I Have

This is a rhyming poem/game you can recite/play with a child. :-)


I have a bone
This bone is mine
I have a watch
This watch is time

I have a dress
This dress is fine
I have a sneeze
And this sneeze is slime

I have a bag
This bag is Kline
I have a doll
And this doll is blind

I have a dustbin
This dustbin is grime
I have a mystery
And this mystery is crime


I have a picture
This picture is pretty
I have a sofa
And this sofa is dirty

I have a TV
This TV is pricey
I have a bear
And this bear is cutesy

I have a mouse pad
This mouse pad is Hello Kitty
I have a parrot
And this parrot is silly

I had a hamster
This hamster was cuddly
I have a stomach
And this stomach is hungry

- by TC Lai

Balloons They Were All, Once

I saw a cartoon the other day
That had a balloon talking
It got insecure and then shrunk
I thought how apt an action that was
Don't we all feel small one time or other?

It's when I realised the balloon a good metaphor
For Life, for whom we are
We too start out life flat....Nine months later
Our mommies' tummies are inflated
Like a balloon

That balloon then shrinks and here we are
Baby fat and all, like some tube balloon twisted
The same kind that clowns make animals out of
Only now, our parents have made them into us

And then we grow

Sometimes we stay level
Other times our ego inflate
Most times we see what we can only see
That high we can only float

It is only when we go higher
That we learn of other things
Our minds expand
Our vision become inclusive

Isn't that how one must grow?
Isn't that how a balloon must expand the higher it goes?

The knowledge that it fills itself
The environment that makes it so

Finally, the balloon rises too much and pops
We too grow old and die

The pieces of balloon fall to the ground
We are buried in the ground

But for the balloon, it probably made a child happy once
Who, in his glee, had let it go
How about that old man?
Did he have a child he once made happy
And let go?

Fathers and sons
Mothers and daughters
Balloons they were all, once

- by TC Lai

A Woman to Avoid

There's a kind of woman, all thinking men should avoid
The pretty, coy and acquiescent type

Her prettiness is nice to look at
But may not tell the whole story

Her coyness may seem adorable
But is actually social ineptness

Her acquiescence may be subservient
But could be unvoiced disagreement

That someday will come back to bite

Find a woman who's prettiness
Stems from a glow, a kind of disposition

Find a woman who's coyness
Means well from less than more

Find a woman who's acquiescence
Is actually an act of agreement, not surrender

That helps to move your lot along in life

A woman who has bandwidth
A woman who has intelligence
A woman whose judgement you can trust

A woman can be all that and yet
Be seemingly pretty, coy and acquiescent

A woman I once knew but now lost

- by TC Lai

What is Happening to Me?

What is happening to me?

I used to see a woman for what she is

Her intelligent eyes; her purposeful lips; and her curious nature

Now, my eyes seek out a svelte bottom; a fluted ankle; a perky breast

What is happening to me?

I know I don't love them less

I know I don't respect them less

I just seem to appreciate them in parts

What IS happening to me?

It does not seem to matter who

Whether she is smart, talkative or soulful; Or careless with her affections

I am drawn, like a man who loves his designer togs, furniture, and gadgets

For in them too exist many planes of beauty seen from near, far, and askew

Really, what is happening to me?

In the past, I would gladly hold on to a woman I could love for an eternity

If I could love her smile, her voice, her little gestures. I could overlook her less than perfect sum

A woman that I would cuddle on a rainy day, tease and doodle

What is happening to me?

That I am now content to wax lyrical of just her and her certain features

That I don't mind her being silent to me, clueless or blank

Has age turned, changed me?

To things just pretty and candy

What's happening to me?

Is this what Second Childhood is all about

Where once I was also taken by things pretty, perky, and sharp?

Of a time that's uncomplicated; that was happy; and yet, oh, so gratifying still?

A time of infatuation

What is happening to me?

That the scent of a woman could draw me along, float me along - drunk

Is it because I am old but young; old and still longing; seeking?

Or am I like a ill old man grasping at pills

A pill that's shaped like a svelte behind; a pill that's shaped like fluted bones

A pill that's shaped like cupped flesh

So that I may live again

What is happening to me?

That I seek such new and strange ways to love

- by TC Lai

I've Seen A Death

I walk up from the sea in clothes of weeds

A man sits by a rock

"And what wakes you," he asks

"And what idle thoughts bring you here," I reply

We look at each other for a while

Thinking familiar yet unknown thoughts

We pistol finger each other as if to say, "Touche."

He continues to smoke a cigar

And I continue to walk up the beach

An imprint. An imprint in the sand

A shadow that's not born of a shifting sun

Had I lain there for so long?

A woman comes and places a flower by it

She is in tears and full of kindness

"Someday," she says, "I will also be a shadow that's dead to time."

I scoop up a handful of sand and drop it on the figure

Where the mouth should be

The sand falls but never builds

Where does it go?

There is depth in darkness and I have just seen it

It should be strange but I am not surprised

The lady does not move nor seems to be affected

I am after all just a mess of weeds on the beach

How tall am I? I wonder

Why, just a moment ago....

I peek through the weeds and see shuttered light

The lady is also looming tall

Did I just shrink?

Water now washes over me and air bubbles away from my mouth

Then my lungs and other orifices

I struggle but entangle myself even more

And then I float and is washed ashore

The shadow that was there is a shadow no more

- by TC Lai

Trapped

I stand under a tree and a branch cracks my head.

I go to the hospital but catch something else.

I was healthy but now am very sick.

I lay in bed as my life ebbs away.

A priest comes to bless my soul.

I say, "Father, no need. There isn't a god in the world that can save me."

"But son," the priest says, "It's never too late."

The priest man, he doesn't under this sick man.

"It is not salvation I want," I whisper.

"It's simply the medicine that I need."

The priest he hears but still prays.

The nurses stand by just in case.

A girlfriend stands and watches.

"Wait," I say to her. "Aren't you dead?"

A nurse turns to stare but her look is blank.

My girlfriend speaks and her voice is missed.

"It's not your time yet. All will be well."

She turns and walks away.

A bright light and all is normal again.

My heart is weak and stops.

A nearby machine wakes and screams.

An alarm has gone off.

The nurses rush over; the doctors rush over.

They pump me with syringes, fire me with shocks.

I see all this but is not afraid. Not when one is floating and detached.

But soon I am sucked back in.

I choke and wake and grip my bed.

So, that's what it is like to die, even for a few seconds.

Slowly the pain ebbs; slowly the days pass.

I get better and leaves the hospital.

I stand under a tree and an egg drops.

The egg cracks and a life ebbs....even before it has begun.

But I am alive and yet a life I have not.

When, I ask, are you going to start?

I walk away from the tree and a car cracks my leg.

I go to the hospital.....

- by TC Lai

Bread

What is it about fresh bread, baked
that is so invigorating

That will move even a dying man's head.

To bear it up for a last sniff of life
A life once lived, a life again relived

But for a fleeting moment.

Bread, the bearer of smiles
To the living, to the about-dying

Always fresh, always the best.

Ah, bread my mom used to bake
Bread my neighbour used to sell

Bread I used to share, fight over

Bread I had used as communion
during a wedding ceremony

So long ago. A love so fresh

A bread of happy times
A bread of hungry times

A bread of innocent times

Bread. Break. Broken.
A dying man drops his head

A pain is gone, a smile remains

- by TC Lai