Tag: singapore

Literary Arts Community Townhall – 15/09/19

This weekend, I was invited on behalf of /stop@BadEndRhymes (“/s@ber”) to go and attend the first ever ‘Literary Arts Community Townhall’, held at The Arts House. It was an engaging and interesting experience and I just wanted to pen some thoughts about it. The concept behind the Townhall would be for these representatives of the […]

Post-Bootcamp: Musings

The last post was about Manuscript Bootcamp, a weekend-long workshop where we got to hunker down and work on our manuscripts with several industry professionals and literary figures. As part of the Bootcamp, we had a “Presentation of Works”, where we got to talk about our work and how it has changed after the bootcamp. […]

Manuscript Bootcamp – Thoughts and Reflections

So, over the last weekend I’ve attended Manuscript Bootcamp (see last post), an intensive 3-day programme where your manuscript gets absolutely slaughtered and picked clean by various people in the industry, from writers to editors and beyond. As mentioned, given that the programme comes only once every two years for poetry, and that only 6 […]

Brittle Jade

You bottled message parlor woman. You crackled knuckle. You tremulo. I am divining josses in your will. I am folding you into a boat. I am paying Father to take a short trip. To look elsewhere. Oh, you cloud of jade. You page of filled out crossroad answers. You wreath of drawers. You little wreck […]

Merely Players

Paralyzed and emotionally stunted, poet finds solace in unread words. Sometime tell me it’s wrong to be. Mad, about everything and nothing. Sad about something for sure. If God is real, is this ataraxis, or bad writing?  Am I a background character on this ugly stage? The man in a tree costume. I feed, off […]

Naturally

in this there is no justice, no law. Here I throw myself against you, oh Wall, oh Mystery. Who am I to say who you are?  But I know this: I crave for you the way plants grow towards the sun. Yet I cannot see you. I cannot know you. I have never truly known either. […]

dream notes

Last night, I dreamt of an old friend picking up smoking, cigarettes with the look of pencils (because she wanted to be a teacher, you see). I dreamt of people I did not know. Last night, I dreamt, aside from her smoking lead, of a table mired in the middle of nowhere, all of us seated: […]