You'll never be gone, as long as I remember you.

How much do I know of you? Enough to write four lines?

Amanda likes purple things.
I hear it when her hp rings.
This volleyballer is my height,
When she's captain our team's all right!

Aaron refuses to be called a boy.
Diva oozes but can never annoy!
Macbeth is easy for this Queen
who lords over all that can be seen.

Audrey really loves Miko, her cat.
She is deluded, thinks she's fat.
Pineapple tarts can cheer her up,
She's a dear, really, if she opens up.

Beatrice is one multi-talented girl.
A percussionist who studies real well.
And makes lovely jewellery too,
Who would noir be but for you?

Cheryl is smart, she thinks really fast,
And can tangle you up in your own past!
She's really interesting, and as all can see,
She's way caught up in Grey's Anatomy.

Daniel, always every lady's man,
Holds the door open whenever he can.
It's really funny, the things he's said,
He laughs weirdly for things best unsaid!

Desmond loves to play the guitar,
He's the most frequent blogger, by far.
He is very generous in giving out songs,
And isn't afraid to admit his wrongs.

Diane, a girl who loves soft toys,
She has a well-accented voice.
The youngest in the school last year
Is this year's bowling captain, no fear!

Dhevy, a small girl who truly believes
That she can help to save the trees.
She's right! And her voice is sweet.
She writes stories that others can't beat.

Du Chen is girl who smiles often,
She can run fast, this information,
Is not known by many, and you,
May not know she plays the flute too!

Eileen is a girl who's far from a cliche,
Plays the piano, ice-skated for a day!
She can sing too, and wait till you hear
Her sound advice, which will erase fear.

Eugene, the class's most lame joker,
Is also of the school band a member.
Watch out if he's headed your way,
Hard-core mugging will blow you away!

Ganesh has dreams he will achieve,
Ambitions in which he can believe.
This determined guy can't be put down,
If he were a pirate, he'd be a good'un.

Henry, who's awake really early ,
with adrenaline enough to study!
He loves the songs of National Day.
And has trouble staying awake in LA.

Joel, it seems, can never be mad,
No matter what he is never sad.
People steal his phone when bored,
And he uses a wireless keyboard.

Jonathan, the fair-faced one,
Can cycle to school just for fun.
He's a fencer, so watch the stakes,
It's him, if the class vase breaks!

Olivia, the class's own vocalist,
Has lost three G2 pens, to list.
Orange & green, a perfect match,
Dreads ballgames, she can't catch!

Pearlyn, the jamba juice partner,
Selects us the wierdest flavour!
She's tough when it comes to defence,
She can't squat (Is that an offence?).

Ser En's there if you ever need tissue,
For the queer she raises many an issue.
This frencher is musically inclined,
And she is a fan of Rain, you'll find.

Shakura's a sizzlin hip-hop dancer,
Who does gymnastics with her sister.
She's always expected a little late!
But if she runs, one's left at the gate.

Shao Sheng, almost another CT rep,
He reads the papers and does his prep.
At high speeds his tongue can wag.
What came of his big billabong bag?

Subra, who enjoys playing soccer,
Be it in the field or before a teacher.
He doesn't always reply to sms-es,
But always helps known & new faces.

Thana, who's absolutely comical,
Also can be[of French]very cynical.
But he can teach German very well,
And turns boring classes pell-mell.

Wilbur gives proper names Capitals.
Makes sick jokes during definite integrals.
This sailor is an asset to every team,
But beware of his appetite extreme!

Xu Duo, only efficient librarian in IP.
A patriot who's as friendly as can be.
She is the chairman of horticulture,
And never forgets her own culture.

Yi Xiang is so "refreshingly childish".
Outraged, his mouth drops like a fish.
He bought Paris Hilton's newest,
And he dances, he says, the sexiest.

Zhao Chen, sporty, helpful and wise.
Is top in class for literature EOYs.
He is very friendly and fun too,
So go approach him if you're rue.

