21 October 2005

              Changi Airport

              It is a huge clean box
              with clear glass panels,

              directions for its visitors
              and tidy compartments

              to contain the swellings
              of a little nation’s pride.

              How much can one love
              an efficient process?

              We are here only because
              we are going elsewhere

              we are pleased that
              our luggage rarely gets lost

              we like the purple orchids
              and marine fish

              and we would stay to watch
              the whole world here,

              if it was not always
              merely passing though.
posted by Gilbert at Friday, October 21, 2005 5 comments

13 October 2005

Art by Philip Gardner.

          My Father Takes My Son For A Walk

          Small waves sing and sigh and run to the shore,
          Push and pull at their ankles, as they walk hand-in-hand
          Along the edge of the sea.

          My father is white-haired now, his shoulders stoop.
          With each step he is approaching the end of his life
          Altthough in this moment he does not think of it.

          My son is a young child. Shells and boats excite him.
          In the years ahead, the old man beside him will
          Become for him an uncertain memory.

          I have my own journey. I am watching them,
          As if from a very great distance, as if I were a wave
          Travelling out into the endless sea.
posted by Gilbert at Thursday, October 13, 2005 9 comments

02 October 2005


              Today my son,
              not yet two,
              learns a new word.
              “Apple,” I say,
              offering him
              a piece.
              He listens,
              then replies
              slowly -
              his first time,
              the word curling
              like a strange
              new taste
              in his mouth.

              Later he will
              run to the windows
              calling arr-pul,

              to the birds outside.
              In the afternoon
              it will rain
              and he will raise
              both palms
              to the clouds
              solemnly declaring
              arr-pul, arr-pul.
              Everything will
              be apple
              for the day.
              In two baby hands
              he will hold
              a grand new word
              and offer its
              sweet freshness
              to the sky.
posted by Gilbert at Sunday, October 02, 2005 9 comments