Cher Yen, Jia En, Chiao Yee

25/10/2012

They came to me this morning

the three binti of warm enthusiasm, innocence

9 30 am

Jia En, Cher Yen, Chiao Yee

plonking in contentment on the new rattan sofa here

in t shirt of picture, half jeans, leg bare

of pretty thirteen year elegance

we talked about the weekend, what they did, where they went

complete book 9b

I told them about employment, employer, employee,

retirement, part of the PMR book, 10/10 question correct

their car here not on time,

they wait on the sofa now,

chatting in quiet, inconsequential way;

Jia En,

before walking one hundred meter to home,

to practice piano, here squatting, examining,

analyzing a potted group of plant

Cher Yen,

off to Kuala Lumpur,

told to keep eye open, take in the technology,

geography of the trip

Chiao Yee,

epitome of enjoyment of jelly, cup cake,

came back from car

informing me her brother won’t come tomorrow

bye to them, a trio happy,

clean, polite, interesting,  

a teenage female image of the Debussy string quartet

pity there are three of them…

rain coming on, with mega-power 22 30, bringing a memory back

Poem of 2 / poem of zero / E m p t y p o e m

I type here, a poem of 2

We two

can go to

the Tuareg bazaar

in Timbuktu

to buy a cockatoo or two

you two can come, too

You, too, are a bloody moron, Richard Hugh

Poem of Zero

08/10/2012

11 59 am

Hi

I want to write about zero

I begin here; I finish here

there you are, you have it

poem of  zero

empty

not a thing

nothing

z

e

r

o

Bye

22 49 12/11/2012

E M P T Y

M        T

P      P

T M

Y T P M E 


Empty, there you are

Raw cicak yuk

back there, I get a cold beer

plonk on worktop, baby cicak there

I brush, in caring way, with cinnamon jar

off he/she went

the fan whirring

non-stop dog barking in the lane

Rhiannon on the phone in bedroom,

cicak chattering

the rear garden lit in the light

bamboo, banana clear

insect talk to me but no comprehension

back there,

baby cicak back again

addiction to the aroma of beer

I’m concerned that

he/she won’t climb the glass, fall in,

me ingest; it might put me off eating...

 ‘What did you have for dinner tonight?’

‘Oh, almonds, beer, a cicak, raw.’

‘How ethnic; your degree, in Anthropology?’
‘Um, part of it, yep; got an A.’

‘How disgusting; why don’t we go for dinner of GM carrot, pea,
cabbage, with a wad of force-fed goose pâté, irradiated battery chicken?’

‘How excellent; oh, imagine that, a filthy bugger, cicak and beer, yuk.’

PJK 11 October, 2012 / 1433

going to the palace in Kuala Terengganu

to get her PJK,

a big moment for her in life, in a brief minute

the baju kurung of a pale brown,

elegant golden brooch

a scarf across shoulder, new shoe complimenting,

complementing the garb

her name, three pace,

hands together, raising

bowing before a golden King

but the clasp malfunctioning…

he asking her to bring hands in front

then placing the ribbon, medal in her palm

raising her hands above her head, a bow,

‘Junjung kasih, Tuanku’

he shook her hand, not the norm

then backward walking

to her place

in the ornate auditorium

Technonology

9 December 2007 2230

here, no internet tonight

intermittent connection

playing the fool, conspiring;

winking in gratuitous imbecility,

unable to participate in inspiring

a half-wit technology;

there was no rain to make an excuse

for flooded terrain, inept wiring;

one lazy modem, fed-up with work,

contemplating retiring

to be part of geology;

here, no internet, up tight

Monsoon here, hear

21/9/2012

Here,

in the garden, with the wind, with rain

rotting the roots of the papaya tree

I hear battering rhythm of pellet, here

the rain, unceasing to me, comes back,

then goes away, then back

I hear watery rhythm of breaker, here

the rain, tiring after the afternoon workout

thinking to take a break

I hear quiet rhythm of nothing, here

by the back, the pepper plant, cut  by amah,

bamboo, flowering bunga raya,

I hear perfume rhythm of aroma, here

the rain beginning to fade away

the wet air remaining, to heat one maybe

I hear molecular rhythm of heat, here

the sun on its western way home

night insect begin to play in the tree

I hear night-time rhythm of wing rubbing, here

I am in the night, just me

they are out, or away far from the place

I hear whirring rhythm of the fan breeze, here

I ask a question.

Why, in the night, there might be a rainstorm again

I hear the atom rhythm of an empty brain, here

 I wait, but for what I might ask

in a night of nothing here for me

I hear the talking rhythm of me talking to me, again and again, here

I hear nothing here  

1 pm Terengganu garden

21/9/2012

By the rear, in the heat of Matahari, teaching through,

I’m watching one butterfly explore in a small flower ballet,

by a four prong purple leaf, crouching by the earth

a bee buzzes through the hot air

the stem of many a fluffy top wander in the breeze

that will scatter the seeds through the half-overgrown garden

By night, they will be gone;

the Malay grass-cutting chap is going to wage war…

a pity; I quite enjoy it that way;

it is beginning to clouding, a thunderstorm

on the horizon of descending temperature

Malay haiku

21/9/2012

1

Burung, anggerik

makan angin, menyanyi,

berhampiran ku…

2

Ku mahu tahu

kenapa cinta kini

ku tak mencari?

3

Tengok bintang jauh;

mereka menonton ku

kini di Bumi...