I really should stop doing this. Leaving this blog decrepit and running off for months on end, to come back again like a contrite lover. I’m irresponsible, emboldened by the fact this blog will always be here, a patient scribe eager for the next insipid thought I’d rather put in words.
I’m back this time not because life turned sour, although that can be one of the common facades life choose to present itself. No I’m quite the optimist, admittedly prone to reading too far into issues, but an optimist nonetheless. I guess I just missed writing, blogging, stringing a bunch of words into a sensible structure, whatever you call it. Ever since I absconded my EIC throne following the coup, I’ve not written anything creative (read: non-report/essay).
I was browsing through the submission I made for last term’s creative writing class, reminding myself how bloody smart I was to come up with 10 original poems in two days, and how bloody stupid the prof was for giving me a B+. I’ll never take it lying down, giving me an average grade for a piece I stripped my emotions stark naked trying to inspire. Damn him, and to let this matter pass, I’ve decided to put some down here, one piece a day, for the whole dang cyberworld of Robert Frost wannabes judge whether it deserves a dang B+. Call me a narcissist.
Field at Lorong Gambir
For ten years I walked that field;
How it shrunk as I grew, when
My increasing strides made each
Journey appear shorter than the previous.
Many would agree to
This growing convenience,
We shared ups and downs,
Akin to a friendship, some days
The bogged mud splattered up
To the collar of a shirt for a dinner
I hadn’t attended. And
I would curse such
Other times I enjoyed its companionship.
It gave me special access on nights
When the stars were particularly unabashed.
I would sit on its soft, prickly back
And finish a tub of ice cream
Like I was in an outdoor cinema,
As I age, time seemed to move faster,
In tandem to what’s considered “progress”,
A bane to relationships in my own opinion,
And I neglected the field, largely
Because I knew its patience,
Which I’ve come to take
I should’ve paid more attention;
Recently strangers with hardhats caged up
My friend in zinc fences and put up signs
To discourage the few who tried
Making contact, and I was late;
I didn’t even manage to