Goodbye Yeye (30/05/1912 – 24/05/2016)


“Goodbye Yeye” by Esmond Ng 24/05/2016 © Copyright

As I watched the air drawing its breath from you,
I leaned in and told you “I love you,” twice.
Like a fulfilled battery stilling a needle hand,
My goodbye was halted unexpectedly.
Whilst the heat on your cheeks left coordinately haste,
I gently lifted your head and ran my comb through your already neat whites.
No longer would I be pushing you to the hairdresser’s now;
No longer would I get to see your mirrored smiles.
I write as though I loved you so,
But truth be your love for me much more.
Though I gazed only upon the candled cake,
Yours was always only on my face.
Thank you Yeye for bearing me this thirty-seven years with,
And for loving me unconditionally.

~ Ah Mond


Henry Ng (08/08/1947 – 03/04/2012)

Dad and I

Dad and I

“Henry Ng” by Esmond Ng 24/05/2016 © Copyright

We had a few scares quite before this,
Nurses call’d to quick, come him see quick.
The alert, this time, follows through,
His breath last, my Dad into Heaven pass’d.

I thought prepar’d was I was,
For he’d defi’d death 3 years elong.
When all had predict’d life of year half in him,
What more, how longer much could we have entreat?

But I was wrong.
Whether foreknown or abrupt it comes,
Nothing prepares you for a kin’s repose,
Nothing gets you ready for your blood’s loss.

I didn’t cry; not then.
I told myself a relationship we hadn’t had.
Maybe he was never there, or maybe Love I had never felt,
Maybe it was something I had conjur’d, had made up.

But he was there when I was born,
Beaming ear to other, holding me in his arms.
He was there when took I my steps first,
And words utter’d in such random firsts.

He held me up to God at the Baptism service,
He’d probably too was first, to for me tears shed.
He was there to help with all my childhood cake candles,
And he was there when mom came cane-charging choler.

Dad was there, how not manag’d to see I it?
Heck, he was there at my first dental visit!
He was the first to put a hanky in my pocket, something which I still do carry,
He had even taught me to ride my red bicycle at our very first picnic.

You should have seen him when topp’d I my class,
Or when he boast’d to others my horrid guitar strums.
All would know if I did anything well, relatives and neighbors,
Why didn’t I make him more proud, just a little more proud?

When I bought my bike verboten, he shook his head and got me a car,
When I bump’d it, he never once accomplish’d a single sound.
He sav’d on everything but not on me did,
Flight’d me away to Aussie for studies, Crikey! Indeed.

Even when we fought and shout’d at other each,
Nothing ever stay’d sour’d for very long.
He provid’d and gave but never asked for return anything,
He gave me his Love, how could I not have notic’d?

We did a number of things together, together,
From karaoke to washing the car to hitting the gym strong.
How did we end up like this, distanc’d and dissociat’d?
Why hadn’t I, had not effort put in enough?

Retrospect, surely our relationship, not estrang’d,
I seem mistaken, he was there no doubting it.
His actions ensu’d no reason other but Love,
Least I forget, Dad was Dad all along.

I bet there’s way more he did than I can here in speech,
And now he’s gone, I cried eventually, what good is it?
Perhaps in another decade half him I’ll again see,
Perhaps then we could redo what we’d miss’d.


A Line, Maybe Two.

“A Line, Maybe Two.” by Esmond Ng 26/03/10 © Copyright

When the Orange looks dull,
And the skies oft grey.
It may start even raining; pouring,
On your dismay’s head.
In a line or two I hope to you pray,
That there’s light whilst you forward brave.
Cos lurking is there surely always,
Hidden Rainbows not so far ahead.



Jero’s Operation

Poor Jero put on drip

Poor Jero put on drip

It was a really nerve-racking weekend for me. This is the second time Jero had to go under the knife for the same affliction; stones in his bladder.

I was told that he had a higher risk as the length of anesthesia was longer this time round due to the seriousness of his condition. To make matters worse, there was a complication during the surgery.

They had to first inject fluid through his privates to “pump” the stones from his urinary track back to the bladder in order for removal. Unfortunately there was too much pressure and his bladder ruptured! OMG!

Luckily, the doctors managed to sew the ruptured bladder back, saline flush his abdominal cavities and remove the stones smoothly. Actually I was really pissed. However, the important thing was that he was alright. Imagine the fright I had when they told me his bladder had “burst”.

After spending 3 days hospitalised and 1.9K in bills, he was finally fit to go home. I’m telling you: “This is verily the longest itemised receipt I’ve ever received!”

He’s doing alright now that he’s been home for 2 days; running around and trying to beg for food again. It’s pretty amazing he’s that active actually.

Bet he’s going to shiver again at the vet’s this Sunday for stitch removal. I just want to thank God for watching over my little Boy.


“The Slumber Baby”

“The Slumber Baby” by Esmond Ng © copyright 05/02/06

Was cruising on the expressway last dark,
Soft the radio croons my favorite tunes.
There on not my right but left be,
A slumber baby midst in her dreams.

Were they sweet saccharine sugary?
The cloudland I pray not too cloyingly.
For revel I in her faerie form in silent sleep,
Not to wake but in still repose I enjoy see.

Admit I that lonely the drive not be,
For alongside me a little slumber baby.
And those stolen glances occasionally at she,
That the journey no longer seems a journey.

Such enchanting company; the slumber baby.


From my eyes

Poor thing. (Image used with owner's permission)

Poor thing. (Image used with owner's permission)

“From my eyes” by Esmond Ng © copyright 14/11/05

From my eyes,
Bustling profuse on streets.
Yet no one turns twice to see,
The agony I terrible be.

Stricken; injured leg I laid,
By the bin eyes so wretchedly.
None to hear my mewls aid,
None to helplessness I can relate.

From my eyes,
All caught up in own busy day.
How so no one to avail my pain?
Seems compassion yesteryear a trait.

For I am exposed feeble,
Without human speech and expression.
Without which I am prostrated,
To Death a certitude fate.

Although stray my parentage,
I am living and with filled feelings.
I am just a little kitten impoverished by strain,
Just a kitty, please on me have pity.