forgive me
for i am
but a lowly
student
not from swanky bukit timah
nor the big city
but humble enclaves
a school nestled in the heartlands
how was I to know
that the application for CAP
has long closed?

Oh. Gawd. Am I good enough?

I'm probably not. Since I'm not that eloquant or creative to the point where every teacher comes running to me with application forms in their hands. Then again,

Or maybe not.

You were once
material
physical
visual
decaying with time
synthesizing with
discrepancy

the permeative chimes of the doorbell
the patter of wrinkled feet
the crinkles that your plastic bag would make
your chuckle
your crow's feet
a smile that matched Ah Kong's
'Say hello to Auntie!'

I would eat your biscuits
your offerings to your few grandnephews
chocolate
raisins
peanuts
savouring every morsel
immersing myself with the flavours of yesterday

these are now just folds in my memory
like the folds on your creased blouse
that were stained by blood
stained by guilt.

Now you
how intangible
how Delphian
how unfathomable
Secrets we once had
secrets for me to keep once more,
unaccompanied.

how funny
how bittersweet
it is to once again return again
to reminisce your suffering

by Samuel Lee

Orange streaks in a sky filled with pitch,
Yellow pods bursting– enthused chrysanthemums
are weaving through bejewelled night.
Floating, falling on diamond-encrusted waters,
gleaming with dancing light,
that soon pirouttes into my soul,
and flutters as the wind passes by–
to float on emerald waters;
to gaze at young lovers;
to dive under bridges and nostalgy;
to sink contentedly into the oblivion of warm soft clay.

I.

I am the starfish and the sea breezes past me
I don't care where the cold wind blows
or the passing of the tides
because as the cold water surges forward
I am engulfed in
a strange familiar warmth

II.

I feel the warmth of
the fiery orange sun
as it wraps its tendrils
around the sand.
I feel the sea reflect
gilstening
white and blue shades
and lines
and contours
and foam on the beach.

III.

I think of
purple, white and orange
sometimes gold
I think of
the omniscence of things
invisible and unknown

IV.

I dream of sand on my back
and being shaded by thin swaying trees
swaying
as the sea breezes
caress the shore
I dream of sun kissed oceans
and topaz seas that hardly exist

V.

I am the starfish
Feel my perforations
and leathery, slippery skin
Think of the millions of unquantifyable stars in the horizon
at night
Dream of worlds
that only exist in
dreams







By Samuel Lee
It sure feels weird to sign off by my name, in a sense that I am betraying my very own self and being by calling myself a starfish and then calling myself Samuel which are obviously two very contrasting things.

After looking at Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs which has been the well of my thoughts as I wrote this poem, I've rather based a starfish's life based on its being, physiologically, in the first two stanzas and eventually, of its esteem needs and of Actualization. The starfish's soliloquies of lying in the beach—in the sun, in the water and on the sand at the same time. I've pictured the starfish as without sight, but nonetheless still thinking and dreaming as it lies on the shore, where at this point the starfish starts wondering, about colours and of feeling its surroundings.

In the first stanza I've contrasted how literal forms take on an intangible value and qualities that depends on individuals. The starfish feels the cold seawater as warmth, contrasting two very simple elements of feelings but on the emotional, intangible level, still the same.

The 2nd stanza is more elaboration of the starfish's somewhat solitary life on the beach. It also pays homage to The Waves by Virginia Woolf, in which the sea seems to parallel lies of people and in this case, the starfish.

The 3rd stanza is mostly a comment on philosophy and the concept of beliefs purely by reason of thinking in different cultures— "the omniscence of things invisible and unknown".

The second-last stanza captures the dreams, aspirational and nocturnal, that one has, how our desires and utopias can't exist and that we have to make do with what we have now.

The starfish invites the reader to indulge in the lusciousness of appreciating and imagining. This concludes its message that this isn't just about living for the sake of living. It's holding strong to the things around us and the appeal of things existing and non-existing. Perhaps it even blurs the line between realizty and dreams.

One can also draw parallels to the starfish as a person on the beach, lying supine with one's eyes closed, feeling and thinking things that are not visual and being transported into a world where the reliance on sight is not dependent on being in a mirage.