A Short-ish Note on the Poems
/ Poetry Note by Hidhir Razak
We all have had difficult, challenging, and exhausting years before.
Then, there’s 2020.
End February / March witnessed the start of social distancing measures both in Singapore and around the world in response to the pandemic. Facial masks and toilet paper became acceptable modes of payment, hand sanitisers could only be found in the most remote pharmacies, and handwashing guidelines were being put up everywhere.
April — during which SPWM takes place every year — was the month when the full effects of the Circuit Breaker, along with a whole swath of other lifestyle changes, were being felt across not just Singapore but the world as well.
So it isn’t surprising that SPWM became a chronicle of the Covid-19 experience. It became an important outlet for members of the writing community in Singapore to express their experience and, consequently, an archive of works engaging directly with one of the worst pandemics in modern history.
SPWM has always boasted incredible talent, important perspectives, distinct voices, and literary innovation. Yet never have we seen all these creative energies and components of SPWM so collectively focused on a common subject.
For this issue, the poems have been painstakingly curated to be read in order, which is another development from the days when we anthologise SPWM works in alphabetical order.
SPOILER ALERT: The descriptions below won’t reveal too much BUT if you really want to read the poems without any preconceptions AT ALL, feel free to skip straight to the poems themselves!
“most CB ghazal ever”, Low Kian Seh: This ghazal by Low Kian Seh speaks with a strong, distinctly Singaporean voice, adopting a tone reminiscent of disgruntled uncles in the comments section of The Straits Times. With a rhyme-scheme that is playfully crafted around the initialism “CB”, the poem comes across as both light-hearted yet #relatable, with the underlying anxieties of the speaker giving depth to this personable piece.
“Shower Thoughts”, Dustin Wong: Another ghazal, this poem transforms an everyday act of ablution into a meditation on individual hurt. The thoughtful lines are segmented by backslashes, which lends a visual element to silent readers, and aural cues to anyone who reads it out loud. While exploring the abstract self, the poem’s repetition of the word “shower” anchors the piece to a lived reality, and provokes the question many might have asked each other in the past few months: “Are you okay?”
“Survival Mode”, Ummi Tasfia: This striking commentary on domestic violence, and what it might look like in an era of social distancing, draws its power from its sensitive use of imagery, which is varied and multi-dimensional, yet razor-focused on its theme and thematic statement. The lines flow organically without drawing too much attention to needless technical embellishment and instead builds in intensity by shortening each progressive stanza, culminating in the end with one memorable, and familiar, line.
“(singapore we must speak)”, Nicholas Chng: This short piece gives a timely glimpse into the loneliness that becomes further highlighted among immigrant communities, particularly within the realities of a Singapore grappling with social distancing measures that separates individuals from support systems that are outside of their homes. The subtle literary touches (the use of enjambment, the parentheses, the lack of capitalization) further evokes a pervasive silence, one that “strives, and strives and strives”.
“DORSCON PINK”, Skylar Yap: This poem sounds like what a government reminder might sound like if the civil servant announcing it had decided beforehand that they would like to quit in the most public, most memorable manner possible. The use of anaphora for key phrases such as “Do not” and, to a lesser extent in the second stanza, “Practice”, is key in creating an official-sounding notice, before they are followed by subversion upon subversion, ending with a spark of sentiment.
“20/20 Vision”, Carissa Cheow: This haiku serves a simple but sharp observation, and the play occurs most effectively in the title (which serves to remind us that yes, the title of a poem is very, very important).
“it is 6am and all I have is the last meme you sent me”, Jocelyn Suarez: This moving confessional piece by Jocelyn Suarez explores the comfort one finds in another by using vivid, intimate images. Tender and heartfelt, this piece functions as an ode to human connection and its power to traverse distance. The sensitive use of enjambment to create punchy line-breaks also constantly surprises and delights readers without taking away the underlying emotions that drive the lines.
“Curse of the Send Button”, Geraldine Yeoh: This light-hearted piece is in response to a very interesting prompt: Natalie Wang’s Day 29 prompt, which reads: “Write a poem that is a curse on your enemies.” In this era of work-from-home and digital communication, Geraldine has formulated a very potent curse indeed. Repeating “May you/your” in the beginning of each sentence (what we in the biz call ‘anaphora’) adds a recurring rhythm that evokes chanting, casting a real curse-like vibe to the whole piece.
“Overheard”, Wahid Al-Mamun: The piece, based on “an assemblage of WhatsApp messages”, is symbolic of the age of information Covid-19 is situated in, where veracity is often sacrificed on the altar of virality. Each individual line reads like a headline, and the quick succession of each new piece of news builds upon each other, much like anxiety would.
“Resistance”, Elizabeth Fen Chen: The coronavirus here is presented as a “presence”, one that haunts and lurks, which sets an interesting tone for this poem. The speaker confronts the specter, and we can observe an arc when the piece starts from a place of despair then shifts to land on a space of hope. This was achieved through an effective question/answer oscillation in its structure. The even pacing and clear imagery also evokes a kind of clarity that so many long for in this trying time.
“Rendang Recipe”, Al Hafiz Sanusi: One of the few poems in this issue that doesn’t directly reference Covid-19, this piece is a great reminder that as we grapple with the changes brought about by the pandemic, there are still things that remain constant for many: family, food, home, love. This confessional is a great response to “The Blessings Prompt” and traces beautifully the relationship between comfort and loss, between comfort and continuity.
“Dear Future Singapore Social Studies Students”, Stephanie Chan: This poem is another great example of the use of anaphora for impact; the repetition of “before you” in each sentence hooks and draws the reader in, and with each line, builds tension upon tension, before crescendo-ing into the final three lines, where the poem lands with punch and purpose.
Personally, as a poet who also had to experience some really difficult shifts in my own life this year as a result of the pandemic, reading SPWM poems this year especially has reminded me of why poetry is so important: it has the special power that art has to both confront and comfort, to hurt, then heal, to speak and, then, in turn, to feel listened to.
We hope you enjoy these poems as much as we did!