The Most Beautiful Catapult Ever

When I was a kid, the house we lived in is at the foot of a series of hills. A small stream which originates from these hills flowed past our house. One day, a friend and I decided to trace the source of the stream. So, we headed upstream, clambering over the numerous rocks and boulders that filled the stream and ducking under the ferns and tall grass that lined both sides of the stream. After climbing for hours and tiring from the effort, we were relieved that we were approaching the highest peak. We knew then that the end of our climb is near.
Suddenly we reached a clearing and we realized that we had reached a rubber estate. What surprised us was there was a cement pool about ten feet wide, twenty feet long and three feet high in the clearing. Now, who would want to build a swimming pool in a rubber estate on top of a hill I wondered? Slowly we approached the pool. It was almost as tall as us and when we peered inside, we were astonished to see that it was full of tortoises of all sizes! Before we could react, a man suddenly emerged from behind some rubber trees and I immediately recognized him as Mister Hendricks, a teacher in my school who was known to be quite stern. He wanted to know what we were doing there and we quickly explained to him our mission and assured him that we were not there to steal the tortoises. To our immense relief, he believed us.
We wanted to continue on our journey but Mister Hendricks refused to allow us to go further into his estate saying that the climb up the peak is very steep and dangerous. Grudgingly, we gave up our quest. Hell, we were dead tired anyway. When we bade Mister Hendricks goodbye, I swear I could see the ghost of a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes; hmm, maybe he was not that stern after all.

I used to go fishing at a small pool in the stream too. Fishing then was simple; a bamboo pole, a string and a hook. I used bread crumbs as bait. The fish that I usually caught were what we then called “white fish” which thrives amongst the rocks of swift flowing waters. These are small fish about a few inches long with pink fins and large prominent scales which are shiny and have a golden hue. I think these are a type of carp fish.
But the fish that I cannot forget was the catfish that I caught. It was very different from the other types of catfish which lives in drains and are either grey or dark in colour. This catfish was brown in colour with two white rings on both sides of its body. I have never seen such a beautiful catfish before and decided to take it home with me. I kept it in a tin of water and fed it with bread crumbs. However, the catfish refused to eat. It grew thinner and thinner and after about a week, I realized that it was homesick. So, reluctantly, I took it back to the pool where I had caught it and released it. It immediately swam under a rock without even a goodbye. Oh well, I guess it had a right to be annoyed.

The hill immediately behind our house was uninhabited and covered with brush. One day, I had climbed up the hill alone to look for the best forked branch to make a catapult. The small trees and shrubs reached up to my chin as I waded into the undergrowth. Finally, after a long search, I found the perfect fork, chopped it off and took it home with me. That night, I noticed two pairs of puncture marks on my thigh. My uncle told me that these marks were made by snake bites and that I had been bitten twice! Darn! Had that snake been venomous, my body would never have been found for no one knew that I was up in the hills that morning.
The catapult I made was a beauty with perfectly symmetrical arms shaped like the horns of a water buffalo and I was so proud! Unfortunately, I only used it twice.
The first time was one evening when, for some unknown reason, the blooming giant angsana tree near my house was literally swarmed by thousands of tiny green birds. The familiar yellow flowers of the angsana which normally cover the tree was completely hidden by a carpet of green birds and there was a loud humming sound. I took my catapult out and shot a marble straight up into the birds in the tree. The tree was about fifty feet tall and I was not sure I hit anything until I saw one of the birds detach itself from the rest and began to slowly spiral downward. When it finally reached the ground, I noticed that one of its tiny wings had been broken and I instinctively knew that it would not survive. I felt bad because I did not mean it any harm. I just wanted to hold one of these cute fluffy little birds in my hands.
The second time was when I spotted the most beautiful bird that I had ever seen among the hibiscus plants at the back of my neighbour’s house. It was dark blue in colour with shiny green patches at the breast and specks of yellow and orange all over. I shot at it with my catapult and it fell to the ground. I stared, transfixed with horror, as it thrashed about on the ground in its death throes and then suddenly, it was still. I knew it was dead. The remorse hit me hard and I flung away my catapult.

So if any of you are interested in the most beautiful catapult ever, it is still lying there, somewhere among the shrubs at the back of my old house.

Stupid Cupid! Start Shooting At Me!

Introduction:-

This poem is inspired by my three daughters Swee Wei, Siu Wei and Wei Wei and is dedicated to my son, KC.

