Category Archives: Poetry

Shadows

Translated…

The soul that came out of the body

Of another world

And so, that, is what shadows are, NOT a mere extension of the self in the dim light at all, a brand new way of seeing things here…

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Filed under Awareness, Creative Writing, Perspectives, Poetry

The Ears, a Two-Lined Poem

Translated…

Sneaking into an unknown tunnel

Steal the secrets

And so, that would be a very clear way of describing the organ: ears, wouldn’t it?  And the person was able to express the purpose and the formation of the ear, using just THOSE two simple lines too.

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Filed under Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Predictions

Uncertainties About the Future……aren’t We All!!!

spanishwoods

photo by Sylvia photo by Sylvia

Future Isabella, what can you tell us about the coming winter?
Will it be bitter, the bleak days echoing the quiet,
white stillness of the cold?
Or will it be mild and mellow as the oak trees bring
forth acorn tales to be told?

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Filed under Perspectives, Planning for the Future, Poetry, Story-Telling, Values, Writing

Ordering Food, a Poem

The indecisiveness of modern-day man, translated…

I want a tomato cheese burger.

Is the beef from New Zealand or Australia?

Is the tomato fresh?  Is it organic or not?

But, it’s NOT possible, for completely organic foods to exist on this planet.

What?  Don’t you know?  It’s stated online.

Can I get a hot caramel milk tea to go along with my ordered burger?

How about a Lychee Konjac Jelly ice tea?

Can you tell me again, of the promotions today? This biscuit looks nice.

Does it have butter on it?

Oh.

Then, I don’t want the tomato cheese burger now.

Does the veggie ham and egg burger meal include cheese of tater tots?

Who can hold down their “horses” when helping out a customer like this one?  I know I probably would’ve blown up in this person’s face, just make up your mind, man, how H-A-R-D is it, for you, to just PICK something OFF the menus, and, STOP mixing and matching the items already, that, is the problem, when you have too many choices in life.

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Filed under Awareness, Choices, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life

Ramps to the Freeway

Driving On and Off the Sensitive Limbs

Going in and Out Those Complex Systems

And that, would be the PURPOSE of the R-A-M-P-S to the freeways, isn’t it?  It’s a link to someplace you want to be or need to be, and, it’s a passageway you MUST pass through, in order to get to where it is you’re meant to be.

 

 

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Filed under Awareness, Creative Writing, Observations, Poetry, Properties of Life

Next to the Delusion

A requiem of poetry—a prayer for those who’d been hurt, translated…

Tonight, there was the glass lit on fire from the south

Slowly, reflected the eyes of Death

Don’t look into them, the broken rocks flying at high-speed is merely an illusion

The dreams of the propylene filling up on top of the roofs, is also an illusion

The Möbiusband slowly sloped downward

The traffic lights became tilted too: next to the sadness and the sorrows Next to the eyes, slowly, the illusions start to evaporate

You saw how the corners of the island, along the road, they all came here

They all came by, there are more and more invisible underground pipelines that showed up, to show the supports that they have for one another

The sadness, the treasuring, the distant lights turned on

And became the small eyes of the memories of that fateful night

And so, a LOT of people had died because of this explosion, and, this, is someone’s way of working through his sadness and sorrows for the loss experienced by others.

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Filed under Awareness, Coping Mechanisms, Cost of Living, Healing Process, Letting Go, Life, Lives Lost, Loss, News Stories, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Social Awareness

Dung Beetle

A poem, written by Natalia Toledo, translated…

First…

They’d shaped up the dung

Round like the full moon

They’d carried it over their heads

Like vendors who sold foods on the streets

They are finding the bottommost layer of the world

To store and hide those stuff

As if they’re keeping the dung as

A sacred heirloom

Second…

The fires are made from the land layers of the world

A soft leaf fell asleep in my eyes

My shadows are on a march

Trying to appease to my needle-filled exterior, trembling

I’d found a home in a garden

I’d carried a fly on my back, which made me into half-invisible

I have a palm made of leaves

And, everything salute itself to me

And I’d returned that favor with my rancid scent

Third…

I sat, underneath a shadow

My back is a leaf of corn, tilted downward

Sadness, it’d opened up the land

Like when it was tilled for the purpose of planting

The dust of the world

Ground, in my eyes slowly

The aroma given off by the raindrops

Stayed on the edge of the skies, waiting to fall

Fourth…

The world is darkened

The mud overflowed everywhere, rushed toward the oceans

The bluish green sun came, and it’d wiped the men’s eyes

The land absorbed its moisture from the flowers and the plants

A shake, from its crevasse

Born, the very first man

It says here, that these four poems have a special kind of taste of nature.  From the dung beetles, she’d reflected the roles of women in her era, like how the poet carries that natives’ mindset, observing the small insect, and how it’d made her feel.

So, this, is how it goes, from the origins of man, to how we are like the dung beetles, working hard all our lives, and what for?  Are our lives more purposeful than those dung beetles, after all, they ARE, lower order of animals, and, all they care about, are their survivals from day to day, and this, is a metaphor for man (human, that is!!!), after all, we all struggle in our daily living, making ends meet, run around the world like headless chickens, and we just don’t realize, how much we are actually like those lower order of species!

 

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Filed under Cost of Living, Creative Writing, Gender Roles, Issues on Gender, Life, Moods, Emotions, & Feelings, Observations, Poetry, The Observer Effect, Translated Work, Values, Women's Issues