FOP #2

11.4 first time

One night, I woke up in the middle of the night
and found my father with a glass of cognac
in his hand, his eyes a bit red.

It was then, I found myself useless,
"good listening friend"
"hard-working student"
"potential poet"
all ending up in the trash bin
like the tissues my father
had tried to hide.

I saw him cry for the first,
and second time, unable to utter a word,
like it would break our rule
of 24/7 eating-dinner-silence.

11.5 wild card

He left me again, and it's silly
to fret over a love that never flourished,
to stay awake at night and imagine
a thousand scenarios where he'd
smash the door, hit you in the face
or send a lethal text message.

My mind's been wired to screens
for too long, and I long
to take off my glasses and feel
paper instead of keys, poetry
instead of petty vents.

11.6 formed - ode to bitter food

Oh, bitter food, how your greenery
carpets my tongue, how it spawns a generation
of crinkling noses and complaints
when a spoonful of you enters the cave
of crying children - yes I do enjoy
the sound - for this, this is how the world
was built, spoonfeeding bitterness
till no harm could be done to taste buds.

11.7 clothes

In pyjamas, in jeans,
in underwear, in skirts,
all I do is write poetry
till there's nothing left to wear,
till the washing machine begs me
feed it again, till my brain stops
knocking at my head, asking
when I'm done.

11.8 love

An earsplitting sound of tyres
and road echoes in the room,
pedestrians run and stumble
one after another,
walking dominoes,
bringing chaos in the living room
as you tickle me and we laugh,
pausing the dvd player for a second
and share a kiss.

12.1 transport + weather

We were sending ships into thunderstorms
the moment we vowed to hold on to buoys
instead of each others' hands.

No letter in a bottle will find its way home
anymore, and no mermaid will save you
from drowning in your sorrows.

12.2 3 x 3

Stop, pause, replay,
and the vacuum moves with me,
and shards are sucked into drumbeats.

One song later, the kitchen's
brandnew, glowing pearlescent
and the toilet seat sits down,

ready for me to stand on
and show off my dress
as I'm too short for the mirror.

12.3 royalty

Even with thousands of golden trinkets
you feared not a thousand thieves,
wore your crown high and made sure
your beard was frightening enough
but still tried to look as sophisticaed
as an old-bearder man could get.

You only had two hearts beating
inside of you - yours and your queen's,
and irony could tell that even with no other men
in your castle - you feared losing her the most.

12.4 first time

I wonder what it would be like
to hear the beating of a second heart
inside of your belly, for the first time,
as if you're brewing something bright
and beautiful, that will once put its hands
against the inside of your body, and you will
touch its hand from your outstretched shirt,
waiting for the moment to reconnect.

12.5 wild card

Checking online members,
checking FOP's discussion board,
checking main message board ...

I'm going paranoid.

When I shower I see similes
clinging to my ear like little annoying elves
screaming: "make me pretty, make me pretty",

and when I sleep I see dictionaries
clamping around my legs like oysters,
begging me to sound more eloquent.

But despite these hallucinations, I can only

Check the online members,
check FOP's discussion board,
check the main message board ...

do everything that's related to this competition
except writing poetry.

12.6 formed poem

lil chick tries to fly -
stumbles in the nearest pond,
stands up, tries again

12.7 clothing

We've grown, from tanktops
to bras, from underwear
to panties, but our heads
are as small, despite being decorated
by bigger hair, and floral tiaras.

At the end of the day
we are but spoiled princesses,
waiting for prince charming
to fall off its horse, right
into our arms.

12.8 love

If love means longing,
if it means seeing sunsets
when you close your eyes
and shoving the sandwich
you can't finish into someone
else's mouth and pecking
that someone's lips again
to still your gluttony ...
then perhaps, perhaps
I am not fit to love.

I want a different kind of love.
I want to hold his face when
he's inclined to pull out his hair,
I want to make sure his heart
beats calmly, whenever he's angry,
I want to capture his nightmares
like a dreamcatcher, and disappear
when his bodycheck turns positive.

13.1 transport + weather

You disappeared like a trainwreck
into my heart, and left my body ajar,
allowing the drizzle to wash out the prove.

I forgave you, and every passenger
you left to reside inside my ribcage,
but never waited at the station ever again.

13.2 3 x 3

I am quite wacky when I'm alone,
run around the house in my underwear
and shirt, and try to somersault
but end up slipping on the mattress.

Sometimes I voice record myself
reciting poetry, pretend to be Brittish
then run around the house again
(this time, fully clothed).

And when I end my sugarrush,
I hide in the corner of the bathroom
filming myself as if a ghost pulled my hair
then pretend nothing happened - fully clothed.

13.3 royalty

Crown me the queen of lunacy
and I shall whole-heartedly shake your hand
and ask you to feed me candy.

I shall announce my day, saying
"I am darkness itself, bow down for me"
then rise two feet on obvious wires

and it will snap
and I will wake up

and I will be the quiet student
and I will clean the house
and I will throw away my sketchbooks.

