Offerings
and now nothing remains
save the perfumed
memories
that hang uneasy
on leaves of frangipani
belated drops
of swelling rain
burning
for the laps
of a tranquil sea
someday
when dewdrops bloom
into flowers
among the wind-blown
offerings
i'll find my way
to the temple
of your altars.
Ghulam-Sarwar Yousof
Land-Turtle
A land-turtle: the fine gold trachery
He drags about, webbing his green belly
And turn to every giant child and dog
A hard back like a mud-spalshed chip of log.
Crawling to no place particular, taking
His time, to his particular undeflcting
Desire. And if you must meddle with his
Travles, the bright little face dissapears
In comic alarm; some say modesty,
Though I have thought i had caught in his button eyes
A dismissal too uncomfortably like contempt.
Shirley Lim
A Quarrel between Night and Day
night proposed to day
i'll take twelve hours
and you take twelve hours
day had to accept it
for there was no alternative
or night will take twenty four
hours of fear of dream-thoghts
fastening us to deep darkness forever
but night cannot be trusted
it wanted the stars, moon and
all the citylights
leaving only
the sun and one stray star
astray in early daylight
while they laughs at the wet sun
that is why i fear the night
always bringing dream-thoughts
making one hungry in the chest
the next morning,
a bad prelude to a working day
with only one forty minute break
Omar Mohd. Noor
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