If Cupid's arrow strikes you in the heart

You'll dream and yearn for his tender kiss
For it will lead you to eternal bliss

You want to be forever by his side
As a gushing, blushing, beautiful bride

You long to share with him this life
With him, the husband and you, the wife

If Cupid's arrow strikes you between the eyes

You will tremble and quiver just like jelly
Though he's short and bald, with a large pot-belly

Your love will hold him in a tight embrace
Even though you have never seen his face

You begin to like the things you once dread
'Cause Cupid's arrow has made you brain-dead

If Cupid's arrow strikes you in the butt

Your love, my dear, will be a "pain in the ass"
Yeah, those who boasts and are "full of gas"

They'll look at your "bottom" and not in the eye
And baby, it is not because they are shy

Sweetheart, be careful how you wiggle and sway
Otherwise, eyes will "pop" and "wolves" will bay

If Cupid's arrow were to give you a miss

Now, don't you just mope and cry
You've got to catch that Cupid's eye

Why can't the dumb Cupid see
That you're as pretty as can be

Hey wretched Cupid! Improve your aim
Or else, you will never shoot again


Stupid Cupid! Start shooting at me!
Stupid Cupid! Start shooting at me!
Hey Stupid Cupid! Start shooting at me NOW!

p.s.
Just for the record, Cupid's arrow struck my wife, Sew Chin, right in the centre of the heart!

T.W.Lee

The Lizard

I stood by the window and looked outside
And spied the lizard so bravely glide
From up the hill the bold lizard launches
To touch down safely on the Bauhinia's branches
And in case you think I'm talking crap
That cute lizard has a wing-like web

In my garden it plays hide and seek
With lots of insects and bugs to pick
Butterflies, beetles and the bumble-bee
Amongst lily, hibiscus and morning glory
Dragon-flies, ants and the ladybird
Among the flowers, leaves and dirt

When I get near the lizard remains still
Just like it would when going for the kill
With its brown colour and tail like a twig
To disguise itself, it doesn't need a wig
In my Bauhinia bush and the "chiku" tree
The brash young lizard simply runs free

One morning last week as I dig and hoe
And admire the flowers and watch them grow
Among the sugar cane the lizard did hide
Fast like lightning, the golden snake strike
With the lizard in its mouth, the snake I sight
A snake's breakfast was the poor lizard's plight

Goodbye my friend for I've been blessed
You're the first flying lizard I've ever met

T.W.Lee

Unlike Us, Snakes Don't Fight

Last week, I was in the garden when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. I turned to look and there it was; a snake with a flying lizard in its mouth. The snake was about five feet long, brown in colour with a golden strip on its side running the length of its body. It was inside the drain with its head raised high and it obviously had seen me too and looked unsure of what to do next. I stepped back to allow it to enjoy its meal undisturbed.

Now the lizard was a permanent resident in my garden, often hiding among the sugar cane, lily, hibiscus and morning glory plants. Sometimes it would also be in my chiku tree or my flowering bauhinia bush. At times, it would even come right up to my door! Friendly chap, this lizard.
It was about seven inches long, thin, golden brown in colour with a fine long tail. It had a thin web that connects its front leg with its back leg on both sides of its body and it actually glides rather than fly. I had seen it once gliding from the tall trees on the hill that faces my house onto the bauhinia bush in my garden.
I had tried to chase it away but it always returned. Maybe it likes me but I think it likes the other visitors to my garden even more – the bees, butterflies, ants, dragon flies, ladybirds, etc. Well, this morning it had finally left but my guess is, its cousin would soon be around.

The snake reminds me of another encounter I had some time back. Once I had seen two pythons mating! These were huge and they were “standing” about six feet tall, facing each other with their mouths interlocked like a dancing couple kissing. They were moving sideways with such speed and force that the small trees and shrubs in the clearing, the size of two basketball courts, were all crushed and broken. This went on for about an hour! Can they be fighting? No! I don’t think so because their “dance” looked very much like the Tango – besides, unlike us, snakes don’t fight. At least, not much.

