Going to Work (Triolet Re-structured)

I set out for school today but a man was in my way,
dead and bloating in the sun, dredged in the dust of the road—
well seasoned for death and fully tenderized by the fray.
I set out for school today but a man was in my way.
He lay dead in the street, causing my delay—
surrounded by a crowd staring bug-eyed like toads.
I set out for school today but a man was in my way,
dead and bloating in the sun; tossed in the dust of the road.

About

© Ammie-oy 2010

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Playing with Form: Rondeau

The Funeral Band
 
Leave it till it falls off they said.
A fragile fibre holds the thread
shows our lives twisted together,
fraying wisps attached forever—
twisting strands: symbol of the dead—
 
binds us together as though wed,
thin white cotton heavy as lead
holds me fast this funeral tether.
Till it falls off.
 
Through mourning days and grief I’m led
a fractured world inside my head
taunted by what if he never…
stumbling through but cannot sever—
this binding bracelet; his life’s thread…
till it falls off.

 
Further Information

 
© Ammie-oy 2010
 

Playing with Form: Abecedarian

This is really a variation on the form as a true abecedarian would start each line with a word beginning with the requisite letter as opposed to the ‘A is for…’ format I’ve followed here.
 
Alphabet Rhymes
 
A is for Ammie a mammy a maid
B is for baby protected by jade
C is the cat who’s asleep in the sun
D is for durian ice cream, yum yum
E is the elephant at Wat Phnom
F is the fun we have playing at home
G is the garden with sand pit we made
H is the hammock that swings in the shade
I am at peace here but this cannot last
J is for junior growing up fast
K is for kindy, left with a sigh
L is lea heuy and a tearful goodbye
M for green mango served with red chilli
N is for nonsense verse, funny but silly
O is for O’Russey shopping and bargains, then
Peking Canteen serving finest dumplings
Q is the quails eggs in packets of seven
R is for rice, a steamed bowl of heaven
S for the sunset seen up at the lake
T is the tuk-tuk the family take
U are the light and the love of my life
V is the violence that causes such strife
W for wat, for widow and woe
X is the place to which I cannot go
Y is the question that runs through my head
Z is the end; endless sleep and you’re dead.

 
More Information

 
© Ammie-oy 2010
 

Then and Now

When I grew up there were children in the street—
hopscotch squares and British bulldog,
big orange space hoppers,
skateboards and scooters—
seaters on bicycles, free in the wind;
trees to climb and woods to explore,
a key to get in left by the back door.
Older teens strolled hand in hand
and stole kisses under lamp posts.
 
They’re all surfing now. No wild blue
expanse for them—
caught in a net of inactivity,
active verbs to describe passivity,
the polyphonic hiss eclipses voices,
text replaces speech and
cars claim the streets.
Cocooned in cyber space, the earth grows
smaller and a child’s world expands
into isolation on a screen.

 
© Ammie-oy 2010
 

Playing with Form: Triolet (2)

On My Way to Work

I set out for school today but a man was in my way,
dead and bloating in the sun, dredged in the dust of the road—
well seasoned for death and fully tenderized by the fray.
I set out for school today but a man was in my way.
He was lying in the street gazing sightless to the sky,
a crowd gathered round him, buzzing like flies.
I set out for school today but a man was in my way,
dead and bloating in the sun; tossed in the dust of the road.

About

© Ammie-oy 2010

Waiting Games

When will you come and fetch me,
when will you take me away?
When will you come and rescue me,
when the blossoms fall in May?

Will you make me wait till June?
Will you make me suffer long?
I only know it is too soon,
before I’ve time to end my song.

But I’ve already suffered,
cradled fear for many years—
been gifted love and life,
but not enough to quell my tears.

But you’re calling me again
this time I fear you will not wait,
my days now just a waiting game,
mere time to face my fate.

© Ammie-oy 2010

Regeneration

Let me shed this skin before
we come together. It is mere protection
from past pains, to be sloughed
with your coming.
 
The very air around you brings
a prickle of heat to the body, alights,
and wakes the sleeping soul within whose
muffled weeping stills, flutters and
cracks the armour with a sigh.
 
Let me now emerge, the true image
of self, breaking into myself, breaking
out of myself—
becoming myself.
 
With you, once again I am me.

 
© Ammie-oy 2010