Reciprocation

Dear all,

How can I not reply to such a great compliment on my *wicked sense of humor by my junior *starry? After a blog dedicated to *advertise my blog or rather (and more importantly, the poets/poems), yours truly feel compelled to response in kind.

*Starry has a nice blog, it’s so nice that even yours truly cold hearted bitch wanna be that I am, bothers to read it everyday (ok ok, at least once every two days). This is a blog that is the rare few that your truly can tolerate and even say with good conscience that I like. This is not always the case with most blog. *nod head solemnly*

Here’s the link. http://junoesque.blogspot.com/

***

To *Starry, you’re always welcome.

***

To *all (not that I think anyone else except some really select minority (read: strange & odd) reads my blog), poems listed here are some of my likes, there are more if yours truly ever gets into the mood to share.

If you hate the poems listed here, we’re obviously not of the same karmic plane, feel free to never visit again. *snorts*

Yours truly truly doesn’t mind.

So there.

Poems, I like

:::

WENDY COPE

Valentine
My heart has made its mind up
And I'm afraid it's you.
Whatever you've got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up
And if you can't be signed up
This year, next year will do.
My heart has made its mind up
And I'm afraid it's you.
Giving Up Smoking
There's not a Shakespeare sonnet
Or a Beethoven quartet
That's easier to like than you
Or harder to forget.
You think that sounds extravagant?
I haven't finished yet-
I like you more than I would like
To have a cigarette.
Bloody Men
Bloody men are like bloody buses-
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
Kindness to Animals
If I were a vegetarian.
And didn't eat lambs for dinner,
I think I'd be a better person
And also thinner.
But the lamb is not endangered
And at least I can truthfully say
I have never, ever eaten a barn owl,
So perhaps I am OK.

***

SARAH TEASDALE

I am Not Yours
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

***

WALLFLOWER aka *S

Virgin Terrain

these fingers are bold

these hands gentle

they paint landscape

explore topography

fingers that lovingly outline each contour

hands that tenderly sculpt every surface

fingers that patiently trace each hill

hands that delicately refine every peak

fingers that painstakingly unearth each valley

hands that thoroughly reveal every secret

they create and compose

they paint and draw

very gently, very boldly

going where no man has gone before

Fairytale

Blame it on the fairytales –

I am waiting to be rescued,

I want to be saved!

In case my rescuer –

Tall, dark, dangerous

And gorgeous –

Should miss me;

In case whoever it is

Should not be able to

Recognize me,

Damsel in Distress,

I’ve rented a siren-red cape

(good thing red’s my color)

And will be wearing one

Glass slipper

(it’s really made of clear PVC –

you’ve no idea how difficult it is

to find glass slippers in the stores

these days).

It might be awhile before my hair

Grows to a Guinness Book of World Record length, but that’s

Not a problem;

I’ve got all the time in the world

To let it grow out –

After I prick myself with this

Spindle

(found it at an antique shop –

had to spend some time bargaining the price down

but it’s worth it),

And take a bite out of this

Poisoned apple

(it’s not really poisoned –

I’m not that dumb –

I’ve merely coated it with

A bottle of crushed

Sleeping pills).

All right, so here I go …

Yucks!(Note to Self:

Pills are bitter –

Mix a little sugar

In it next time.)

What?

What’s that you’re saying about

Rip Va …

***

Actually, there are still tons of poems that I like but I shan't overload too much in one shot (actually, I'm getting tired & lazy to type/copy & paste more). So until next time...

Btw, I promise to write an intro of *Wallflower to this blog soon *cross fingers*...but until then, enjoy her poems. PS: All copyrights to the poems belong to the poet.

PLEASE DO NOT EVEN ATTEMPT TO COPY OR PASS THEM OFF AS YOURS!

who would believe you anyway? *archly*

Doormat

I.
What’s always beneath
Possibly clean and fluffy
Possibly dirty and scruffy?

What’s crushed beneath the heels
Always under
Never above?

What’s airing in the warm breeze
Or hidden in the drawers
Smelling naturally warm or musky?

What’s always unappreciated
Possibly forgotten
But always endearing?

BINGO.

A doormat

A doormat to crush and step on
A doormat for the warmth of heels

A doormat overlooked
But always remembered by the heels.


II.
Fluffy and warm
Dirty and scruffy

Low and crushable
Endearing and strong

Perhaps a doormat in making
But a survivor in action.

Kel. 21 November 2004.


Dear *doormat

I hope you are pleased. It is not everyday and everyone who can demand a blog from cold hearted me. Please prostrate in eternal gratitude.

From yours truly
Me.

