john tiong chunghoo Poems

The fog descends
in the wee hours of dawn
like a sacred thing
...

the paper is a stage
for mind to act out
its dreams, draw
people to the possible
...

i wish to be
in a sail boat
in a rough sea
where every corner
...

angkor temple visit
i am a time machine
shuttling between
structures lost in time
...

let me be that poem
that witnesses your
secret yearning as
your glance falls
...

some words, some elaborate words
they have not acquired a life
in my system, so they shall not have
the chance to grace my humble stage - the page
...

white paper

a girl bidding
for real love
...

boredom
is a man
who married
the wrong woman
...

heart to heart talk -

'oh god when
can we have a break
...

when the afternoon rain has ended
and the breeze turns the trees into
a riotious moment of cheer and joy
...