A Cold Heart v02

(Another version of the poem I submitted yesterday to MyWriters Poetry Prompt. This version appears only in this blog.)

When empathy vanishes
helpfulness fades
and kindness flies away,

Sympathy is no where to be found.

All that goes on in the mind will be
Cold heartless calculation
Of benefits and advantages,
Of what it will cost,
And how much will be lost.

Where the only matter left
that matters anymore will be
Whether it is absolutely necessary,
Whether it is really required,
Whether it is that important.

"What's so difficult?"
"Can't you do it yourself?"
The cold voice scornfully asks.

"Don't tell me you can't even
finish such a simple task"

When sheer argument
Displaces and
Replaces
Kindly love and affection,

All that remains is
A cold heart.

20191221 1658 hr
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang

Cold

A Cold Heart v01

When empathy is absent,
As helpfulness flies away
Along with kindness,
And sympathy is no where to be found.

All that is left will be
Cold calculation
Of benefits and advantages,
Of what it will cost,
And how much will be lost,

Where the only matter left
that matters anymore will be
Whether it is absolutely necessary,
Whether it is really required, or
Whether it is that important.

And about the only question left,
And posed by way of sheer argument is
"Can't you do it by yourself?"
Followed by the scornful
"Don't tell me you can't even
carry out such a simple task."

When cold calculated
cunning considerations
Displaces and
Replaces
Kindly love and affection,

All that is left is

A cold heart.

20191220
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang

Submitted to
#MyWritersPoetryPrompt (35 / 2019)

Cold

Hello?

" "Hello?" asked Shanti hesitantly, startled by the sudden ringing of the phone, only to be greeted with sinister silence at the other end."

20191217

Submitted to #MyWriters1stLiner
52 / 2019 (16th - 21st Dec)

Who's next?

"Who's next?", Hisham asked himself, brush and palette in hand, as he stared at the blank canvas before him.

20191209
Submitted to #MyWriters1stLiner
51 / 2019 (9th - 14th Dec)

Fruit of labour

Slices of fruit, in colours yellow and red,
a sight so appetising to behold.
Fruits of goodness before our eyes are laid,
waiting to be picked, eagerly from the bowl.

A platter of fruit, neatly cut, arranged,
we see in them occasion for relief.
After a meal, we seek a welcome change,
sweet and tasty, cool respite they give.


And yet we see not all the toil and labour
that was put in through many months before,
From ploughing, sowing, transplanting with much fervour,
through weeding, pruning, watering and more.

Then harvesting, packing, transporting from the farm,
until they reach the grocer, our friendly neighbour.
In neat and tidy crates, they're such a charm,
that we forget they are the fruit of labour.

20191206 1613 hr - 2225 hr
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang

Fruit of labour

The life of spice

Spice is not taken as a food, 

yet it's an item much sought after.

It does not satisfy one's gnawing hunger, 

yet brings much satisfaction to the eater.

A spice may be discarded after a meal, 

yet it cannot be left out of the cooking.

It may not taste good, taken on its own,

yet brings to life the food we're taking.

The spice goes to work subtly and quietly,

yet it turns dishes into objects of praise.

It's rarely recognised, hardly celebrated,

yet brings fame to cuisine of fine taste.

Such is the humble life of spice,

an unsung hero with much to give.

A selfless life that ends in sacrifice,

it dies that good food may live.

20191205, 2242hr

#Poetry

#PoetryByHaroldHuang 

#MyWritersPoetryPrompt 

34th / 2019

The Life of Spice.

Little Beng sat up

"Little Beng sat up with an uneasy feeling when he saw a sunbeam shining in through the bedroom window."

Submitted to:
#MyWriters1stLiner
Week 50 / 2019
2nd - 7th Dec 2019

20191118 2152hr

Burn

We burn with anger

when we read roaring remarks
     that rage against our race,
when we are witness to words by people worked-up
     to wage war against our ways.
when we peruse pages of hate
     and passages of humiliation.
   
When we experience hatred and despise
    from people who think we don't belong here,
we burn with disgust.

Our burning anger is of no use.

It is not helpful.
It brings no relief from
     nor the removal of
all the fiery hatred and disdain
     stirred up continually
by power hungry politicians.

Instead,

Let us burn with desire to see better days
Let us burn with enthusiasm to stand up
     and be counted for our country.
Let us burn with passion to work together in hope,
     standing together in comradeship.

Let us burn away our lazy inaction.
Let us burn down our self-centered conceit.
Let us burn off our haughty arrogance,
     and our prejudice against others.

Let us burn malicious words,
     and remove them from our speech.

Let us look forward to the day
     when we live as a people
     burning with love for our mother land,

a land belonging to all of us.

20191201
#Poetry
#PoetryByHaroldHuang
#MyWritersPoetryPrompt
33rd prompt of 2019

Burn.