My house is at the foot of a number of hills. The land used to be a rubber estate through which runs a small stream, shaded by the tall rubber trees. It was in this cool and fast-flowing stream that, a long time ago, my brother and I caught the Tiger Barb fish and the “Kwachi” fish. The Tiger Barb is a diamond – shaped fish with red fins and vertical black lines along its body rather like the stripes of a tiger. The “Kwachi” is a slim and silvery fish with a triangular purple patch at the rear end of its body. We were kids back then and we sure enjoyed ourselves – swimming, camping, climbing trees, climbing hills, fishing, etc. Sigh … Those were the days.
In the nearby hills was another rubber estate. On a few occasions, I had followed the rubber tappers when they went to work early in the morning when it is still dark. Every one of them had a lamp on their heads and they headed up the hill in groups, singing Chinese love songs at the top of their voices, before splitting up with each of them tapping rubber in a certain area, still singing. In the darkness, I can see the light of their lamps bobbing around like fireflies and I can hear their songs resounding through the hills. I don’t think I can ever forget this tremendous spectacle!
I believe the singing is to frighten away the wild animals such as tigers, wild boars, snakes, civet cats, etc that may have stolen into the estate from the neighbouring hills during the night and to let each other know that they are alright.

Alas, the rubber estate is no more and has been replaced by a housing estate and the hills are now covered by roof-tops instead of tree-tops. Rows of houses now stand where once were rows of rubber trees. And, the kid who once roamed these hills has now become an old man.

You're In Love

When you can give everything and still not feel empty
When the very sight of him makes you feel so happy
You're in love !

When you can feel warmth in the depths of winter
When his very presence makes you feel it's summer
You're in love !

When you can see sunshine in dark gloomy weather
When, in the still of night, you can hear his laughter
You're in love !

When you can feel his warmth even when far apart
When the memories of him fit snugly in your heart
You're in love !


T.W.Lee

Can You Show Me The Place

Can you show me the place
Where dreams go to meet
Where wealth, success, glory
And love, I get to greet

Can you show me the place
Where hopes end their flight
Where I can pick up the pieces
And at last see the light

Can you show me the place
Where wishes mingle around
Where happiness, luck, prosperity
And "all the best" abound

Can you show me the place
Where spirits take a dive
Where bruised, battered and sore
Can still shrug, "That's life"


T.W.Lee

Waiting To Walk Amongst The Clouds Once More

The year was 1983. We, a group of students, were up in the mountains of Malaysia at a place called the Cameron Highlands to study the habitat of the Bluebottle fly at the farming village of Kampong Raja, and stayed the night in a small town called Brinchang.
It was a cold night and I woke up early the next morning to answer nature's call. As I gazed out of the window, I saw it; a thick white cloud has enveloped the whole valley. Quickly, I put on my shoes and my jacket and stepped out into the cold, cold morning. The street was deserted and all was quiet as the whole town continued to slumber. Even the cicadas and birds were quiet, their voices frozen by the cold. I walked through the thick white mist from one end of the town to the other and finally, took a seat in the small park situated right in the middle of the town. The branches of the trees around me were bowed down and laden with water. The dewdrops on the leaves looked like pretty white pearls in the early morning light.
It was cold! It was wet! It was enchanting! The thick white mists swirled around me in a slow dance and then slowly engulfed and held me in a tight embrace until we were one, and my senses were dulled into oblivion. After what seemed an eternity, out of the corner of my eye, I spied the sun's rays creeping stealthily into the valley. "No! Stop! Don't intrude! We don't want you here!", I cried. However, slowly but relentlessly, the sun's rays continued their intrusion, cutting a bright swathe in the misted valley as I watched helplessly. My anguish mounted as it got nearer and nearer and as a sunbeam kissed me lightly on the cheek, I saw the cloud lift itself from the ground and slowly begin its ascent, floating past the tree-tops, up the hills towards the hilltops. As it reached the hilltops, the cloud seemed to paused, reluctant to go. Or, maybe, it was just saying goodbye. "No! Don't go!", I cried for I knew it would never return.
But, with a turn, the cloud went on its way to roam the four corners of the earth, guided by the stars and steered by the winds.
Slowly the world began to stir as I trudged wearily back to the hotel. The flowers began to gingerly lift their bowed heads to face the morning sunlight, the birds cleared their throats and began their morning song, the brook gurgled as it meandered its way through the town and smoke began to lazily snake out of the chimneys accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans as the cooks prepared breakfast. We left the mountains after breakfast that day.
One of these days, I am going to get myself a little cottage high up in the mountains. It will have a small garden where I shall plant flowers of all hues and colours and I shall sit there, amongst my flowers, watching as the clouds dance lazily in the sky. And, on a cold morning, when the clouds decide to come down to play, I shall be waiting; waiting to walk amongst the clouds once more.

"Loneliness is when you need someone's company.
Solitude is when you enjoy your own (company)"

- T.W.Lee, 9.12.2007