The sun paints the sky
with colours of curry
Best enjoyed with rice
...
We can't stop nightmares
when they come in our sleep
But may your thoughts of me
...
May the moon remind you of me
if you could see it tonight
for I'm writing
...
I couldn't remember when I first had you.
A newborn; yet to conceive
her own thoughts.
...
The rain falls, shedding its tears
to feed the trees; keeping flowers alive.
But why do you fall, you who are unwanted
...
Behind each of those glass doors
is a universe of their own.
The food is the planets;
...
George Town is my home.
I groan with my body
waking up each morning
...
There is a reason why autumn trees shed leaves
And there is a reason why those leaves are golden.
There is a reason why we can't keep things
...
There's nothing poetic about brokenhearted people.
Nothing sings for them.
No song, no wind, no shade or comfort.
...
As people appease the dead
offering food and joss-sticks
burning paper by the roadsides
...
On the first day we met again
we chose to chase the sunset
- only to miss it.
...
Wilson Khor W.H. is known for many things—zine poet and publisher; teacher, otaku, and an obvious oddball. His hobbies include eating, being annoying, and fooling around in writers' meetings. He has a bad habit of cracking the wrong jokes at the wrong time, as well as a notoriety for abusing long sentences, em dashes, and semi colons. Instagram: @wilson.khorwh E-mail: wilson.khorwh@gmail.com)
Dinner At An Indian Restaurant
The sun paints the sky
with colours of curry
Best enjoyed with rice
With fried bitter gourds,
Potatoes,
Mutton varuval,
And iced Bru coffee.