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Yes, my friends,
it's been a long while,
and I've come back
from the fool's paradise.
I think this time
I'm going to stay here a bit longer
to craft some verses
more ethereal and profound
than the aroma of a marigold.
Nonetheless,
as soon as I pick up my pen,
I find it has lost its rosemary perfume
of the good old days.
Perhaps,
I need to immerse myself once more
in the intoxicating melodies
of classic songs
before drawing some inspiration
and turning it into lines of nectar.
About to hit the road this morning,
on opening the door,
I was startled to perceive
that the refreshing season of flowers
has been gracing this small town for a while.
Why have I been insensitive
to the rejuvenescent power of spring?
Then I thought out loud,
"After these many years,
I'm no longer the sentimental shy boy
that I used to be in college."
Notwithstanding,
at the sight of the young green leaves
jigging in the breeze,
whereas my blooming days
were gone like the river of no return,
I couldn't hold back my tears.
I can't remember
when the last time
I was looking forward to an April shower.
If you, perchance, wonder
whether it's mysterious and romantic no more
in my mind's eye,
then, my answer would be
what's the use of waiting for the April shower
if you're a May flower
that has forgot to bloom for a long long time.
I loved "Season of Flowers". The implacable thing about aging is that not only the body gets old but their are these losses of sensibility and memory. But it´s good to be able to express these sensations of loss in a delicate poem.
Thanks, Danik, for the in depth comment.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
It's always in the wake of early springtime
when all azalea blossoms have fallen
and floated far far away
with the streamflow
that I'm nostalgic for the afterglow
on your face
which, once, was more alluring
than all those falling pink petals;
To put it another way,
they were no different
from the sunshine of my blissful memory.
Though azaleas are no longer scintillating,
yet I'll love you none the less,
love you till the end of this journey,
and love you till it's impossible
to count the number of wrinkles on your forehead.
It's not because
I prefer green leaves to flower buds
but because it's my turn
to make every second of your life worth living.
Supposing when you call on me,
instead of fancy and romance
you bring only plenty of inconvenience
and, embarrass people around me.
Is it fitting, hence,
to compare you to an April shower?
If yes,
we'd better miss
than see each other.
Thus, I have no option
but to hide you in my imagination
so that we're able to live together
forever and ever
in a world of fantasy.
At the sight of broken petals
scattering all over the wet ground,
mingling with lifeless discolored leaves
and some dried twigs,
I was extremely astonished this morning.
It must have been the heavy rain
together with the wind last night
that ravaged them relentlessly
and swept them onto the ground.
I could imagine
it was only yesterday
when those agreeable pink lasses
were dancing gracefully
with those handsome shiny green lads
in the intoxicating spring breezes.
Except feeling deep sorrow and remorse,
I could do nothing but keep going,
to making a living.
Pretty Rea,
Has anyone ever told you
that you're such a gem~
this world would be a place of torment
without you.
Well, at least, mine would be.
You look graceful
but I've never seen you being disdainful.
Your winsome smile is more dazzling to me
than all the stars sparkling in the night sky.
Unquestionably,
whenever it looms in my mind's eye,
it sure fills me with enchantment.
Last but not the least,
if your beauty is an elegant poem,
it must be
unfathomable as graceful daffodils.
By the way,
now they must be in season in your place,
I presume.
Pick some for yourself and me,
(Please send them to me in my dream.)
and you'll be a true friend of mine.
Glad to see various new poems. I mostly enjoyed "For my better half".
Thanks, Danik, for dropping by and the most uplifting feedback.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
Feeling dizzy and fatigued easily
in hot and humid weather,
I shuffled, around noon,
through a small park to the library.
I could hardly believe
it was still in the middle of April
before May flowers even paid a visit
to this small subtropical island.
It was so uncomfortable
that I started to long for ice cream
as well as the season of chilly winter.
A moment later,
it came to mind that
only a couple of months ago
I was still cursing
those biting cold gloomy winter days
and wishing
the fervent sun would drop in on us
the sooner the better.
I didn't notice
on which day of this spring
the morning glory
started climbing over the fence,
but it always brings a smile
to my heart without fail
whenever you dress in green and purple
smiling innocently to me
first thing in the morning.
Some say it's a type of weeds,
sprawling here and there,
yet I treasure you never the less.
Seeing that
I'm not a prince
nor do I own a rose garden,
why should I care whether
you're a princess or a queen?
When I was young and a bee,
how was it possible to stop me
from collecting nectar
from one blossom to another?
Isn't it in the blood to chase a cherry tree
one day,
and on another day
to befriend an almond tree?
Who could've enlightened me
that a safe and peaceful harbor
is better than all the flowery fantasy?
I feel terribly sorry
to have reassured you yesterday
that it should be sunny today?
Now, it's not merely raining
but also keeps pattering
the whole morning.
Although it's not me
but the weather forecaster to blame,
yet, sincerely,
I'd still like to express my apology
by picking some fresh rosemary leaves
and leaving them
on your dresser. Hopefully,
their refreshing fragrance
would make you oblivious
of this blue Monday morning.
It's natural
that I madly romanced you
when you were a young pretty rose.
So did easily an animal;
thus, please don't suppose
that I truly loved you then.
One day you turn toothless and plain
yet my love for you does remain,
then you can call me a real man.
