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We're all playful green leaves
for our mother is a tree
a maple tree living in a small town
on the other side of a mountain
Though she recognizes only a few words
she does read those clouds well
To bear and raise us
she has tasted all kinds of weathers
The season when we're most colorful
is the season when she's young no more
Maybe we're going nowhere
yet, for those lost butterflies in gloomy autumn
we'll paint a yellow brick road
Formosa, I love you.
You're my playground,
my schoolyard,
my inspiration,
my battlefield,
my retreat,
my castle,
and my beloved Mother.
Formosa, I love you.
Perhaps it's a mistake
that we came to this world, for
the road between us seems long and rugged.
Perhaps we lived in a remote green village
before this life,
you spinned your yarn then,
and I--
I was busy growing rice in the field.
Perhaps we shall meet again soon
after this life when we won't be tied to the ground,
for our spirits are free to be everywhere.
If you still feel lazy from the summer heat
I'll turn myself into a falling leaf
to knock at your window
and to let out
the most gorgeous season is here to stay now
so that you may open your heart
like your eyes
to feel the golden hues
gradually taking over the green rice field
as well as the forest on the hill
Summer wind has gone
traveling far
running after spring shadow
and leaving behind
only heart shaped withered leaves
dreaming of flame trees
once blooming in an exotic land
A smart-alec monkey once encouraged his young fellow men
not to be high-ranking officials in the government
but to sacrifice themselves and do something for their country
and many innocent young did buy his story
As a consequence
there were few to compete with him for the throne
so he could own a harem of young wives and concubines
privileged by his power and money
What a cunning monkey
He who asked others to sacrifice their pleasures
might enjoy their sacrifices
Whenever you smile to me
you fill my world with rosy clouds
an instant turns eternal beauty
Frogs frogs frogs ...
Do you croak so noisily
like politicians
the whole night through
simply
over some trivial mosquitoes
Or do you feel forever lonely too
though surrounded
by millions of your folks
If so
then I'm willing to compromise
my serenity
An ancient windmill
on a hill
a white dove
on a wooden cross
the wind is blowing
the blades are spinning
and a river is gurgling
through a meadow
I woke up to a cool morning today,
hearing little birds chirping a farewell tune.
Guess they're leaving for the warmer south!
If only I could travel with them,
I'd float like a fallen leaf on a clear stream
to a far-off tropical island.
gaze up at nothing but the fluffy polar bears
sauntering high above the blue sky,
then gently close my eyes,
and quietly daydream my life away.
It was in the season
when morning glories were in full bloom
that we came across each other
Like two lines once crossing each other
you've gone your way
and I mine
While the leaves are changing colors and fading
my heart is getting colder and colder
I haven't thought about you for a long while
to say nothing of dreaming of you
Since it's impossible for us to get together again
why not let our story drift away
with the summer breeze
Ahead of me, only birds' chirping
behind me, autumn's gently breathing
scattered on this shady path
were a few blurry footprints
like missing pages of some unread stories
My mind is more cloudy than the evening clouds
in the western sky
my feet as weak as jelly
longing for a rest
How I wish to be the bird in the tree nearby
perching comfortably in its cozy nest
Perhaps
I'll sit in a pavilion on the hillside
waiting for the cicadas to play their finale
for the maple trees to turn yellow
for all the leaves to float like falling snowflakes
and for the spring to grace this land again
If your beauty is a rainbow after the rain
let me bear the pain in the rain
If you're a butterfly in flight
let me be the caterpillar
a thorn in the eye
If you're lovely morning sunlight
l'm willing to be the lonely night
When autumn is also drunk
with the sweet golden wine of the setting sun
and falling down within its own colors of flame maple trees
a smirking wind nearby
witnessing all this
starts laughing and swirling a wood of falling leaves
into a shower of flying colorful confettis
Yesterday it was still breezy
now it's snarling and growling like crazy
And the day before yesterday
it rained like cats and dogs all the way
if memory serves me right
nothing seemed all right and bright
How can I expect a sunny tomorrow
now that I'm fed up with so much sorrow
Who was the naughty urchin
that splashed green paints everywhere in spring
and set off a kaleidoscope of fireworks all over the meadows
Now
who is this melancholy girl
that's starting to cry the sky blue
and sprinkle gold dust all over the lands
dousing the flaming passion of summer
See
all the woods are weeping
and yellowing
I'm a narcissus that doesn't bloom
never obsessed with my own reflection in a pond
for I'm not so fragrant as perfume
On the contrary people have bad breath
after eating me as food spice
But they still love me
for I'm good for their body
Who am I
After weaving myself a cocoon
I did own a small cozy room of my own
yet I felt so lonely and alone
As soon as I cut it open
and climb out as a butterfly
in the distant sky
the sun is rising above the horizon
I went to see my little kids in the garden this morning
and refreshed them with clean water
They were growing much taller and greener
and this was extremely uplifting
When I came back home later
I couldn't remember where I left my worry
