john tiong chunghoo

(Jan 21,1960 / NEW YORK)

When I was Young


when i was a child
the world was
full of poetry
played to me

the dragonfly
was so red
her tail glowed

in all the quiet
of her realm
she would dip
her tail into a stream
again and again
in fast sequence
for fun i thought

and when she glided
above a field
with her friends
they reminded me of
fighter planes

the river, always
clear and swift
serenaded a tinkling
heartfelt song
below the clear blue sky
as it hurried out to sea

the fish jumped and
swished their tail
like conductors

till this day the
song the river sang
plays itself in
in my heart, in my soul
whenever it flows
through my memory
- the river which is
nowhere to be seen now

mom's chicks,
they were
always beige and spotted
and grew up
to shine in
dark brown and black
with a greenish sheen

they crowed so loudly
every morning was a
raging contest to see
who could get the sun
out to light up the world

the hens they were
always with their chirping
little chicks in the field
looking for worms
protective like the
fiercest mothers

but they soon turned
into witches pecking
at their grown up chicks
to get them to fend
for themselves

poor chicks, they would
run back only to be pecked
run back only to be pecked
and really learnt it the hard way
to live and fend for themselves

(to be continued)

Submitted: Thursday, January 25, 2007
Edited: Tuesday, January 04, 2011
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