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    A Streak of Colour
    A Streak of Colour
    A Streak of Colour
    Ebook304 pages1 hour

    A Streak of Colour

    By Winter Frostt

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    About this ebook

    These are not just poems written by an average teenager. These are not even poems. These are slices, samples and bite-sizes of thoughts of a strange teenager. These are words arranged in a straight-forward fashion. These are voices asking to be heard, not necessarily asking for agreement, but would enjoy some affection. Some of them are love poems that contain traces of cheese and corn. Others are abstract ideas, images, miniatures of the landscape within a person's mind. Again some are stories, speeches and plain mockery. The poems are divided in to sections of 11 colors, all in appropriate colour moods and themes. In a sense, it is a language-palette as well.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPartridge Publishing Singapore
    Release dateJan 7, 2013
    ISBN9781466931602
    A Streak of Colour

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      Book preview

      A Streak of Colour - Winter Frostt

      Copyright 2012 Winter Frostt.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

      ISBN: 978-1-4669-3158-9 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4669-3159-6 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4669-3160-2 (e)

      Trafford rev. 12/05/2012

      TFSG-logo_BWFC.psd www.traffordpublishing.com.sg

      Singapore

      toll-free: 800 101 2656 (Singapore)

      Fax: 800 101 2656 (Singapore)

      CONTENTS

      RED

      PINK

      BROWN

      ORANGE

      YELLOW

      GREEN

      BLUE

      PURPLE

      BLACK

      GRAY

      WHITE

      For my family: my mother, my father and my sisters.

      A Streak of Colour

      A streak of colour

      My Life and My Mind

      It is what I am:

      A streak of colour-

      A sound of colour,

      A streak of colour.

      -Winter Frostt

      How To Use This Book

      These poems were written for you, me and everybody else. Read it, don’t hesitate. Then tell me how you feel about it. Hate it, scorn it, curse it, criticize it. Or laugh, smile and put wrinkles round your eyes as you flip the pages. Cry, wet the pages with a few tears, let your heart be moved. Love it, like it, share it, tell everyone about it. Hate it, better yet still, tell everyone about it.

      Write your name on the cover, it is yours. If someone gave this book to you, don’t erase the name, write yours again. Then when you pass it on, this book will collect names. It will see faces, it will hear voices and read minds in the same fashion you read it.

      Make yourself a mug of hot chocolate, tea or coffee when you decide to take this book out to read. It is very good for when you have time. Just take one poem out, read it and think about it. Wonder if it’s true, wonder if it’s not. Wonder why I wrote it, wonder why I bothered to wrote it, wonder why I wrote it that way.

      These are not really poems, not really poetry. These are pieces of my mind and heart—I believe pieces of yours as well. But fear not if it shares naught in common with you, for differences cohere just as well as similarities. These are science experiments of the English language. These are rambles of thoughts and thoughts of rambles.

      They are separated by colors, the poems. Not to emphasize segregation, but they make up palettes of the English language. Maybe not complete, but it still does. They are to be viewed all together as one big union. They rely on each other, yet each is like a diamond. To make myself clear, a diamond chest would not be a diamond chest if there were no diamonds in it, yet each diamond is beautiful on it’s own. This is a book of poems, my chest of diamonds.

      By all means, do enjoy this book. These were not written with rules in mind, these were not written to please the standard of poetic-ness, let alone please poetry connoisseurs. These were written for the sake of writing, for the sake of poetry itself.

      Read it half way and quote me on it. Take lines you love and scribble it down in your diaries, notebooks, sketchpads, tweet about it, illustrate it. Dictate it, read it out loud. See it as a picture and things like that. Open your mind a little bit and don’t be skeptical. For you are free to hate on them when you like, and they are always here to dip themselves in buckets of your love.

      Listen to music as you read. Take care of this book as you wish. This is meant for you and I hope it fulfils your purposes. Carry it out around, bring it everywhere, show it to your friends and family.

      These are sort of simple poems, not very hard to read. Some words are repeated, used over again in different shape and sizes, different hues and tones, recycled till it cannot be recycled. Some of them are really short. Some of them are pictures, tableaux, miniatures of landscapes and situations. Some of them are ideas, abstract, emotion evokers. All of them try to reach out to you and your heart. Try to communicate with you. Some of them are riddles and questions, none rhetorical. Most of them are pretty corny and full of sap, but I like it that way. Why can’t life be corny anyways?

      If there were any way to use a book, it would be to read the instructions and follow it. If there is none, the simplest step is to open the cover, read till the last page.

      Then, what is there to know about me?

      My name is Winter Frostt. I am Samuel Cho. Winter Frostt is a section of my mind, dedicated to writing poetry, reading poetry, loving poetry and appreciating it. Winter has written this book and not I. All these ideas are his and not mine. Winter is chosen as a name for this persona of mine, for no apparent reason. In fact, an actual game was held to select a name for my persona.

      I believe each person is like a globe, with countries for personas (not personalities), each country contributes to the global economy and politics. Each country has their dominant season. The globe is constantly spinning and takes its turn on showing its face. I don’t believe in ‘sides’. There are no sides, just lots of perspectives on a globe. For if you stood in front of me with a globe in between us, you would see something else as well as I. These poems were written when Winter was dominant. I find it rather symbolic that the season of winter be used as my pen name. They were written within span of 2010-2012.

      Winter started writing when he realized he could not speak for himself. He could, but that would bring a lot of problems. Winter didn’t like problems. So he resorted to these poems, writing them whenever he could and felt like it. He never thought arranged lines of English words were poetry. But in ‘A Streak Of Color’, there are some poems which he never thought were poems till he studied literature. It became my side passion to let Winter take dominion over my mind every once in a while. Winter never wrote to please, never wrote for anything else but to clear his mind. Today, as you pick this book up, you will be sharing some of Winter’s valuable thoughts. He is finally sharing his message, speaking for himself. Yet, they may be singular thoughts and biased and close-minded and hypocritical in nature. Still, he is voicing them out regardless. If you share his opinion then Winter is glad that he has reached you. If you don’t, please do not hold Winter responsible for being ignorant. These poems were not written by me, but by Winter Frostt.

      As for me, my name is Samuel Cho. I am from Brunei Darussalam (sounds Narnian to you doesn’t it?). It is a country East of Singapore, full of oil and peace with a really

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