13.4 first time

The first time I bled,
I thought I was diseased,
but my classmated assured me
I'd become a grown woman,
and now I look at the bandages,
I look at my breasts,
I look at my height,
and I look at my heartbreaks,
wondering if I've truly become
a grown woman.

13.5 wild card

I stare at the ceiling
like a starfish that's washed ashore,
dried-up and shrinking, devoid
of loving hands to pick me up
and dust me off, and glue me
to their scrapbook.

13.6 formed poem

big balloon rises -
lights up the cherry blossoms
and descends again

13.7 clothes

By now, I've written about so many
pieces of clothings, I'm wondering if I've become
a pervert, and would like to hang myself
like dirty laundry, watching the sun
avert its eyes, and disappear.

13.8 love

This boy has made history -
made me write fists-ful of poems
never to be thrown in his face,
because I'm reserved like that,
not born to be a slam poet who spits
words like watermelon seeds,
just a little girl who wishes
to share a slice of watermelon
with her best friend
before he changes his taste
and opts for pineapples instead.

14.1 transport + weather

This family is a train, driving into foreign lands.
It's decomposing, wagon by wagon,
until only the railway slithers through
this wasteland, like a dried-up river
after a year-long heatwave.

14.2 3 x 3

The bells are chiming but I've never felt at home
in church, despite reading about Lucifer
and others that are, just like that

mythology. Statues to sketch,
and stories to transform
into make-belief poetry.

When I marry, I will consider it
a myth, and disappear in self-doubt
and be perpetuated in his diary.

14.3 royalty

Belly dancers enter his foreign soiree,
especially imported for him, to feel like
a king on his birthday -

between the music, glides a girl
who's just turned 18, and twirls with sorrow
for the loss of her parents.

14.4 first time

And we are but monkeys, standing on stage
for the first time as if the world wants to hear
about giving away their gold and spraying quotes
on murals of the president.

They forget about tin cans, neatly aligned
on the streets, waiting for a coin to echo
to still the rumbling of the stomach
as they boo at poets and ask for dancers.

14.5 wild card

One plushy sits atop my bed,
two plushies dangle from the top
of my closet, four plushies wait
in front of the door, asking for hugs.

I'm talking to stuffed animals these days,
gave them names and have tea with them
at precisely 3 PM, when school's out
and children's laughter overshadows my cries.

14.6 formed poem

Oh, I swear, that after this round
hoolahoops of words will spin around

my head, making me feel like saturn,
yellowed and ready to tip over.

14.7 clothing

Socks sit on the ground like children
in the gymnasium, eeny-meeny-moe,
and some will cry - always the colourful ones -
for not picking them, and I will just put on
my sneakers and walk out of the door.

14.8 love

'round and 'round I go,
chasing poofed up dandelions
and sneezing whilst catching 'em
because it appears I'm allergic,
and yet I chase, a sickness
I want to retain.

Because I remember how you laughed
at the sight of dandelions, like
balloons of feathers, reminding you
of innocence, and how her dress
was always as white, and poofing up
in the wind as well - unlike mine.

15.1 Transport & weather

Riding a bike on sidewalks on a rainy day
she was pedaling her way to the top
like working on a piece of art
never knowing when to stop.

15.2 3 verses 3 lines each

You are an hourglass
that's running out of sand
never on time, yet never stops

and I am but a thought
an excerpt from a dream
that's waiting to be written

we are on the road we both aim for
never knowing when to quit
or where to start.

15.3 Royalty

Perhaps you were made
my king
for such a time
as this

or a lukewarm
lover living
in a multitude
of sins.

15.4 First time

You'll never know
what it's like to live

until you bleed
from the sandpaper

that is your
wrist.

15.5 Wild Card

The computer screen is almost
As blank as my mind, muddled
With repitition and slugishness.
If I was running a marathon I
Would be stopping for a water break
Right about now.

15.6 Formed

Fieldmice skip and jump
Amongst the meadows grasses
Hidden from our view.

15.7 Clothing

All I wanted to wear was the
Kings of Leon Mechanical Bull tour shirt
I bought at their gig last year,
where it poured rain and our umbrella
was broken (it didn't cover us both
anyway). Whenever I wore it it made
me feel a slice of carefreeness I hadn't
felt before or since.

15.8 Love

You text me at 2.13 asking me
what love is so I got in my car
and drove to show you.

16.1 Transport and weather

Queuing an hour in the sunshine to go
On the cable car over Barcelona, from
The pier to the overseeing hilltop
Was worth the wait. I soared
Over the Columbus statue pointing
Out towards the bay, les ramblas and
La Sagrada Familia beneath me seemed
Fresh and new.

16.2 3 verses

It wasnt until dark
That the purge siren boomed
While I was stuck in the park.

Gunshots, screams,
The shadows hiding death
Were like the worst of dreams.

When suddenly a masked man stood
Above me with a machete and the last
Thing I saw was my own spurting blood.

16.3 Royalty

I worship you so,
You watch out for my needs,
Ensure Im never hungry
With youre extra value feeds,
And if you ever left the town,
I don't know what Id do,
Oh Burger King its fair to say
That I am in love with you