A poem in Malay for today: Kemboja merah jambu

For the first #‎MYWritersPoetryPrompt‬ for February 2016 in the ##‎MYWriters‬ FB group, I put up a photo of frangipani flowers, which I took on a marine biodiversity education trip to Terengganu in June 2014.

 

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I thought of writing a poem in Malay, because the photo was taken in Terengganu and frangipani flowers always reminded me of local and traditional culture. So, here it is: 🙂

Kemboja merah jambu

Kemboja merah jambu menawan
Di laman rumah senyap sepi gunawan
Tepi pantai riuh ombak samudra
Penuh dengan bisikan hati bergelora
Tiada siapa mendengar rintihan pilu
Yang sunyi menanti kepulangan mu

Khor Hui Min
3 Feburary 2016

 

Here’s the translation for the poem:

Pink frangipani

Enchanting pink frangipani blossoms
In the quiet gardens of the virtuous
Beside the beach where waves crash unendingly
Full of the passionate whispers of the heart
Nobody hears the melancholic sighs
Of one who awaits your return in loneliness

Khor Hui Min
3 Feburary 2016

 

This poem is about the fathers, mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers in the little villages and quaint towns, who await the return of the youngsters who, attracted to the bright lights of the glittering cities, have migrated to the west coast to make it big. Enshrouded by the excitement of city life and materialistic success, the youngsters live their days busy with their work and newfound life, and memories and thoughts of their loved ones on the east coast are pushed further and further into the recesses of their consciousness.

 

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All Alone

This week’s poetry prompt word for the Malaysian Writers FB Group is ‘alone’. The prompt is announced every Wednesday and everybody can submit till the next Wednesday, a week later. If you keen to visit the Malaysian Writers FB page, you can click here.

Military installation at Ximen Arch beach. Photo taken on 12 March 2015.
Military installation at Ximen Arch beach, Taiwan. Photo taken on 12 March 2015.

All Alone

The park bench is bare
Of warmth and smiles
Of those who deeply care
Commuting over many miles

The playground is still
No toddlers nor munchkins
No giggling nor shouting fills
Only creaking swings, rattling bins

The home is chilly; devoid of love
No tantrums, sharp words nor tears
No hot stew bubbling on the stove
All alone while the monsoon wails near

Khor Hui Min
20 August 2015