There was once a man
who was hit by an airplane
while watching TV in his living room
at home.
It's not a fictitious film
but a real life accident in Formosa, Taiwan.
Now that there's nothing
impossible under the sun,
then, what is the need of worrying?
Therefore, don't worry
that the morning glory
will droop and wither in the evening
but be happy
as you'll rejoice to see more blooming
come next morning.
With April showers,
you stepped into my life,
but I was too ignorant then to perceive
that you could prove
to be the one
that would bring countless May flowers
into my humble garden.
Yes, don't worry and be happy~
it's your motto.
The moment
morning glory flowers start unfurling
we'll play badminton, sweat, and laugh
to our heart's content.
When the sun is highest in the sky,
we'll stay inside
an all-you-can-eat restaurant,
chat, and enjoy sumptuous cuisines.
Though we're unable to prevent morning glories
from drooping in the evening,
at least,
we're oblivious of the clock's ticking
when we're having a big time.
May has all but come to an end,
flower petals swirling around
as butterflies flying everywhere,
yet I still haven't crafted anything
worth remembering.
Instantly,
I reminisce
when I was at the age of poetry,
I made an attempt to jot down
the most romantic part of life.
Nonetheless,
I presumed
at that time I needed
to contemplate the universe more
before seeing life in perspective.
Now, I believe I've seen the world,
but it's regrettable
that I'm not in the proper mood
seeing that
May flowers have long
since lost colors inside my heart.
Beautiful ending:
And May is a convention after all, in my country it is autumn.Quote:
May flowers have long
since lost colors inside my heart.
All stations of life find their translation in poetry
Thanks, Danik, for your feedback, but I can't understand you mean by "convention" here. Sorry for I'm not a native speaker of English.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
I´m not native either. I am using the word "convention" here in the sense of a literary
common usage. May usually is seen as a symbol of spring and flowers, Christmas is linked to snow and winter. But there are regions on the earth where Christmas is in summer and May in autumn.
You took me by surprise when you said you're not native either. Thanks for the crystal clear explanation.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
Thanks, angliholic. Your poems read beautifully in English.
Thanks, Danik, for this praise and encouragement, which made my day and inspires me to pen more.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
It's not yet June,
but on this sub-tropical Formosa,
it's almost sizzling hot.
To take a rest in the shade of a big tree
is as good as in the paradise
especially when early summer breezes
are blowing.
However,
I can't but wonder
why I didn't pay much attention
to this windfall, this blessing
whether in winter or in spring.
Young and
innocent as a lamb,
I'd deem, once in a while,
I could handily
pin a rainbow down
whenever I saw one
just as you'd assume
you'd remain forever and ever
a pink lotus flower in June
and never expect
autumn days would come
just after it was in full bloom.
Facing the music is arduous
as eating humble pie;
Otherwise,
how could we both repent
and start anew?
Destined to Stay
When young as May flowers
you were the enigmatic charming moon,
which outshone countless stars
in my night sky.
Seeing that your graceful moonlight
is no longer glittering,
I should've left you alone
and chase after those twinkling stars.
Nonetheless,
I find
I'm reluctant to let go
simply because
I've grown used to your silly smile.
Lol! The realism of mature years substituting youthful romanticism.
Thanks, Danik, for the realistic feedback. I hope this realism doesn't devastate the charm and beauty of romanticism.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
Not at all angliholic. In art as in life the period of realism follows that of romanticism. I think it takes maturity to deal with aging and decay. It is another kind of love.
I hope I wasn´t too realistic. I forget that people from the orient sometimes take the things very serious.
It's a myth that people from the orient take things very seriously. Tastes differ as people are different.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016
I wasn't aware that
you paid a visit
on this sweltering hot afternoon
while I was taking a nap.
Only after
I opened the door,
stepped outside,
and found
the street was still wet,
was I flabbergasted at your graciousness.
You've been gracing my humble place,
bringing more hope and happiness
to me than my mistress.
Thank you for the painstaking efforts
you've made for me.
Without you,
I don't know how to survive
this inferno-like summer.
Continue to enjoy the charm found in your atmospheric poetry.
Thanks, Buh4Bee, for the nice feedback which I just read and which surely made my day. Because of your praise, I'm willing to pick up my rusty poetic pen and scribble something again.Quote:
Originally Posted by Buh4Bee
Should we have a toast
for the end of the scorching hot days
or should we sit weeping quietly
and ceaselessly
at the edge of a maple forest,
for all the young green leaves
are turning yellow?
Would you please, my friends,
be so kind enough as not to ask me?
for I don't know the answer, either.
The only thing I know is
that I've given up flying freely
in the Peter Pan's sky
for a long long time,
having long lost the privilege
to daydream from time to time.
Nostalgic verses, angliholic. Glad to read your poem in the last days of winter chill, at the brink of spring.
I wonder how much I still fly "in the Peter Pan's sky".
thanks, danik, for the kind feedback. And i guess you must dwell in australia now--weather and everything opposite to us.Quote:
Originally Posted by danik 2016
Not as far as that. I live in Brazil,in the southern part of the hemisphere.
Thanks, Danik, for the reply and in fact, I never thought you're from Brazil, which is a real exotic country to me. I'm from Formosa, Taiwan.Quote:
Originally Posted by Danik 2016