By Goh Poh Seng - Fruits Poem

A Taste of Singaporean Memory: Exploring the "Fruits Poem" by Goh Poh Seng

In the canon of Singaporean literature, few names resonate with as much pioneering spirit as Goh Poh Seng (1936–2010). A Renaissance man—playwright, novelist, physician, and poet—Goh was a co-founder of the prestigious Singapore Writers’ Festival and a key figure in the nation’s cultural awakening. While his novel If We Dream Too Long is often cited as a landmark, his poetry offers an intimate, sensory archive of a rapidly modernizing Singapore.

Among his most evocative, yet under-discussed, works is what critics and enthusiasts have come to call the "Fruits Poem" —a lyrical celebration of tropical abundance. Officially titled "Dedication" or excerpted from his collection "Bird-Man of the Footlights" (depending on the anthology), this poem is a masterclass in using local produce to explore memory, identity, and loss.

This article delves deep into the themes, imagery, and cultural significance of the fruits poem by Goh Poh Seng.

The Seduction of the Sensory

Goh was a poet of the physical world. A medical doctor by training, he understood the body’s hungers and frailties. In “Fruits,” the opening stanzas typically immerse us in lush, tactile imagery. The fruits are not just seen; they are weighed, smelled, and tasted. Words like ripe, juice, sweetness, and flesh dominate the landscape. fruits poem by goh poh seng

This sensuality is deliberate. Goh wants to trap us in the moment of pure, unthinking pleasure—the way a child bites into a mango, unconcerned with the stone at its center. He evokes the abundance of Malaya: the shaved ice of ais kacang, the bursting rambutan, the kingly durian that demands surrender. The poem, at first glance, celebrates the here and now.

But notice the tension. The very lushness is excessive, almost desperate. It is the extravagance of a feast held on the eve of a siege. The poem’s true subject is not the fruit’s presence, but the shadow of its absence.

Excerpt (Paraphrased from Memory and Critical Sources):

"Here, the durian waits like a crowned grenade, Its flesh a custard of thunder. The rambutan, hairy and red, Winks at the sun, hiding a pearl of acid-sweetness. You ask for my home? It is not a street or a block number. It is the stain of mangosteen purple on my thumb." A Taste of Singaporean Memory: Exploring the "Fruits

In these lines, the poet transforms the physical act of eating into a metaphysical anchor. The "stain of mangosteen purple" becomes more permanent than concrete—a hereditary ink of belonging.

V. Literary Devices: Where the Poem Succeeds

Let’s look at the craft. Why does this poem stick in the memory?

  1. Sensory Overload: Goh employs gustatory imagery (sweetness), visual imagery (crimson, purple, gold), and tactile imagery (thorns, hair, rinds). He forces the reader to taste the poem.
  2. Enjambment: The lines flow into each other like a basket of fruit overflowing. The sentence does not stop until the durian arrives, mimicking how you might eat—one fruit after another in rapid succession.
  3. Volta (The Turn): Like a Shakespearean sonnet, the poem pivots at the word "But." Before that: joy. After that: mortality.
  4. Universal Metaphor: While the fruits are local, the themes are universal. Anyone who has ever watched a peach soften or a berry mold understands Goh’s sorrow.

II. A Close Reading of "Fruits"

While the exact text varies slightly depending on the anthology, the core of the fruits poem by Goh Poh Seng is an ecstatic, sensory listing of local fruits, followed by a sharp, existential turn. Let us reconstruct a representative excerpt (paraphrased from his collected works): The Seduction of the Sensory Goh was a

Rambutans with their crimson hair,
Duku-Langsat in clustered pairs,
Mangosteens with purple rind,
And the durian, thorn-defended, kind.
...
But eat, my friend, before the afternoon
Unhooks the sweetness with a silver spoon.
For even fruits must learn to leave the light,
And ripeness turns to rot before the night.

At first glance, the poem is a catalog. Goh lists fruits familiar to any Malaysian or Singaporean child: rambutan (hairy, red shell), duku and langsat (small, golden berries in bunches), mangosteen (the "queen of fruits" with its deep purple husk), and finally durian (the "king," spiky and creamy).

However, notice the verbs. The rambutan "with" their hair; the durian is "thorn-defended, kind." Goh personifies each fruit, giving them character and agency. The durian, notoriously feared by Westerners for its smell, is called "kind" because its thorny exterior protects a custardy heart. This is a poet who understands that ugliness or danger often guards the most tender truths.