Zhu Li, gentle lady fair of face,
She closely analyses each case.
Uses a Chinese version of MSN,
And has a unique sense of fashion.

Whew. Managed it. Some are kinda stretched though. And some of the rhymes are forced. Sorry. I realise that I hardly know anything about some people, which is very sad after two years. But i'm not blaming any of you yea? =] You guys have been a great bunch to people to have in class! haha loves.

P.S. for readers of this post who aren't from my class, tell me if u want one and i'll write another one for you okay? =]

P.P.S. if any one of you i've written about has strong objections to what i've said, feel free to voice them. =)

Break Away

Red red lines across your back
Deepen with every stroke of whip.
Yet you lay out from that sack
Brick after brick without a tip.

Hark, you tired worker,
As you these roads pave.
Anyone can be Master,
If someone will be slave.

Rebellion is a dangerous phrase
But you, you need not fear.
Your oppressor will have to race
Away, it's his time to tear.

So hark, oh dim worker,
As you these roads pave,
No one can be Master,
If no one will be slave.

The boys I see

The white lines on the road are whizzing past. I keep rhythm with my feet. Tap tap tap, as each line passes. I stare out the window, as I always do, but the lines are getting shorter and we're moving faster. I start to miss some of the lines.

Then we stop.

I stop tapping. My feet are parallel to long white line on the road. Let them refill at this stripe, in case I miss more along the way. Someone is walking towards the seat. He pauses for a second, then sits down beside me. I don't take my eyes off the road.

We start moving again. Tap tap, goes my head. The person beside me wears a brown pant. I picture the rest of the bus without even looking. There's a group of boys who just entered. They're very noisy, and they cuss a lot. They don't seem to mind. I don't really mind either, 'cos my mind's fixed on other things. Like picturing the surroundings. Or translating the song in my head to French. I look around with my ears, and I see voices and the music of someone's blaring MP3 player. Not that I mind. I like music. And I'm still tapping.

The person beside me takes out a stack of papers. He looks like he could be from a University, judging by the rustle of papers.

I need my eyes now. They unstick themselves from the road and from my past memories, and i glance at his papers. But my feet keep tapping.

I like his handwriting very much. He has notes, written out on an unruled sheet of paper. He writes very neatly, in black, and there are yellow highlights. My eyes are fixed on his paper. I can't read the words, but I can read the writing. He's holding a pen now, and adds on to that sheet of paper. He writes very smoothly, like it's his natural instinct. His hand moves without shaking, and words appear. His skin is auburn, like he's been in the sun a lot.

He props his leg up against the seat in front. I go back to my window, 'cos he's stopped writing. I like it when the bus goes over a bump. I like to feel my stomach jump. I decide to inspect the bus more. The group of boys haven't stopped talking. One of them is talking about how he told his father he's going to his mother's office, when in fact the whole group is going to someplace else. They're innocent still, these boys, no matter how much they cuss. They get off when the MRT line comes into view.

I wish the person beside me would start writing again. He soon gets off, though. I look at his back view. It says SRJC SOCCER on his jersey.

That evening, I'm walking towards Bishan Interchange with the others. There's a group of older boys sitting at the fast-food outlet. "Bye," they call. I wonder who they are, so I look up. They must be in their early twenties. No one I know. "Bye" they say again, so we ignore them and walk away, towards the Interchange, away from their invitations of ice-cream.

As I take the bus home, I wonder why they said goodbye. And I continue tapping my feet. I won't lose the rhythm, no matter how much I think about the different boys I see.

Red Soul

Excuse me ma'am, have you realised
How uglily this red pen sliced
My poor paper right down the middle
And added a circle, what is this riddle?

It went over my neat handwriting
And now I can hardly read a thing
Of what I wrote, oh who did this?
Two hours' sleep I chose to miss!

Perhaps this red pen can slice
Not just my paper, but my vice.