Kuala Dungun

there, Seberang, south China sea,
wave breaking beach, wind sweeping tree

buoy, men, boat,
net, rope, float
estuary, Kuala Dungun

Malay girls, multicoloured skirts,
sarong fishermen, old rag shirt
mango, lime, fish,
prawn, slime
market, Kuala Dungun

sewing girls, hot gas fire,
squeaky trishaw, hissing tyre
talk, laugh, moan,
coins, car, phone
sounds of Kuala Dungun

Chinese school, brick grill bank,
terrace shops, peeling plank
paint, gold, book,
hardware, hook
buildings, Kuala Dungun

iron mountain, inland road,
mining men ate up the lode
train, ship, ore,
money awe
back time, Kuala Dungun

muggy, sweaty coffee shop,
wet cold marble table top
smoke, soup, mee,
toast, egg, tea
breakfast, Kuala Dungun

roast chopped duck, rich plum sauce,
tau fu, yam cake, rice, main course
bream from sea,
Chinese tea
cuisine, Kuala Dungun

waves crash sand, winds blow strong,
warm air muffles Chinese song
feel alone,
old dogs groan
night time, Kuala Dungun

techno-Kerteh, petro-breeze,
airstrip, tower, fencing, trees
bags packed go,
tears will flow
goodbye, Kuala Dungun

coast horizon, eastward look,
technician, salesman, oil rig cook /
Fokker low,
lights aglow
no more, Kuala Dungun

parking now, shrieking whine,
aircraft turn, air cut fine
rotors slow,
time to go
feeling, Kuala Dungun

seat belt click, crew of four,
airframe tremble, engines roar
runway rush,
airborne hush
thinking, Kuala Dungun

Mooncake beach

1130pm 14 September 2000
Moon Cake Festival, Kwang Hwa Primary School, Kuala Dungun

once more around the Moon Cake came
to a windswept school on an eastern beach
but, for me, it was much the same
with emotions yet again out of reach

the parents chatter, gossip, smile,
when round the court they wait for free
evening entertainment trial
and it was here I met Marie

and there, to my complete surprise,
she shook my hand unshakingly
and held on to it, making me surmise
that she really was quite keen on me

coloured bulbs wash every tree
children running here and there
microphone cacophony
of raucous female shredding air

boring speeches start the night
no one listens to the farce
Your Honour, try to polite
I really wish the time would pass

first, children town trek, lanterns glow
this the highlight of the night
then, a less than teenage fashion show
costumes, music, tacky, trite

schoolgirl models now in full swing
get up from chair, and try to peer
but not at young mascara thing
interesting to me is Marie’s nice rear

then, in the course of my thrilling night,
I trek the basketball arena where
I meet a woman, her jeans cut tight,
tall, clean looking, with long tied hair

I didn’t pay, so not too sure
the exact price of the entrance fee
but to keep the fangs from stomach door
we get a plastic bag of nibbles, free

and, as have had no dinner, now half past nine
try a crispy salt tomato snack
that makes my mouth taste of sun bleached brine
must drink tasteless winter melon pack

then big lady mother, small girl in tow
offers me one more packet drink
loving mother, thank you, not now no
smile, and try hard not to think

acrid smell of candle smoke
with plastic bottles burning too
children think that it’s a joke
hoping night is never through

the music sends my mind outside
to a European concert hall,
then cricket, where I thump a wide
my century off a four run ball

the moon now much higher in the sky
the light glazing on the watching sea
allowing me to reflect on why
my hand was taken by Marie

once more around the Moon Cake came
with emotions yet again out of reach
but, for me, it was much the same
in a windswept school on an eastern beach

Rock painting

2005

Here, in the cave, I struggle to take care of the offspring;
You expect me to feed them on your ‘wild’ chicken wing?

Rubbish. You tether them to a nearby tree.
Two minutes to get their meat. Don’t lie to me.

Get out, you lazy man, and find food we can eat.
Get us fresh ostrich eggs, gazelle, or zebra meat.
I want something tender, I can chew.

We are sick of eating leaf, nut, and root pâté.
You call that an excuse? You keep chipping away.
I hope a cheetah will eat you.

Other men get out and hunt. You spend your time tainting
the home with foolish matchstick-men painting.
It’s horrible, kitsch.

You think art on a rock can bring food on the plate?
Get out; get food, before I use your ear for bait.
You’re horrible, bitch.

It’s Africa, you fool; of course it’s hot. Then wait for the rain.
I told you to get a place in the highlands. You have no brain.
I don’t have enough money.

Even a mother hyena gets to eat meat and bone marrow.
They manage to get it without a bow and arrow.
Get us some fresh honey.

No, I won’t. I require it here. You make your own knife.
None of the other men would dream of asking their wife.
How can you think you are a man? You think you are an artist? You are so weak.

Other husbands bring food. Where is mine?
Go and get. Or I’ll throw you to the porcupine.
How can you think you are a woman? I hope you get caught in the vulture’s beak.

You can’t. Animals are too alert to be caught in a trap.
You would not recall where they were; you can’t read a map.

That’s not important. I can watch the sky at night.
The fool thinks he is a Polynesian. His brain’s not right.

You cannot be serious; that would be cheating.
They are our neighbours. What would the family be eating?

No, you go out, like a man, and get me something to eat.
No, a lion won’t bother you. You’re too thin, no meat.

The woman goes on as if she were in a market place.
With one like this, there’s no future for the human race.

Are you muttering about your problems again?
Nothing, light of the grasslands and foothills, just thinking about when it will rain.

Get out, useless fellow. Take that and your paintbrush too.
You might become famous? Next time people are going to know about you?

New computer haiku / Haiku of Why, Wye, Y

abc, z, op
insert, enter, tab, up, break
m, z, q, p, home

Why, I write tonight

Wye, I think stone bridge, oxbow

Y, penultimate