The Music Man
Posted inCreative Hall Music Poems

The Music Man

Source Its hollow bones and rusty strings, A chorus left unfinished, The singer can no longer sing, The air in his lungs diminished.   The monster reared its black head, …
Kintsugi
Posted inCreative Hall Poems

Kintsugi

Source

Kintsugi (金継ぎ, “golden joinery”), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, “golden repair”), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

Posted inCreative Hall Educational Poems

Poems: Injustice in Verses

Dedicated to all the lives lost to injustice. You will not be forgotten. We are the change we yearn, With trembling hands we fear,  Our minds will be unable to turn, From the unchanging ideals we silently discern, With wavering voices that yield to silence, As we blindly spectate acts of violence.
Posted inCreative Hall Poems

When Things Don’t Work Out: A Collection of Poems

hello? can you hear me? i've been meaning to say something even if the signal's not pretty. i don't think i can do this anymore.  i've grown tired of the city where my screams tend to evade me,  my confessional streams  poured all over the polished floors  until i ran out of dreams- i need a getaway across the seas; somewhere deep in the country  where i can still feel a breeze;  a breath of dying somewhere pretty  as if i carelessly ripped out a page  out of my half-written biography  that takes up too much of my head  until they all cooperate to collaborate  into my nameless anthology but how can i craft such a thing  when i'm not even dead? 
Posted inCreative Hall Poems

National Poetry Month: Echo Edition (Part 2)

All I Can Do by Jaclyn Heng This is for the times I’ve had to keep a count of the number of days that went by without me getting whistled at or getting looked up-and-down while walking from my car to the BRT when travelling to college each day. A mere 7-minute walk and yet the Days I Did Not Get Catcalled count never reached a number where I needed more than my own two hands to count.  This is for the one time I sent a middle-finger to a man whistling at me from a lorry, on a day that I’d had enough. I told my parents about it and immediately got told off for being vulgar, then spent the next week using a different route to college in fear that that same man would come back for revenge.  But most of all, this is for all you girls out there who don’t even get to feel safe when walking alone on a street.  This should not be the way we have to live, yet it is.