***

Ah. The wonders of a nice fluffy thick doormat. Ok, basically, *doormat has childishly demanded to be named and written in yours truly blog. Why? I have no idea. *shrug*

But as yours truly is in a denial mood aka would do anything except study for my exams on Tues, yours truly decided to indulge *doormat with a brief mention.

Yes, this is really brief and completely without substance (not that much of yours truly blog has much either) and of cos, it completely does not tell one anything about *doormat.

Yes, yours truly could mention that *doormat is currently teaching in Japan, currently resisting temptations in the form of 15 years old good looking high school kids, currently in swings of cheerfulness and moodiness with a dash of occasional whining and self-pitying, etc, but do you really want to know all that?

Yes? Really? People are so weird. *arched brows*

Well, too bad, yours truly has a limit to indulging others, and she has just reached the end of the quota for today. Please try again in the next hundred odd years or so.

Adieu.

***

"Ode from a Doormat

You may think I'm so low, that I don't matter, that I am crushable and beneath you, but consider how I work. Consider how I have survived. I take your dirt, but I am not your dirt. Yes, you wipe your heels on me, and because you do, I know nearly everything about you, where you've been, what you're likely to do next.

You don't value me, it's true. But does that mean I have no value? Perhaps I get along best allowing you to believe what you want to believe, think you are above me, superior, in charge. Are you though? When you are dust, your dust will find a place on me as well. On me, not in me.

Maybe this is not the life for you. But it is a life, believe it or not. It may not be your life. It may terrify you. I sense your fear, through your soles. I can tellyou are wearing out… just look at those scuff marks. But what would it accomplish to say anything about that?

We doormats know how and why we keep our counsel. Doormat confessionals are few and far between, and when they come, they often reveal far less about the doormat than about those who've walked on or over us. We doormats are a private sort of folk. Why would we be otherwise? "

(http://home.earthlink.net/~derdriu/doormat.htm)

Breakfast in Bed & Comfy Conversations

I Like

Warm fuzzy feeling
Lazy afternoons
Lazing around
I like

Slowing down
Slumbering
Wine and conversation
I like

Reading together
Comfy companions
Easy talking
I like

Breakfasts in bed
Free lunches
Rose teas
I like

I like so many
So much
So simple

But really
I like

You.

Kel. 10 November 2004

Yours truly had a wonderful night & morning & afternoon. Please, no snide remarks about the night and who I spent it with. Get your mind of the gutter, please. Yours truly had a slumber party with my junior (read: female and we’re both straight) and it was a really simple one. No fancy dinner or exciting plans. It was just us in junior’s requested uniform of pajamas bottom & t-shirt (dun ask me why not the whole pajamas, I didn’t set the rules…it’s her place….*shrug*), conversation, a bottle of white wine, marshmallows (what’s a slumber party without it?)…it was nice fun. Slow, comfy and lazing fun. I think that the mark of a friendship? It’s comfortable and conversation follows without really talking about anything in particular? Of cos, we did attempt to study somewhat, but I must admit, we failed spectacularly. But hey, that shows more than anything, me and junior are comfortable together? *grin* I know I know, I’m justifying myself, so what? Sue me. *archly* Anyway, the point of this is, yours truly had a great time, my junior had a nice room (neat and tidy *whistles*). She had nice cup and saucer; she served me breakfast in bed with rose tea. What more can a gal asks for? *grin*

That was the great night & morning. Lunch I spent with my professor, *Nice. Yes, got a free lunch treat. How nice. *grin* But it was nice easy conversation. Poor *Nice is overworked and busy at the moment. But we had a nice session of gossiping about people we know. Reminiscing about past modules and criticizing the PS department. *grin* Such delicious fun. *stick tongue out* Yes, yes, yours truly is overly harsh on the department, but why should I be nice when they aren’t very nice anyway? Besides, they are stuffy and conservatively….not a good combination…

Isn’t it sad that varsity is so dependent on the whims of our professors? Imagine the internal rivalry, the political dynamics and how one’s grades are not necessarily the reflection of one’s ability but one’s relationship with the professors? I’m not saying all professors are biased but that rare are the ones that are truly impartial. But perhaps, yours truly is being too harsh? Perhaps it is human to judge and human to take sides? Perhaps it is essentially very human to judge and always to find others wanting without reflecting and judging oneself?

I hope not.

But perhaps, it is so?

Yet if this is the case, perhaps yours truly should preach forgiveness and compassion? But I think not. I would rather not. In fact, I vehemently refuse to. Can you imagine bitchy sheer preaching forgiveness? *grimace* Please, don’t even attempt to think about it. Sheer is not and will never be a candidate for saintly forgiveness. Yours truly would go for evil bitch any day. Thank you very much.

