Poems reflect the state of mind. They show what's dwelling in the mind of its writer when he/she was writing it, and that thought could be an inherent part of the person or just in passing.
Style also is very personal. If not influenced by anything, one's default style is distinctive, giving, perhaps, an insight into how the person thinks.
A good poem, I feel, flows smoothly from line to line and thought to thought. The words don't have to rhyme, but the words should harmonise with one another and roll deliciously in your mind like chocolate in your mouth as you read them aloud in your head.
My attempts at poetry have been short of my standards so far, but in the poetry competition themed "Metamorphosis - A Change" this year some of the entries come close. Dr. Thani, the resident pathologist, writes of being a dead tissue necrosed and infarcted in one of his 5 entries while Dr. Hla Yee Yee sent in some of her own as well. Another member of staff wrote a haiku on change from Windows to Mac OS:
Style also is very personal. If not influenced by anything, one's default style is distinctive, giving, perhaps, an insight into how the person thinks.
A good poem, I feel, flows smoothly from line to line and thought to thought. The words don't have to rhyme, but the words should harmonise with one another and roll deliciously in your mind like chocolate in your mouth as you read them aloud in your head.
My attempts at poetry have been short of my standards so far, but in the poetry competition themed "Metamorphosis - A Change" this year some of the entries come close. Dr. Thani, the resident pathologist, writes of being a dead tissue necrosed and infarcted in one of his 5 entries while Dr. Hla Yee Yee sent in some of her own as well. Another member of staff wrote a haiku on change from Windows to Mac OS:
The Blue Screen of Death -
Productivity? Go and
Chew on an Apple.
On the students' side, Elena and Audrey used the letters in "metamorphosis" to construct their poems and the results were superb, and the others were commendable in their own ways.
Judging is on 22 October, so I'll be posting the winner up then, if I can get a hold on his/her entry. But here's mine, written on a very rainy night in the chiasmic style of Deuteronomy (see my previous post). Comments and brickbats welcome.
The reason I cry
Judging is on 22 October, so I'll be posting the winner up then, if I can get a hold on his/her entry. But here's mine, written on a very rainy night in the chiasmic style of Deuteronomy (see my previous post). Comments and brickbats welcome.
The reason I cry
is not really as obscure
as it does seem to be.
Though sometimes it escapes
as it does seem to be.
Though sometimes it escapes
like a fish which nips at the bait
taunting me with glimpses of it.
Yet I forget
taunting me with glimpses of it.
Yet I forget
I am predictable in a way:
why I cry is always the same.
My tears fall like healing rain-
washing the hurt and the pain
away from me, wiping the slate clean.
What happens then is always the same:
why I cry is always the same.
My tears fall like healing rain-
washing the hurt and the pain
away from me, wiping the slate clean.
What happens then is always the same:
my soul wakens changed;
freshened by glimpses of the future,
freshened by glimpses of the future,
of hope and life anew.
Though they elude me sometimes
Though they elude me sometimes
my tears wash my eyes clean,
and show me that the way is after all
and show me that the way is after all
not too obscure to see.
That’s the reason I cry.
That’s the reason I cry.
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