for old time's sake <br />this patience grew <br />with each piece <br />that came out of ground <br />from silver morn to scarlet dusk <br />we scratched through dust <br />the only time when the hours <br />were measured by bits and <br />pieces of things <br />that had soaked up <br />the glare of a million suns <br />anxieties and hopes <br />that came in bits and pieces <br />our laughter that too <br />sounded irregular <br />as the ancient stamp of history <br />we ploughed through every inch <br />of land to to make something <br />wholesome from breakages <br />piece by piece, irregular as <br />odd numbers three, five, seven <br />so many unavailable pieces that <br />leave holes in the heart <br />each founded piece <br />a seal of the past <br />for the present <br />the distance <br />measured in <br />bits and pieces <br /> <br />inspired by <br /> <br />Camma <br />AS one who poring on a Grecian urn <br />Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made, <br />God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid, <br />And for their beauty's sake is loth to turn <br />And face the obvious day, must I not yearn <br />For many a secret moon of indolent bliss, <br />When in the midmost shrine of Artemis <br />I see thee standing, antique-limbed, and stern? <br />And yet-methinks I'd rather see thee play <br />That serpent of old Nile, whose witchery <br />Made Emperors drunken, -come, great Egypt, shake <br />Our stage with all thy mimic pageants! Nay, <br />I am grown sick of unreal passions, make <br />The world thine Actium, me thine Antony! <br />Oscar Wilde<br /><br />john tiong chunghoo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/camma-2/
