want a classic or elegant or (worst of all) nice design. Those are some of the most over-used and vague descriptions that doesn’t mean anything to me. Together with simple. 3….

fair tales

no. there cannot be that hidden wood, where apple drips last wishes and sorrow. would i but hold yet another word for your flight – edged with nettle and down. dive deep my sweet, for your simple dreams, and rise you will. amongst the titans, hair a golden flourish, feet a gossamer blur, tell me….

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We rule the forest, and we run through the green, tree shadows dappling like a herd of grey stallions. Moist dew sprays released by thrashing ferns, liquid stars of a moment, melt into the moss, created by our careless brush. This flight of ours may be eternal, impressed as a scene of joyful abandonment, but…

Tribute to The Hours

there is nothing to capture the strains of the hours when you are lying on a carpet of thoughts the languid gravity laps at the ears as a cold warmth rises feeling of soft hands vignettes lines commas and pauses all things unsaid and others not unforgotten breathe out their purpose and the whispered air…

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in steps of three we take down pebbled thoughts on healthy knees, the stroll around the shell within or one of the many of these can let us see the glowing moth, the sleeping owl, the green-barked tree, or chance that opening through for the drowning salmon, the messy spider, mayhaps the walking snake that…

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it was moving inside curling and unfurling and i held on to the reins to the river handles of imaginary will and temporary sanity flicking fickle-dom of white, gold and sprays it goes where it wants it collects where it rests and never and never will it end that is the beauty of this state

Dust

The star fell. Silver sliver and cold sparks flailing against the sleeping sky, but no one made a wish. And yet it still flashed brilliant diamond, til there was nothing left but a smokey trail of dreams, dust and what could have been. And no one made a wish.