since its raining heavily here in Ireland, it just reminds me of the monsoon history poem that I learnt back in secondary school. It is rainy season in Malaysia right now especially in north east of the peninsular. yeah I do drink milo looking at the rain that pouring down the city, the grey sky, the damp mood of the house. feels good I love rain
The air is wet,
Soaks bring up into mattresses,
And curls in apparitions of smoke.
Like fat white slugs furled among the timber,
Or silver fish tunneling the damp linen covers of
Quietly like centipedes,
The air walking everywhere
On its hundred feet
Is filled with the glare of tropical water.
Again we are taken over by clouds and rolling
Small snails appear
Clashing their timid horns
Among the morning glory vines.
Nyonya and baba sit at home.
This was forty years ago.
Sarong-wrapped they counted silver paper for the
Portraits of grandfathers
Hung always in the parlour.
Reading Tennyson, at six p.m. in pajamas,
Listening to down-pouring rain:
The air ticks with gnats, black spiders fly,
Moths sweep out of our rooms
built their hills of eggs and queens
zoom in heat,
We wash our
feet for bed,
uncoil her snake hair,
silver mesh aroundher waist,
father pacing the sand as fishers pull