The Black Cloud

This was written by JW in February 2009 under the theme War and Peace and his teacher submitted it for a poetry contest.

The Black Cloud 

by JW Lee

Crackle, crackle, crackle

The steady chatter of gunfire breaks the silence,

The acrid stench of blood fills the air,

The people moan in despair,

Crackle, crackle, crackle

The battlefield strewn with the corpses of the dead,

The wicked soldiers merciless

The black cloud of death engulfing everything,

Crackle, crackle, crackle

A river of blood flows down the valley of the dead,

The people mourn for the dead,

As the soldiers march down the valley towards ultimate victory,

Crackle, crackle, crackle

The soldiers mercilessly hack at the remaining survivors,

They burn their bodies and let the ashes fly,

The carrion birds peck at the coprses of the dead,

And let out a shrill cry,

Crackle, crackle, crackle

The soft whisper of the wind sounds like the dead are rising,

A remnant to the killing that has occurred,

The tortured souls of the dead scream in pain and soldiers regret what they have done.

My Chicken In My BMW Car

I suddenly recalled something that JW did when he was two and a half years old. But a little background first.

When he was just 18 months old, I enrolled JW in a playgroup. As both my husband and I were working, I did not want JW to be at home with Lucia, our domestic helper, all day long. So the moment he was old enough, I enrolled him in a playgroup. It started with just a few hours twice a week.

It was tough at first. He went through separation anxiety. No, correct that. We BOTH went through separation anxiety! I recall the first day when I was there with him. Not wanting to distract him, I just sat in a corner and observed. Being only 18 months old, he had already learnt how to walk. But sitting on a chair and getting off by himself was still a bit of a problem. My heart sank when he fell as he tried to get off the chair and sustained a bruise on his cheek. That was his first day at Raintree.

Raintree was housed in an old black and white colonial house set in a beautiful large piece of land . I was drawn to the lush and quiet surrounding. It was so green and peaceful, with lots of space for kids to run around in. Sadly, the school has since closed and the house is now a private residence.

The first weeks were still rather difficult and he would cry in school. According to one of his teachers, whenever he went to a particular area during his break, he would start to cry. Then one day, she realised why......there was a wall where photos taken during field trips were displayed. And there was photo of me together with him in one of the photos! Poor JW was thinking of and missing mummy....

JW was such an adorable boy that everyone in the school knew him. One day, when he was about 3, his teacher had to be away for a while and the school supervisor, Miss Joanne took over the class. When his regular teacher came back, he went to Miss Joanne and said to her, "Miss Joanne, you can go now. My teacher is back." Miss Joanne was so tickled, she told me about the incident.

Oh dear, how old memories start flooding back when I think about the early years. But back to what I wanted to write in the first place. One of JW's teachers, Mrs Surreinder, had captured what he said by typing out on a piece of paper with his drawing of a chicken. It was titled My Chicken:

My Chicken

My...My  Mrs Surreinder my white chicken is my friend. I love my white chicken. My white chicken can paddle boats. Chicken sit inside the boat and merrily merrily down the stream. Then my chicken sat in my BMW car. My chicken send car lighting store. My chicken went to the lighting store to buy car and lighting. Lightning comes first then rain will come. 

Mrs Surreinder had captured the word "lighting" but I'm pretty sure he meant "lightning" because if I recall correctly, just around that time, my brother or my dad had told him that lightning comes before thunder and that if you see lightning, it means that the rain will come soon.

Ten years on and my boy is still telling stories, but not of chickens anymore!

Lucia

Lucia was our first domestic helper. She was very young when she first came to live with us. JW was then about 15 months old. Fifteen months later, JJ arrived, 6 weeks premature. While JJ was looked after by a nanny (we felt Lucia was too young and JJ was too small to handle) Lucia took care of JW. But Lucia loved JJ very much and every morning she would play with him.

As a gift to Lucia before she left, on behalf of each of the boys, I wrote these poems. She cried when she read them. We had kept in touch for a while after she went back to the Philippines but have lost touch with her for a long time now. I do wonder how she is now.

For Lucia From JW

When you first came,
I was fifteen months old
I didn't know how to call your name
I just learned how to walk
I could hardly talk
I was still sleeping in my baby cot

(Do you remember when
I frightened you by climbing out of my cot
While you went to make my milk?)

Then I went to school
And you had to come with me on the bus
I cried when you were not with me

Now I am almost three years old
I go to school by myself
And I talk like a pro
I argue, I say "no"
I ask "Why?" all the time

I can sing and make new songs
And I can tell you stories or
What I did in school
Now I can ask questions like
"Why are you crying, Lucia?"

I will remember that you were
The first maid that took care of me
And I want you to know
That I will miss you when you are gone

Love,

JW


For Lucia From JJ

I arrived six weeks early
And weighed only five pounds
I was all skin and bones
You did not know
How to carry, feed or bathe me

But now I am five months old
And you know how to take care of me
I like it when you play with me
And make me giggle and laugh

I don't know how to talk yet
So I just want you to know that
I will miss you when you are gone

Love,

JJ