Plain Steamed Rice

Let my poetry usher you to my photographs


January 2017

Day 31 in 2017

The forceful wind has blown the spine away 

And all along the spark is drifting away 

What is wrong? 

I don’t know.

Perhaps the fire has been quenched too. 

Nowhere to go; no one to turn to. 

Can I just drowse in Timbuktu? 

Just for a while… 

Just for a while… 


Day 30 in 2017

The red and white archipelago is the sacred heirloom,   

Where my heart and soul are rooted deeply and bloom.  

My devotion is too tenacious to be quaked,

Or to let any ignoramus stand and break

The venerable legacy that has invigorated the land.

Indonesia, my homeland. 

Day 29 in 2017

Life on air is larger and noisy,

Picturing what seems to be, 

While in reality it is less than what it seems to be. 

What are you trying to zoom in? 

Day 28 in 2017

Wishful rain is painting the Chinese New Year,

Washing away the misfortune and fear,

Watering new buds of faith to appear,

With fresh hope as fertilizer.

Day 27 in 2017

Another day of battle 

Here in the land of the unsettle. 

The hot seat makes people brittle 

While millions of eyes whistle. 

Jakarta, the land of the hopeful 

Where millions strife to be powerful;

Meekness is an oasis in the desert of the hateful.

May grace quenches the fire of the mistrustful. 

Day 26 in 2017

I went to visit the jungle 

I expected to be greeted by a tangle 

But the tiny red lights were there to spangle 

The sprouting lines of new angle. 

Day 25 in 2017

The night ride must be unwavery,

Vaulting into the battle field submissively, 

Breaking through the dark boldly, 

Bringing forth the light unfalteringly. 

Day 24 in 2017

Journaling has never been this tantalizing. 

In each moonlight you find a new you. 

The you that was unacquainted by you, 

But look forward to realizing. 
A daybook has never been this mind-boggling. 

Arousing the lioness who’s hiding 

In the corner of cluelessness, juggling 

Between making milestone, and struggling. 

Day 23 in 2017

A night discourse among the gleam,

Brings out the zeal and makes the countenance beam.

The lights as fireflies from afar, they seem, 

Sparkling on the black canvas of our dream. 

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