Latest 5 Poems of Boon Ang
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(5/18/2010 2:47:00 AM)
I address you, old grandfather,
You who drove past me, a day hence.
I gazed upon your crown of white,
Your grizzled countenance, grim determination
In the grip of your jaw, the tighter grip of your hands
Upon the steering wheel, as you ploughed the road
In that green gray Corolla, unwashed paintwork peeling,
Number plate announcing its vintage, a fifteen year old
Carrying a sixty year old-I'm guessing here, you could be older-
Still full of fire both it seems, your attempts to pass me
On the inside thwarted by circumstances beyond your control-
And the minivan 'hogging' that lane.
I was amazed, to say the least, to see such life in an old man.
I guess you wouldn't be sitting in the park too often,
Smelling roses is not your game, and certainly not
The gentle sipping of Earl Gray by the Koi pond.
Strolling will bore you, I can tell, seeing how you
Swerved from left to right, and back again
Looking for that spot, that gap which you
deemed existed between my car and the curb,
And that glare you gave me, when eventually you past,
As I edged into the inner lane for you,
Your eyes were full of youthful fire, and
That signal you flashed me, the one no one
Will misunderstand, anywhere in the world.
I think it's called 'the middle finger'.
(5/14/2010 4:03:00 AM)
I'd like to recommend a book for lovers and students of poetry.
It's 'How to read a poem and fall in love with poetry' by Edward Hirsch.
In it he explores the various ways poetry matters and how we should approach poems in order to gain the most from our readings.
Using beautiful poems from both past and present as examples, he expounds the importance poetry plays, or should play, in our lives.
It's a fascinating read, and one book I'd always come back to again and again.
(5/12/2010 8:57:00 PM)
It is certainly not a crime
If your poems do not rhyme
As a matter of fact it's now thought
It may be better if they not
Unless they come without haste
And fall naturally into place
It is neater, there's no doubt
Simply just to leave them out
Iambic meter or otherwise
Not rhyming is never a vice
It may even be seen as awkward
Unless employed in a formal sonnet
Especially if you try to force them in
Although that's not exactly a sin
The present participle is just too much
If used repeatedly as a crutch
Vers Libre is the way to go
As most current poets know
Don't get caught up in the past
Write yours modern, make them last