Among the homework we had to do for The Leaky Pot are the four poems I’d written based on the form of a sonnet:



The sky was like a big blue bowl,

completely cloudless,

as if trying to make up for the days of rain.

A chilly breeze tinged with the smell of fuel

in the air, not freshness.

The birds – back and forth they’re calling.


To die from fright while flipping and screaming

in terror –

Beyond numbness –

Lost in the fog of trepidation.

Her heart might explode into the blooming

large mushroom,

Her fear, groundless,

violent and rapid, in a blurred expression.



The Smartphone


Like ancestral tablets they are held in awe,

like esteemed religious disciples they appear humble.

Head lowered and eyes glued into a bundle,

oblivious of other’s presence, I gradually fall

with my dreams and hopes, my emotions and soul,

to a place that is real yet bottomless.

In control of monsters alien and treacherous,

oblivious of others in a world that is wonderful –

an amazing invention that holds information,

streaming limitless in a confined space,

chasing away silence, loneliness and boredom.

In a world smart beyond our imagination,

where everything has become a race.

The world is confusing when we’re awaken.





Alone you’ll never be

if new friends you anoint

if hobbies or book clubs you join

if community centres you boogie-woogie

if your friends and relatives are friendly

if you talk with people like your neighbours

if you do voluntary work or play peacemaker

but you may still be lonely.

You may be alone

if you love keeping a pet

if you use a computer silently

if you visit the library for a loan

if you read a book in bed

but you’ll never be lonely.





The maple leaves in Autumn lends a pensive mood,

The lovely leaves in different hues appear to transmute,

The seasons come and go – each will pass and return.

Flowers bloom in season and petals fall off season.

Life is like the four seasons on a retreat,

Time can never catch up with the sunshine and rainfall.

Winds change directions; tides rise and fall.

Leaves scatter when wind blows; currents fierce when storms are great.

The weeping shores, the howling seas and the

thief in the night mean there’s no turning back the clock though

Life flashes past like ricochet.

Night comes after day, things restart but remain a crow –

time has quickly slipped away.



As stipulated, I paid attention to the use of images/metaphor, where the poem makes the least sense, the rhyme and the meter (and to what end) and what the line breaks achieve.



The Recluse



Skin rougher than the moon’s surface

Like a walking reptile

He moved forward in great earnest

With expression hostile

His blasphemy were depressive

And disillusion fertile

He’d not with others reconcile

Deeming it recessive

Paranoid and embittered

Unreasonable and cancourous

He needed psychiatric help

Never had he considered

Others becoming acrimonious

Due to tensions unparalleled.


* This poem was written as part of the homework for the second session of The Leaky Pot workshops.

An Unusual Reunion



A rare opportunity

For a meeting

Of three cousins who

Lost touch five decades ago,

Trying to catch up

On their childhood, adolescent years,

Adulthood and early parenthood.

Dumbfounded and shocked

More than mere surprise

By news of a suicide

Of a teenage gay cousin.

Devastated but

Discriminating and unwilling

To acknowledge

A lesbian daughter,

The parents’ anguish

Was complete with finding

Their youngest (two)

A transgender and a bisexual.


This poem is part of the homework for the workshop called ‘The Leaky Pot’. The underlined words are taken from a piece of Free Writing done during the first session. Disclaimer: I was not able to include any METAPHOR (though preferred). Other comments from the trainer include: it is a sad/bad situation; poem is pure content; it could have been a prose piece or short paragraph.

We were supposed to talk about the writing process, but perhaps due to time constraints we did not do so. I had made notes on how I came up with the structure and how I perceived the form arising from the rhythm. (RHYTHM in poetry will be covered in Session 3.)

Santa Claus Day



Today’s the day – 6th December –

Noted as Santa Claus Day,

The anniversary

Of Saint Nicholas’ death.


Portrayed as a white-bearded man,

Santa Claus is dressed in red,

Bearing gifts and bringing joy,

Peace and harmony.


A holiday emphasizing

Friendship, fun and fellowship;

Like the Amigos who

Talk, listen, laugh and joke.


In a world that’s rather insane,

Good friends are doubly precious

Gifts that are most treasured,

Prized, loved and cherished.


No One Dies Alone



A dedicated friend,

A loving companion,

She was at the bedside

Till the very end.

A listening ear,

A hand to hold;

A lot of sacrifice

Beyond the final hours.

The rapid deterioration

Made speech incoherent,

The weakening muscles

Made writing impossible.

Struggling to breathe her last

But comfortable and assured;

The soul floats to heaven

Resting in Eternal Life.

Morning Has Broken



Her favourite hymn,

A beautiful song;

Morning has broken,

Hers is the morning.

So independent

And tenacious;

So confident

And positive.

Even when wrecked with pain,

In spirit she struggled and fought

But the body gave up.

She never regained her strength.

Her Legacy


Quivering shoulders and silent tears,

Sniffling, sobbing, weeping and heart-wrenching cries

From family and friends gathered,

Are testament to how much she’s loved

A filial daughter, a loving sister and aunt,

A good friend, truthful and courageous,

An avid reader and meticulous writer

With an unfinished manuscript.

She thought she would still have time,

Not expecting the deterioration to be so swift;

Her memoir will be published posthumously:

It is her legacy to her beloved niece.




Why do words fail me

When I need them to express

The sadness that I feel?

How do I explain

That Rachmaninoff

Springs to my mind instead?

Especially his Second Piano Concerto

And the Eighteenth Variation

Of his Paganini Rhapsody.

How do I tell her

That I’ll miss her terribly,

That her absence is keenly felt?

We were supposed to watch

Lang Lang LIVE last November

But he was out of commission.

Will I feel her next to me

When I attend Lang Lang’s concert

The next time he comes by?