Poetry In Motion

Many folks were asking for more food reports and pictures and recommendations. It is a sure thing we love food! Unfortunately, I have some issues currently when posting more pictures due to certain restriction so I will ponder how to resolve it as I have many more food articles, recommendations and great pictures to share. In the meantime, there are other things in life.....

In ancient China, the highly intellectual and scholarly people would often compose and recite poems. In the literary world, there have been many great poets the world over. They could simply wax lyrical.

Poetry is an imaginative awareness of experience expressed through sound, meaning or rhythmic language so as to evoke an emotional response, a vivid verbal composition designed to convey ideas and emotions with finesse and style. In a sense, it is lucid in thoughts, elegant, graceful and smoooooooooth. It is purity like watching a magical moment in sports conjured out of nowhere like a magician pulling out rabbits from a hat.

Sportsmen have been sometimes described as "poetry in motion". Watching Lionel Messi slaloming his way to goal, David Beckham scoring a curler with little back lift, Zinedine Zidane shuffling his feet with a ball, a winger tearing down the wings, Tiger Woods teeing off or Ernie Els hitting it flush, Usain Bolt hitting the finishing line, badminton players with their graceful footwork and leaps.

Poetry in motion is above all, about grace and elegance. Another simple way to look at and understand grace and elegance is to look at swans. Some of us are as elegant as swans but some of us are also like panic-stricken swans - graceful and elegant from above the water but below the water, paddling like mad. Listen to Johnny Tillotson's Poetry In Motion: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pop1rMUiXP0

Allow me to share my original composition. See if I am a reincarnation of a Tang Dynasty poet:

Golf

A new day dawns, a clear blue sky, birds chirp in the woods and yonder. From brand new balls to tattered gloves, with a nervous tweak, you adjust your grip, as your mind wanders.

Folks would gather in groups of four, clubs in hands, the earth they tore! Fore! They screamed after a bad swing, and then they swore @#$%! like it was nothing.

Then they swish from tee-box to green, what happened was not what they imagined. Why O why would some despise? People struggling to do par four in five.

Morning dew that trickles on fields, plenty of shots that went askew. The water that swallows your ball, is better than OB or the jungle where it falls.

Even if it flew into its watery grave, all you must need is to be brave, you may hit it fat or thin, then you hope, for others to do worse things.

Golfers of old, they've always been told, that there are other better things to do, then just hitting balls, braving even the Sumatran Squall.

Ads anew, they ask of you: Just Do It! Just do what? Just hit that silly dimpled ball! With spirit humbled and energy drained, come evening sun the day demands. An ice cold beer with the peers, all others are immaterial.

Esplanade

Oh, sweet memories brought me back, I remembered when I crossed that stretch. O busy street, the underpass we'll meet, I still smell the earth beneath my feet.

A strand of grass between my lips, the nervous hand that held her hip, head on shoulder, across the Padang we sit, as we watch the setting sun behind distant ships.

Silhouettes of lovers in the park, gluttons galore at the Satay Club, from then to now the memory was a blip, no more Satay Club and surely no ships.

A distant memory fading weak, of wrinkled lips that smacked her cheeks. Steady hands that once held her hip, now struggle to hold a beer glass without a twitch.

Gently on the pillow I now rest and sleep, the froth from beer around dried lips, lingered but fizzled when daylight hits, nothing feels better than a morning sh*t.

Yesterday's luggage we left behind, facade of new buildings glitters like a new dime, you think it's no crime? Wiping memories of our time.

Alas! Dreams that dreamers' dream, it does nothing for your self esteem, the Esplanade in mid dream, like urine in mid stream, Life's answers always lies within.