Essentially, the good gives justice, the bad invents mercy. Yours truly is neither good nor bad. I just say what I think, do what I should. If I’m harsh along the way, at least I don’t demand that others be thankful for my harshness. At least I don’t ask others to be less harsh to me.
In other words, yours truly upholds the same measure to judge myself and others. No double standards.

In that sense, perhaps it is human to judge and find wanting. That is not the problem. The problem is, dear frens, to judge only others and never oneself.

I don’t. At least, I try not to.

Do you?

Conversation with Cousin

Kids are selfish because they are kids. But does that give them the right to hurt so unintentionally? More to the point, does that give me the right to show my claws? *archly*

Conversation with Cousins, Age 8 & 9
Two cousins giggle
Me: What?
Cousin A: Cousin B says you’re fat.
Cousin B: Yes, why are you so fat?

Tell me, dear friends, what should I reply to that? I mean, yes, yes, yours truly is fat *sulk* but that doesn’t mean I want people to keep telling me that to my face? And trust me, they have said so much too often for my ego. *roll eyes* Believe me, usually yours truly doesn’t have a problem insulting people who insult me or even giving a cheeky reply in response, but when it’s my 8 year old cousins and telling me so bluntly to my face, what can I do? I can’t put her down yet, I can’t deny that I was hurt by it. Yours truly doesn’t have a problem with self image, yes, I should be much slimmer than I am, yes, I am overweight, but yours truly doesn’t have a hang up over it. Just because I don’t fit today’s standards of reed thin women, doesn’t mean there is something wrong with me, right? Think about it, in traditional ancient China, I’ll be considered beautiful aka think Yang Gui Fei. Besides, I still don’t have much problems buying clothes. What is it about a kid that can make me self-conscious about myself? More to the point, does that mean that yours truly need a greater ego, or worse, thicker skin?

Perhaps, the sensible way would be for me to avoid my cousins? Perhaps I should never volunteer to bring the 2 brats out anymore?

Btw, did I mention that I was, or still is, their favorite cousin, to the point that they wished I was their elder sister?

Amazing, huh? I bring them out for a fantastic day, spending way too much of my pittance of a salary on them, and I feel sucky after spending time with them….Somewhere, someone must hate me. *arched brows*


Another Conversation with Cousin B, Age 9
Cousin: do you have a B?
Me: A B?
Cousin: (whispers) boyfriend.
Me: Oh. No.
Cousin: But why? You’re so old. Everyone so old should have Bs.
Me: Huh? That’s not true
Cousin: Yes, it is. (with all the certainty of a kid) You should have a B as you’re so old. And anybody who reaches 23 or 25, must have Bs.
Me: Oh…so you mean if I don’t have a B, I’m not considered 23?
Cousin: Yes. You are already so old, you should get a B.

Tell me, where does it says anywhere that at 23 yours truly must have a B? And since when are our kid cousins allowed to inquire over our personal love life? Most of all, when did yours truly reach an oh-so-advanced age without knowing? I didn’t know that at 23, I’m already qualified to be labeled as old. *grimace* On a sudden irrational impulse, (it’s irrational since yours truly knows well enough that one does not argue with a 9 year old kid who doesn’t know much) but still, I had the sudden urge to go out and get myself a B, just so that I can show my cousin that I’m normal (and yours truly is never one to uphold the virtues of normalcy, read: boring) , or better still, just get a guy friend to pretend to be my B so I can shut her up and also not have to live with the consequences of getting a B on an impulse. But then again, what does that really prove?

Besides, it is wrong that I’m waiting for my THE ONE? Should I have just settled for guys along the way who I didn’t feel that special spark?

Call me fool if you will, but

I think not.

I believe that if we are meant to be, heavens above would give me you.

That Someone

I.
I want to find the guy of my dreams
I want to find someone to love
I want my grand passion
I want it so much that it hurt

My heart believes that he is out there
My heart believes that we are meant to be
My heart believes in this one single person
My heart believes so much that it is unreal

I want it so
I believe it so
So much
That it is frightening

II.
Where is that someone
Where is my promise of a grand passion
Where is the guy for me

Perhaps
Only in my dreams

Perhaps
Only in my make believe

Perhaps
Only in my heart

Perhaps
Only perhaps.

III.
Are you looking for someone of your dreams
Are you also searching for that instant spark
That silken link
That silver tie

Are you perhaps out there waiting
Are you perhaps out there looking
Are you perhaps believing in me

Are you out there
Waiting
For me.

IV.
I believe
My heart believes
There can only be one
One unique individual
Who quickens my heartbeat

Do you believe so
Do you believe in me
The way I do
The way I really do
Believe in

You.

Kel. 26 October 2004.