A Mini Poetry Blog
It is true that every time I write, I want you to be near. So close and so near, I’d drop two poppyseeds in both of your eyes, one is lilac-purple, another be Christmas-red, See they grow and bloom, pollinated by my gaze, showered first in morning rain then evening breeze, Next summer, I’ll come…
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In synchronicity, We found one another. In escaping, We were encircled by Shadows. When the dark ships move through melting shores, When storms surge tenfold flung up endless cyclones, I see again my bright ironical names in capital letters. In this shimmering, ever glowing and peace-finding voyage, Which wave on her way will stitch my…
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In sweet gardens each lily bright and shine, How they did spring, bud, bloom, wither and die? oftentimes, the past is just a breath away, what has named invisible is a floating sonata, persisting softly on trotting a memory awaiting, as if we’d live to all Eternity with all becoming. Yet there’s no words found…
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And life, by nature, is the most lavish feast, painted four seasons combined with five senses, bewitching skies and sweet gardens be my faves, but they are plain without a home and some love. Can I buy a Heaven’s mansion like the gods have? I’d plant dulcet Narcissus and sip summery dews, dance every cloud…
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In vain I flaunted the poetic names of Byron sort, And cited those Shelleys we now worship no more, for Fate has her own say and God must have his way, So dearest, hold tight and see my truths interplay: Of all examples by the shallow world I’d confess, I know pearls, heavenly stars, and…
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Wild bells, frosty earth, and sacred sky, Rang in the love of truth and eternal light, Once a white Christmas, you arrived this world with amber daises and dainty whimsical delight. Happy bells, stormy land, and dutiful stars, Rang in the new blood, rang out the ancient feud, On a cherry Christmas, you came silently…
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December is an aged nostalgic song, with ancient accents in delicate monotone, Aglow and behold weary souls with happy tears, And each note leads to cadence of mystical visions. Can you feel the beauty of heaven’s stars shine upon, with millions of velvet dreams flowing within you? Such is the grace of a tender prayer,…
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You are half a world away, standing right next to me, speaking silence in a dream, with lissome cherrywood and eyes as bright as sunlights on a stream. I scarcely believed one day I’d love, and to endure vicissitudes and changing seasons, But Love mimics not the falling fruit, from the withered December trees, but…
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
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The twilight of your face, the unseen meadow in your voice, drew me to your eyes’spring solace. When we hear the din of our aloneness, When we risk the change that creates and destroys, Is this the last incarnation of a sacred living breath? I grieve the deleted passage, I regret the untold truth, It…
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Your hands hold roses always in a way that reaching Far to me, when I hide, doubt, and fail to believing. And when I rise, trembling under lunar and her verdant veil, the effervescent and rainless wind blows off the ancient well, awakes my flaccid face and tears up those terrifying speeches, I feel my…
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Your smiling, or the contemplation of such, is the wondrous life force of the airy earth, Lucent as shadows slowed by wading moonlights, teaches the leaves to pause in cascading languors, And the wood nymphs now must sing and strive to dream. Their hair like willows diffuse the rhythmic monotones, Their gaze towards silken river…
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Claret sugar maple, Ginkgoes of fading gold, Now falls tenderly the last hues of autumn, Mischievously stirring a momentary discontent, from the ample bosoms of the sullen years buried, And to fright the souls again with fragmentary plights. How I wished the pearly clouds landing beside in victorious wreath, and garland of promises, Fly me…
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Here comes the surrender, to the rest of our days, When the fading song that lingers, can be contented with twilights’ caress, and calms the rains on my bewildered face… I am searching for the faraway Greenland of peace, where I might lie beside autumn’s demure rivercrest, dancing wild, shout in remorse and cry at…
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I started committing various suicides in my various dreams as a 1st grader. what kind of child was only allowed To keep tears and bruise to herself.. I started jumping down from agitated skyscrapers in my agitated dreams as a relentless crusader. what kind of crusader pursued virtual death with such unwavering passion and obsession..…
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The Modern Etiquette 