Young Writers Society

xvi. antiques;
Ode to Typewriters

Pushing your buttons has always been easy
Yet you never fault and stutter as we merge into one -
Confidently leading the way, leading my fingers into places
They have never delved before; your steadfastness melting my soul
Into cookie crumble over cream. Love,
The way you make sounds as we turn over a new page
Sends ecstasy cartwheeling on the nerves of my skin. It's sad
How the world will slowly replace your ethereal presence
With supposedly better objects of desire,
But know this: a thing of beauty is a joy for ever.

xv iii. sequels;
The Song of the Oceanids
Accompanying poem to solitary spiel (no. v)

See those waves rolling and shivering by?
Quiescent, their winged chariots await
Those who have forgotten the earth and skies,
An escort to lead them through whalebone gates.
Let seafoam bubbles and cooing seagulls
Soothe your weary soul, for its lullaby
Frees forlorn travellers on wooden hulls
Like you, who are tied to lost loves and wives.
Toss them wet pebbles away; though they might
Seem shiny and worthwhile. They are just sand
On this beach --- small boats that pass in the night.
Taste the salty sea spray on your cheek and
Set your mortal sorrows free. O tragic
Hero! Join us beneath the deep dark sea.


Put yourself to rest, my dear ---
The world is quieter here.

xix. green;
On A Dreary Royal Wedding Day

Thousands cheered as Kate and William kissed
On the Buckingham Palace balcony, and I
Was one of them. The plasma screen showing their
Undeniably luxurious wedding celebrations
Could not help but turn green once in a while.
A sigh slipped from my lips when I contemplated
On the fact while Kate Middletons and Grace Kellys
Can be real-life Cinderellas and have happily-ever-afters,
I can never wear Alexander McBride lace dresses
And stroll down red carpets with a real Prince Charming's arm
Wrapped around my waist. On that thought, I began calculating and
Found today's wedding will produce twelve times
the greenhouse gases Buckingham Palace would emit in a year.
I snorted, went back to drinking my cold tea and
Listened to the telly playing out the medleys of holy matrimony.

xx. sestina;
The Boy, the Lighthouse and Goodbyes

The vapid sun was just going to set
When Mama brought you to the lighthouse
Perched on rocks. It's the place of no return,
Where Hansel and that other girl
Must bid farewell to many bittersweet
Times that now are just a mashed blur

Of faces and places. Mama is, too, a blur
In cutting winds. Drunken trees set
By the shoreline and reposing sorbet-sweet
Clouds distract you from - "Me lighthouse
Is to be yer home now! Arr, here's me girl!"
Your supposedly captious uncle turns

To his daughter, your cousin who, by turns,
Her sea-salt coarse ringlets till they are blurs;
Shadows on the flushed cheeks of a young girl.
(You are no exception!) Deep-set
Eyes regard you, her room-mate at the lighthouse.
She bites her lips, an action so sweet

You swore you heard your clumsy heartbeat. "Sweet?"
The girl asks and you accept. In turn,
You start idle prattle about the lighthouse.
(To you, the conversation was a blur.)
Now, you have been the happiest since you set
Off without Mama, that poor, worthless girl.

Flip through the story of you and the girl,
Who asked you whether lighthouse tasted sweet
When you were watching another sun set,
This time a beacon for something new. Turning
Tables take time, though; and tears that blur
Everything stop you from loving the lighthouse

And its happy days. You knew the old lighthouse,
Though the home to your uncle and your girl,
Cannot hide crimes that feel like vivid blurs
(Fireworks on your skin) With a sweet
In your mouth, you pack all your things and turn
Around; to Mama your sail was now set.

Mama's lost; lighthouses taste bittersweet.
Years after, your girl is another blur - unexplained but not quite forgotten.
Once you are set on leaving, turning back is useless.

xxi. regency;
A Fair Maiden's Confession

opprobrium had not
lessened my resolve to
sail around the Earth.

assuaging simooms
at home, intrinsic to seas,
this is what I am.

(but not what I will be.)