Category: Old Style Poetry
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Recovery
Recovery is the wave of texts That come in over time, Washing away the one from her. Our texts are in bottles out at sea, For someone to collect and Maybe ask themselves: “is it over?” Sigh Wan
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She got in her car in a hurry
You cut through me when you Stared into my soul Before you left Without looking back Sigh Wan
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Epistle to Alex
September 2022 If I told my younger self,“One day you will meet the third Great Alex”,I would have said, “no way – there will only ever betwo Great Alexes. There is Alexander the Great, one of history’s greatest military minds and leaders, and then There’s the Great Library of Alexandria, Built to realise a dream:…
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Dirty water hot dogs in New York
August 2022 The queue, two double decker buses long, Straight like a thirty centimetre ruler, was for Hot dogs, rose red, wrapped in whiteGrease proof paper. The metal cart was like An old train, struggling along– There’s only so much a person can do. The steam kept rising higher. This was one of those good…
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Remembering “Water Sky” in Bristol
December 2021 I left the long queue my mother was in For Cha Sui, Roast Pork Belly, Already paid for, To go to the shop on the second floor;Maybe it sold packs of Pokemon CardsAnd Shinies like it did before, When I carried around a Game Boy Colour. The white shop lights Were just on…
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The Blonde and the Brunette
June 2021 On the travelator, I admired Her long legs, blue striped linen trousers, Cupping her bottom. She was coming up;I was already going down. Her blonde hair and nonchalanceMade it hard for me to look away.She was the best playerOn the other team I had to mark,One of the swimsuit models Guiding me towards…
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Covid-19
June 2021 It’s not that I don’t want toMeet a girl and ask her out. But the news and Politicians keep telling me, Covid-19 could kill me. And if it doesn’t, I could still possessThe touch of death. My colourful Vision of life after school is now A big grey square. Sigh Wan
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“What did you do this weekend?”
March 2022 “What did you do this weekend?” “How was yourHoliday?” I have to lie because my friends Are made up of Youtubers, actors, singers And their names never stay the same. Can I call the books I read my friends? I was alone after school once in the common room And read Sylvia Plath…
Lunchdatesonly 