11 June 2006


            In a secret place, a very secret place,
            with the world so faraway
            that I end up whispering to myself.
            No one knows I'm here,
            and no one will hear me speak.

            Just beside me, a clear little stream,
            running over pebbles, passing moss-covered rocks.
            If I slipped and hit my head,
            I think I might stain the water red
            and die here.

            Listen to how it breathes, babbles, all nonsense,
            rushing to irrelevant destinations -
            see how it ignores me.
            I just might want to slip, hit my head,
            to stain the water red
            and die here.
posted by Gilbert at Sunday, June 11, 2006


Blogger Mr Jherek said...

I like the poem but the rhymn

If I slipped and hit my head,
I think I just might stain the water red

Seems slightly out of place, unless that was
what was intended.

Or maybe it's me reading the poem and looking
at the picture (Klimt isn't it?) and the juxtaposition
of words and image seems strange

June 12, 2006  
Blogger Gilbert Koh said...

Mmmm, thanks for the comment - let me think about it.

Klimt image admittedly was not carefully chosen - just plucked something available and stuck in it.

This poem (and other several recently-posted ones) are very old works - possibly not so good - I just wanted to post them and get them out of the way before I start writing new ones;

I have some interesting ideas for new poems; just haven't had time to really execute yet ....

June 12, 2006  

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