Best Malacca Poems
Who Dares To Take This Life From Me,Knows No Better: Parts Three and FourIII
This is the land of the convectional rains
Which vie on the monsoon back scrubbing streets
This is the land at half-past four
The rainbow rubs the chilli face of the afternoon
And an evening-morning pervades the dripping, weeping
Rain tree, and gushing, tumbling, sewerless rain drains
Sub-cutaneously...
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Categories:
malacca, political, rain, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Getting Too OldGETTING TOO OLD
Her story told by old charts, scattered, water-drenched.
Portholes all broken, shaft and screw missing : a wreck ,
Grounded on concrete platform like an old man sitting on bench,
Battered funnel, broken hawsers, holes in...
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Categories:
malacca, adventure, life, nostalgia, old,
Form:
Quatrain
WrecksWRECKS
Battered funnel, broken hawsers, holes in deck,
Grounded on concrete platform like an old man sitting on bench,
Portholes all broken, shaft and screw missing : a wreck ,
Her story told by old charts, scattered, water-drenched.
Battered hat, torn trousers,...
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Categories:
malacca, adventure, nostalgia, peopleold, old,
Form:
Quatrain
The Last 4 Years and the Coming Decade 5Because some troubles and faults left by last administration, the incumbent can try to restore or redress. But for some other questionable moves beyond recantation, the incumbent can only conduct limited control on their irreversible tracks or bring petty patches to their honeycombed surfaces so...
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Categories:
malacca, america, international, introspection, political,
Form:
Prose
The Mystery of the Ss Ourang MedanIn 1947 in the Straits of Malacca near Indonesia
An old Dutch freighter the SS Ourang Medan
Sent a message out that the whole crew was dead
With the last message from the operator being, “I die”
An all-out effort was made to find the ship
And...
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Categories:
malacca, mystery, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Lingering FumesAn empty packet of Gauloises,
black coffee, a croque monsieur.
An aromatic café
breakfast in the Montmartre.
Later I switch to Camels,
a bumpy ride to seek out a friend
in the sixth arrondissement,
that night I left my Dunhill lighter
on her bedstand.
The cigarette lighter
had value,
I had haggled for it in Malacca,
eventually...
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Categories:
malacca, poetry,
Form:
Free verse