At Sea.
For I
The sun streams through the window,
warming my face, as I stare out at the aerial sea,
at the sunbaked, mechanical wings flapping,
taking this ship higher, higher.
Fifty-thousand feet up at sea,
Above the lush coral-fields of clouds,
Traveling through these crystal clear hues,
Of never-ending blues.
The sky-turtles float about aimlessly,
Dancing amidst the majestic mantas,
Who soar, wings open, effortlessly.
I cannot help but think of you.
Back before this ship took flight,
In those sunny, sunny, summer days,
When we took a sail out to sea at first light,
Adventures— up and down the waves,
Navigating through the nimbus and flocus,
Spying fish, and swimming down deep.
I close my eyes and I can still see your face;
Wishing you’d stay, as I feel the warm sun weep
Luminescent rays through the window,
Shining on sunbaked, mechanical wings flapping,
Taking this ship further, further away.
Through the white fields,
fortress of clouds.
A pod of orcas fly by.
Time Flies.
My life in a trunk,
Packed in a flying metal box,
Across the seas and back again,
Soaring over the forest of clouds,
Thirty-five thousand feet above again.
Across snowy mountains and sunny seas
To green, green island,
To learn of trypsin,
and murmurs,
And back again,
Time flies they say,
Three more years.
Houseman.
The work day has started,
‘Doctor, doctor!’ I hear some nurse shriek.
I hope she didn’t mean me.
Oh no, here she comes.
‘Put in a line’, she says.
I fumble, once, no, twice,
mumbling apologies, mumble, mumble.
‘Thank you, doctor’
Doctor, it seems so surreal,
I don’t deserve it.
Is that really me?
It seems last yesterday I was still a student,
Just a baby, protected, babied, taught.
Now, I am writing prescriptions.
Hoping not to get caught,
And scolded.
I have grown old,
The work day has started.
The Consultant.
The sun breaks across the wards,
Illuminating the volleys of pills and needles.
Officers running around with boards,
Checking plans, and scripts, and vitals.
Amidst the morning battle,
He calmly strolls across the ward,
Like a colonel, silver eagle on his chest,
stethoscope in hand,
Combat-ready, he summons the men,
His officers, in fear, fall in around the bed,
While Sargeant Majoress keeps order.
‘So, tell me how is Mr Tan today.’
The captain goes first, telling his report,
Then, the lieutenants are questioned,
belittled, humbled, drawn, and taught.
Silently, the cadet moves out of harm’s way.
They move from bed to bed,
At every turn, he demonstrates his prowess,
reminding them of the gulf until they are dismissed.
Off to war again, better equipped,
learning, day by day.
Ascent.
For J
White veil of snow a top her head,
Unscalable mountain with the broken feet.
Little holes where miners drilled for gold.
They'd missed the mark, aimed far too low,
For her heart was the most expensive,
A furnace in this blistering cold.
Hands wrapped around hot chocolate,
Half mad from fighting hypothermia.
Often, the wind seemed to whisper.
That giggle, teasing, sweet sounds
Now forgotten, buried deep in snow.
An eye, a smile, sweet dimples
Warms the heart some winters ago.
The tundra is a frozen white wasteland
Of bellowing winds, all shoveling snow
Across the blades of grass
these dreams from long,
long ago.
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