If I were to leave first
Do not be sad
Just remember to cherish
The time we’ve had
I will forever love you
With all my heart
And even in death
We’ll never part
This is not farewell
It’s not goodbye
For I will be waiting
So please don’t cry
It’s time to stop mourning
Time to let go
It’s time to dry your tears
Give life a hello
If I were to leave first
Overcome the pain
Live life to the fullest
Till we meet again
Tuesday 25 March 2008
Friday 21 March 2008
Morn
I see the rising sun
Peeping above the hill
I see the rays of light
Slicing the early chill
I see the fluffy clouds
Hovering, grey and still
I see the early birds
And hear their songs so shrill
I see the dewy grass
Glistening in the light
I see the flowers bloom
My, what a wondrous sight
A myriad of colours
Tantalizing and bright
Oh, what a difference
From the dark silent night
I smell the air so fresh
As a breeze kisses my cheek
Rustling leaves in the trees
While it plays hide and seek
I hear a gentle babble
And it comes from the creek
I spy a golden shaft
As the sun takes a peek
As I stroll on the path
Across the lush green meadow
Past bridges, lakes and brooks
In this sleepy hollow
The mist-shrouded mountains
Basking in morning's glow
Adds a touch of splendour
To mother nature's show
Peeping above the hill
I see the rays of light
Slicing the early chill
I see the fluffy clouds
Hovering, grey and still
I see the early birds
And hear their songs so shrill
I see the dewy grass
Glistening in the light
I see the flowers bloom
My, what a wondrous sight
A myriad of colours
Tantalizing and bright
Oh, what a difference
From the dark silent night
I smell the air so fresh
As a breeze kisses my cheek
Rustling leaves in the trees
While it plays hide and seek
I hear a gentle babble
And it comes from the creek
I spy a golden shaft
As the sun takes a peek
As I stroll on the path
Across the lush green meadow
Past bridges, lakes and brooks
In this sleepy hollow
The mist-shrouded mountains
Basking in morning's glow
Adds a touch of splendour
To mother nature's show
Sunday 9 March 2008
Blogger
There was once a philosopher
Who aspires to be a writer
Although he writes well
His articles can't sell
Now he has become a blogger
Who aspires to be a writer
Although he writes well
His articles can't sell
Now he has become a blogger
Maxwell Hill
Maxwell Hill in Taiping (now known as Bukit Larut) is the oldest hill resort in Malaysia. At 1250 meters above sea-level, visitors can enjoy the refreshingly cool air, the breathtaking view of Taiping town with the coastline in the distance and the beautiful sunsets. The appeal of the resort lies in its untouched mountain beauty with flowers, birds and the tree fern. When it rains, the resort would be shrouded in mist, giving the place an enchanted ambience. To go up the hill, we have to take a jeep. At the 3rd mile is Tea Garden and at the 6th mile, the Maxwell Hill Resort where there are bungalows for rent, rest houses, an Indian temple, a canteen and gardens.
The Taiping folk like to visit the resort during the weekends and public holidays. In the old days, groups of up to 40 would stay in a bungalow meant for 8. Nobody slept much anyway for there would be all kinds of activities until early in the morning for the young boys and girls. I dare say that many of the married couples in Taiping today, first met each other at Maxwell Hill. It was there that I first set my eyes on a beautiful young girl who is later to become my wife. I was sixteen then and she was two years younger. She later told me that for her, it was love at first sight. As for me, I am not telling except to say that she is still the prettiest girl I have ever met.
During my younger days, I have gone up Maxwell Hill countless times. Sometimes we went up by jeep but most of the time, we hiked up. Most times, we stayed in the bungalows but sometimes we camped at a small piece of flat land situated at the lower part of the resort. We don’t have a tent; just some ponchos.
One evening, five friends and I were sitting there watching the sun go down when the silence was broken by the sound of a flute. It was an Indian song and it came from the direction of the Indian temple. The haunting music completely captivated us! If ever there is an enchanting evening that was it! We sat there, enraptured by the music until night fell and, below us, the lights of Taiping town came on when the music finally stopped. We have gone our separate ways now and may never meet again but I bet that none of us would ever forget that evening.
We liked to hike up the hill. There were numerous short cuts, two of which were more than a kilometer long. Although these short cuts are steep and sandy jungle paths, being young and strong, it was no problem for us. I remember climbing up the hill once with my scout patrol when we took the short cut after Tea Garden which was the toughest and the longest. Just when we were about to reach the end of the short cut, we spotted a wild piglet in our path. It was a cute little thing, about a foot tall with yellow stripes on its hairy brown body. I was fascinated but my patrol leader, Ng, immediately ordered us to retreat down the path; the reason being wherever there is piglet, the sow is sure to be close by and a sow, defending her young one, can be extremely dangerous.
