Monday, July 10, 2006
And this was what I was doing in Mr Smith's lesson today:
Hospital Avenue
Down Hospital Avenue, 3 in the morning.
Dawn's not here, trees block the view
of silent, burning stars, flickering
In skies, wards, hearts and minds.
My feet in silent communion with the road,
orange and black of light and shadow,
tiger's twisted parody. It is loud here,
where there is no sound, but silence
Oppressive.
The remains of day linger, artificial
Lighting the shadows afire. Eyes closed,
one can imagine it is noon again,
save for the lack of the sun's burning heat
on paled bronze skin, roughed out smooth.
My heart beats to unseen time, peculiarly synchronised
with muffled footfalls on fallen leaves. The mind is silent,
numbed in heated cold, chilled shivers running in sweaty trails,
down the face and body. Soul's awake, in the shadow of illness
Recovered and ailing.
A familiar road, this one
Down 3rd Hospital Avenue.
Legs tread memory's path, tentative.
Wary of knocking on the proverbial door,
to forgotten emotions, faded recollections.
The mind remains quiet, there is no need to speak.
My legs do the thinking, scaling rocky peaks,
in the thorny path to realisation.
My soul resonates with sickness suffering, aura radiated
From the outline of Ward 76.
All's asleep at 3 in the morning, as am I.
My body moves on its own volition
Addressing causes the mind dismisses
Coming to terms in the day of night
Wounds unsealing from crude bandages
The hospital cannot bind in its expertise.
The door remains open, there is no door
To close on grief's lobby.
I walk out of the medical shroud
Out into artificial dawn
Back down 3rd Hospital Avenue
Into a future memory. Unresolved.
=============================================
Have I mentioned that I really love Boey Kim Cheng's work? The style in this poem came from reading his poems, which I find really reverbrated with my own consciousness.
And yes, I did walk down 3rd Hospital Avenue, not at 3 in the morning, more like 10 at night. The significance of the number 3...well...other than 3rd Hospital Avenue, my mom died in bed 3 of ward 76. And that is all I need to say of this matter.
Ciao.
]
Hospital Avenue
Down Hospital Avenue, 3 in the morning.
Dawn's not here, trees block the view
of silent, burning stars, flickering
In skies, wards, hearts and minds.
My feet in silent communion with the road,
orange and black of light and shadow,
tiger's twisted parody. It is loud here,
where there is no sound, but silence
Oppressive.
The remains of day linger, artificial
Lighting the shadows afire. Eyes closed,
one can imagine it is noon again,
save for the lack of the sun's burning heat
on paled bronze skin, roughed out smooth.
My heart beats to unseen time, peculiarly synchronised
with muffled footfalls on fallen leaves. The mind is silent,
numbed in heated cold, chilled shivers running in sweaty trails,
down the face and body. Soul's awake, in the shadow of illness
Recovered and ailing.
A familiar road, this one
Down 3rd Hospital Avenue.
Legs tread memory's path, tentative.
Wary of knocking on the proverbial door,
to forgotten emotions, faded recollections.
The mind remains quiet, there is no need to speak.
My legs do the thinking, scaling rocky peaks,
in the thorny path to realisation.
My soul resonates with sickness suffering, aura radiated
From the outline of Ward 76.
All's asleep at 3 in the morning, as am I.
My body moves on its own volition
Addressing causes the mind dismisses
Coming to terms in the day of night
Wounds unsealing from crude bandages
The hospital cannot bind in its expertise.
The door remains open, there is no door
To close on grief's lobby.
I walk out of the medical shroud
Out into artificial dawn
Back down 3rd Hospital Avenue
Into a future memory. Unresolved.
=============================================
Have I mentioned that I really love Boey Kim Cheng's work? The style in this poem came from reading his poems, which I find really reverbrated with my own consciousness.
And yes, I did walk down 3rd Hospital Avenue, not at 3 in the morning, more like 10 at night. The significance of the number 3...well...other than 3rd Hospital Avenue, my mom died in bed 3 of ward 76. And that is all I need to say of this matter.
Ciao.
Comments:
Post a Comment
