Stare at the wall
Listen
Watch
Listen and watch
Listen and watch and listen
gasp
muffled scream
"Oh no!"
chuckle, chuckle
Stare again
continuously for two hours
"What did you do last weekend?"
I paid to stare at a wall.
"What did you see?"
Moving pictures.
"Stare"
by Harold B Huang
Sat 30Apr22 1256 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#sightandsounds
Day 30 : "movie"
#mpwm22day30
#haroldhuang
(A sonnet)
Happiness comes from hearing little words
Spoken from within a sincere heart.
A simple "Thank you" brings a smile when heard
"You're so sweet" does make a good day start.
Happiness comes when someone says "Well done!"
It lifts your spirit; warms your inner soul.
"Awesome" brightens like the morning sun
It drives away self-doubt and makes one whole.
"Glad to meet you" often brings to mind
A pleasant soul we'd like to meet again
"Very nice of you" are words so kind
It says your good deed is not done in vain
Simple little words are good to say
They bring us happiness in many ways.
"Kind words"
by Harold B Huang
Thu 28Apr22 2124 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#heartfelt #sonnet
Day 28 : "love/happiness"
#mpwm22day28
#haroldhuang
(A sonnet)
Blackie was a little puppy dog
He came into my life when I was ten
He was small but heavy as a log
For want of a name, we called him Blackie then
Blackie was so playful yet endearing
He'd steal my sock and take away my shoe
Up and down the house he'd go a-hunting
It seems there's nothing Blackie wouldn't chew
One day we had to pack our things and move
To a shophouse in another town
A pet dog the landlord would not approve
"No Blackie!" said my father with a frown
Oh how my heart broke on that tearful day
To see my beloved Blackie given away.
"The day I lost Blackie"
by Harold B Huang
Wed 27Apr22 2321 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#heartfelt #journeyinlife #sonnet
Day 27 : "lost/found"
#mpwm22day27
#haroldhuang
One click of a button
On that little blue box called SUBMIT
Sets in motion a flurry of activities
a series of steps
a chain of events
in an unseen world
called cyberspace
Your name,
and credit card number,
its expiry month and year,
and three-digit verification code,
Your payment amount,
and product item code,
are all joined together
forming a string of characters,
each represented by
an American Standard Code
for Information Interchange
'A' becomes 65,
'Z' turns into 90,
'a' is changed to 97,
while 'z' becomes 122
65 is converted to 01000001,
and 97 to 01100001,
in that long character string.
each little binary '1' is stored
as a high voltage bit,
each binary '0' a low voltage bit,
with 8 bits to a byte
of ASCII character code.
Voilá,
A string of codes,
Little bytes containing little bits
of ones and zeroes
are sent by electric current
in data cables
by pulses of light
in optical fibre
and by radio waves
in thin air
all the way to its destination
website
to be recorded and processed.
Your credit card is charged
Your order is confirmed
And soon the item you purchased
will be delivered to your doorstep
All because of
One click of a button
On that little blue box called SUBMIT.
"Submit"
by Harold B Huang
Tue 26Apr22 2230 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#sightandsounds #journeyinlife
Day 24 : "e-Xchange"
#mpwm22day24
#haroldhuang
From sunrise to sunset,
from nightfall to daybreak,
the cycle of a day revolves.
Time passes through the sky.
From the first hour to the sixth,
onwards to the twelfth,
the shadow of the sundial moves.
Time passes over the land.
Time reveals herself to us
by her rising and setting sun,
by her waxing and waning moon,
day after day,
night after night.
Time passes before our eyes.
What if
one day the sun stops rising
and tarries at the same spot
in the morning sky?
What if
one day the shadow stops moving
and dwells at the same line
on the sundial face?
Does time come to a stop?
Do we stop growing old?
Has time become timeless?
Time surpasses our mind.
"Timeless time"
by Harold B Huang
Tue 26Apr22 2021 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#heartfelt #daydreams
Day 26 : "time"
#mpwm22day26
#haroldhuang
(A sonnet)
Every time you stop to talk with me,
you meet a veneer of my outer skin.
My outward behaviour is all you see,
while who I am is hidden deep within.
What I put on is my skin of choice:
the look on my face, gestures of my hand,
with my varied changing tones of voice,
and in the casual posture that I stand.
This skin of mine a scripted play performs,
in which I act out my own chosen drama,
a gripping life-like wayang of shadowy forms
moving together in perfect sandiwara.
Shadows of my skin are all you see,
underneath lurks that which is really me.
"Shadowy play"
by Harold B Huang
Thu 21Apr22 2120 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#daydreams #sonnet
Day 21 : "wayang kulit"
#mpwm22day21
#haroldhuang
Memories,
good, bad,
happy or sad,
recent, distant,
traumatic or soothing,
whether vivid
or nearly forgotten:
we are made of memories.
Our hopes and dreams,
aspirations, desperations,
persuasions, doubts,
smiles and frowns,
whether we persevere
or give up:
we are shaped by memories.
We are but skeletons of memories
walking to and fro
going about our day
accumulating more memories
along the way
Memories.
Whether we like them or not,
they make us.
"Made of memories"
by Harold B Huang
Tue 19Apr22 1625 hrs GMT+8
#poetry #poetrybyharold
#heartfelt
Day 19 : "memory"
#mpwm22day19
#haroldhuang
Tue 03/03/2026 This is a popular Indonesian Christian prayer song. I learned it during my undergraduate days in the early 1980s. Today, I...