Tea Garden is 3 miles from the foot of the hill. There is a small canteen facing a bungalow. The road is wider here and this is the place where the jeep, going up or down the hill, would stop to wait for the jeep coming from the other direction to pass before continuing on its journey. There was also a small road leading down to another bungalow about a hundred meters below.
Once when I was with a group of classmates hiking down the hill, we decided to have a look down there. Halfway down, we came across a small stream with inviting fast-flowing water by the side of the road and stopped to take a rest. Whilst sitting among the rocks in the stream, we spotted small grey crabs hiding behind the rocks. While searching for the crabs, to our surprise, we discovered small silvery swordfish about two inches long! Crabs and swordfish in a mountain stream 600 meters above sea-level? I thought they can only be found in the sea.
A few years back, I hiked up to Tea Garden again. I was eager to look for the crabs and swordfish once more but it was not to be. The road and bungalow were gone, completely covered by thick jungle, but, in the distance, I could still hear the rushing water of the stream.
The Taiping folk like to visit the resort during the weekends and public holidays. In the old days, groups of up to 40 would stay in a bungalow meant for 8. Nobody slept much anyway for there would be all kinds of activities until early in the morning for the young boys and girls. I dare say that many of the married couples in Taiping today, first met each other at Maxwell Hill. It was there that I first set my eyes on a beautiful young girl who is later to become my wife. I was sixteen then and she was two years younger. She later told me that for her, it was love at first sight. As for me, I am not telling except to say that she is still the prettiest girl I have ever met.
During my younger days, I have gone up Maxwell Hill countless times. Sometimes we went up by jeep but most of the time, we hiked up. Most times, we stayed in the bungalows but sometimes we camped at a small piece of flat land situated at the lower part of the resort. We don’t have a tent; just some ponchos.
One evening, five friends and I were sitting there watching the sun go down when the silence was broken by the sound of a flute. It was an Indian song and it came from the direction of the Indian temple. The haunting music completely captivated us! If ever there is an enchanting evening that was it! We sat there, enraptured by the music until night fell and, below us, the lights of Taiping town came on when the music finally stopped. We have gone our separate ways now and may never meet again but I bet that none of us would ever forget that evening.
We liked to hike up the hill. There were numerous short cuts, two of which were more than a kilometer long. Although these short cuts are steep and sandy jungle paths, being young and strong, it was no problem for us. I remember climbing up the hill once with my scout patrol when we took the short cut after Tea Garden which was the toughest and the longest. Just when we were about to reach the end of the short cut, we spotted a wild piglet in our path. It was a cute little thing, about a foot tall with yellow stripes on its hairy brown body. I was fascinated but my patrol leader, Ng, immediately ordered us to retreat down the path; the reason being wherever there is piglet, the sow is sure to be close by and a sow, defending her young one, can be extremely dangerous.
Tea Garden is 3 miles from the foot of the hill. There is a small canteen facing a bungalow. The road is wider here and this is the place where the jeep, going up or down the hill, would stop to wait for the jeep coming from the other direction to pass before continuing on its journey. There was also a small road leading down to another bungalow about a hundred meters below.
Once when I was with a group of classmates hiking down the hill, we decided to have a look down there. Halfway down, we came across a small stream with inviting fast-flowing water by the side of the road and stopped to take a rest. Whilst sitting among the rocks in the stream, we spotted small grey crabs hiding behind the rocks. While searching for the crabs, to our surprise, we discovered small silvery swordfish about two inches long! Crabs and swordfish in a mountain stream 600 meters above sea-level? I thought they can only be found in the sea.
A few years back, I hiked up to Tea Garden again. I was eager to look for the crabs and swordfish once more but it was not to be. The road and bungalow were gone, completely covered by thick jungle, but, in the distance, I could still hear the rushing water of the stream.
Sunday 2 March 2008
There was once a cricket
There was once a cricket
Who,somehow, obtained a ticket
To watch a game of cricket
In the city of Nantucket
But his stepmother, so wicked
Who dislikes this little cricket
Decided to throw away the ticket
Into the dirty waste basket
Alas, the floor of parquet
Was not well-laid and crooked
And so the stepmother, so wicked
Fell and kicked the bucket
p.s.
Darn, I must be in one of those silly moods again.
Who,somehow, obtained a ticket
To watch a game of cricket
In the city of Nantucket
But his stepmother, so wicked
Who dislikes this little cricket
Decided to throw away the ticket
Into the dirty waste basket
Alas, the floor of parquet
Was not well-laid and crooked
And so the stepmother, so wicked
Fell and kicked the bucket
p.s.
Darn, I must be in one of those silly moods again.
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