Maybe it was still lying in the field beside a small river
where the sun shone brightly
Is it the summer passion
or autumn breeze
that transforms my world into a lotus paradise
dripping with pure white peaceful purple
and soothing blue delight
Not long ago
I still remember there was nothing
but mud with troubled water
right in the center of the pond
When trees begin to put on red and purple
I'll write down my longing for you
on a maple leaf
drop it in the air and wish
a gentle breeze might send it
into your dream
It's not the howling wind outside
or the freezing drizzle
accompanied by the strongest ever cold front
that sends chills down my spine
but your wintry eyes
your indifferent heart
and your silence
The night isn't young any longer
and the weather's getting colder and colder
Having turned off the light and hit the straw for a long while
yet I just toss about in my bed
like a seed in the mud
looking forward to the snow's thawing
and wondering whether it'll be able to sprout again
when another spring comes along
I like this one best, angliholic. Nothing hurts worse than indifference.Quote:
Originally Posted by angliholic
Thanks, qimissung, for reading and the kind words.Quote:
Originally Posted by qimissung
Happy New Year to you
My dear friends
Let's raise a toast to the new year
for after tonight I'm afraid
no one can come back to this very year
Let's congratulate ourselves on growing older
though not necessarily wiser
Anyway
who cares about being or not being wiser
as long as we're kind and generous to others
The sun was all smiles
on the first day of the new year
whereas the lingering cold front was
nowhere to be found
In the evening
when I was about to shout
"Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!"
I saw out of nowhere
a couple of mosquitoes showing up in my bedroom
like party-goers
ready for a big feast in the early spring
and of course
at the expense of my precious blood
and peace
To be frank with you
Well! I did enjoy their company
not in the least
When floral fragrances are no longer
floating in the air
I'll be waiting
for you
in a forest of maple trees
Imagine you are now stepping
on the far end of a rainbow
the colorful fallen leaves
walking toward me
From a fairy tale
you're now walking toward me
Waiting for You in the Icy Cold Weather
I don't really appreciate the icy cold weather
very much
If you don't show up this winter
as always
I couldn't care less
for I've forgotten the way you look
and the reason
why I love a little brook
No snow glistening
No sleigh bells jingling
January after January
Now I've learned to look for a bug here
and a worm there in the field
like many other chickens do
Although I still recall
as a fledgling
I always presumed I would take wing like an eagle
to a wonderland in winter
when fully fledged
So gorgeous is your golden hair
blowing gracefully in the wind
in the morning
Jealous is how I feel
when sunshine's caressing your chubby face
with beads of dew still clinging on
Inviting are your pure white teeth
and succulent are those cherry lips
Popping up in my head is the word mellow
Dragging you by the golden hair
into the gloomy woods is the villain
the gusty wind
You're like the pretty pixie in Neverland
and we could be meant for each other
were it not for your love bites
which are worse than those of a crocodile
I don't mind at all
whenever you bite me and suck my blood
as long as you won't leave me itching all over
or lure me into scratching the old itch
So I really regret to say that
I have to smash you
and won't let you fly away with it
even though you may conceive my babies
I've made up my mind
not to shed my tears for you
if one day
you have to bid me adieu
It's not that
I'm a reptile or made of stone
but that
I fear
they may flood your town
and drown those innocent fish
in the ocean
This place is better by your presence.
Thanks, Jerrybaldy, for your compliment and I treasure it very much because you're my favorite English poet so far.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jerrybaldy
This place is the best by your presence.
What if
no one cares to cast a glance at your poetry
Do you still firmly believe
it's not nonsense graffiti but precious jewelry
Will you keep on playing your guitar
and singing for the cow
Or will you consider picking up a butcher knife
slaughtering the cow
and throwing the pen away for life
Holy crap. You're a true believer. To write prolifically and get minimal response or validation takes umpf. Good for you.
J
Thanks, Jack of Hearts, for the recognition and praise.Quote:
Originally Posted by Jack of Hearts
Happy New Year
Btw, I post my scribbles here to file and keep them together. I also post them on other poetry forums on facebook and there I do get lots of likes and responses.
If my poetry turns out to be
an ugly duckling
plain and agonizing
please kindly dig a hole for me
and bury it gently
with some seeds of forget-me-not
Maybe
they will germinate in the spring
growing up to be soothing
delightful as the light blue sky in summer
and my world will look much better
Or maybe not
Ages ago
I can't remember exactly
at what time though
Maybe
since the stone age
my Muse has started taking painkillers
but the more painkillers
she takes
the more pains there seem to be
and the more painkillers
she has to take
and the more painkillers
she has to buy
and the more money she has to burn
and the more money I have to earn
and the more bones
I have to break to bring home the bacon
and the sooner
I'll meet my creator
To tell the truth
I don't pity these humble bones of mine
in the least
What I worry most
is that there will be no more bedtime story
if I bid you adieu in such a hurry