Category Archives: Poetry

Old Things, a Poem

How nobody can rid themselves of what’s already happened in their, lives!  Translated…

The Mixed-and-Matched Print Patterns of the Night

In the Mirrors, You’d Noted Your Backside

And What it Had, Weathered

Pretentious Mirror, with Millions of Spaces, and Times

Those Who were Amiss, Returned to Here

Tried to Patch Things Up, You and Your

Lines Were Off.  In the Staged Scenes

like these!

painting from online

Dancing Like Out-of-Line, Continued Moving Toward the Distances

Describing the Old Items

Farther Back, an Abandoned Building

You’d Longed for Solitude

There Was, a Tiny Chunk of Metal

Clung onto Your Skin

So, these are, the old things, that you want to be rid of, but somehow, they’d always, stuck on you, and you can’t figure out why!

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Filed under Life, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Things Left Behind

I’d Become Bones for You on the Way……

On death and dying, translated…

The rains, they’d not come as much as past years.  Every time it’d rained, the smell of the rain, got into the air, cut me off from my concentration.

The rainy seasons.

The sights that were burned by the sun, became the multilayered dimensions under the rain.

The sounds of the rain.

The sounds of the rain pouring down put out the calls of the cicadas, the barks of the stray dogs, and they focused on pouring down hard, wet my poetry too.

The scenes in the rain.

It’d made me realized my three-dimensional, the me that’s currently breathing, not the me that’s, wandered off.  The space I’m in, the lungs that were filled and emptied, the wild lilies that bid farewell to their stamens, with their colors brighter now.

Only a sudden onset of rain can achieve this.  The sun’s rays made all of these too matter-of-fact, in the eastern side of this island, with a lot of sunshine, he was the collective of the dark clouds gathering up in the skies; the foot of the clouds hiked over the Central Mountain Range, gathered enough precipitation, with its full stomach, arrived to the plains, then, suddenly, the rumbling, and let it all out, made this, seemingly, extra-ordinary thunderstorm.

photo from online

The timings of rain.

The rain became stationary in that sense of time.  The heavens, earlier, already, lifted up the curtains of rain, drenched those on the western side of the mountains.  We start falling, in the time zone differences of the rain.

On my way to the café, the rain hit the twenty-three ribs of a city in Hubei.  One of ribs had fallen and gotten lost on the roads, and it’d sung loud in the pouring rain.

And, this is very imaginative, there’s that sense of freshness that this writer gave to death and dying, and the rain symbolized the renewal from death, of how things still keep on going, as deaths are happening, all around where we live right now.

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Filed under Creative Writing, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life

Parents, Still Living, a Poem

Spending time with one’s own parents, translated…

The Central Mountain Ranges, Distant

Three-Thousand Years-Old, Thirty Thousand Years Old…………

My Parents & I

The Three of Us Combined

Only a Total of Two Hundred Fifty Years

We’d Shared Two Cups of Coffee

A Piece of Light Cheese Cake

My Father is Alive, My Mother is as Well

like this???

gathering together with one’s own parents to spend more time with them…photo from online

I on This Autumn Afternoon

Helped Her Clean Out the Stainless Steel Water Bottle She Used

Like a Small Hill,

I’d, Placed it Back, onto, Her

Dresser Drawer

And so this is on parent-child relations, the child is an adult, and s/he is realizing the importance of spending more time with her/his parents, because, they’re aging fast, and, if s/he doesn’t take the time, then, time will, run out!

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Filed under Expectations, Life, Observations, Parent-Child Interactions, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Values

Cleared Up, a Poem

The moments before sunrise, when you’re, slowly, waking up, translated…

The Face is an Awakened, Orange


The Rainbow in the Pothole

The Tar Road that’s Mushy

The Shadows of the Cats & the Dogs

Trimmed to Uneven

The Awkwardness of the Faces

The Moldy Oranges, the Silver-Colored Fungi, the Brass-Colored Fungi

The Beards, the Sideburns, All Spotted & Gray

The Tattoos on the Arms

The Fish with the Flowers, with the Birds

Halfway in April, Half-Drunk Bottle of Wine

and this, is what the, family, became…pieces, with the, jagged edges on them, photo from online

Half the Tears

Half of the Brothers Karamazov

The People in the Rusted Photo Frames

With the Smoke Rings,

The Black Eyes………with the Times Running Loose & Around

My Father Sat Opposite from Me

My Mother Wiping the Windows, the Branches were Twisting Around

The Nest of the Warbling White-Eye, the Queen of the Night Slowly Withered Away

Without a Single Word

As the Skies Turned Light

And so, another night’s ended, and, you and your families had, sat in silence, and all that transpired between you and your family members is, the tick-tocking away of that clock on the wall, no words of exchange, and everybody going about her/his own life, like, strangers…

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Filed under Family Dynamics, Life, Parent-Child Interactions, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, White Picket Fence

But It’s Our, Bodies…

You Say that Roe vs. Wade is MURDER

But it’s Our, Bodies…

That at Conception, there’s, Something that’s Alive Inside

But it’s Our, Bodies

You Tell Us, that it’s Un-Christian, to Take a Life

But it’s Our, Bodies, Carrying Those, “Lives” (are they really noted as living at the moment of, conception???)

It’s just Not Right, that the Government Now Controls Over ALL of Our (Women’s) Reproductive Rights

But WHAT Can We Do?  We are Now, Second-Class Citizens of the Free World Here

And We Can Only, Allow the Government to DICTATE WHAT is to happen, and what isn’t to happen, with our bodies

Now Consider this:

Would this have happened, if it’s the MEN we’re talking about?

Of Course N-O-T!  ‘Cuz YOU LOSERS ain’t got what it takes to carry your babies, unless, you’re all, seahorses, sea dragons, but your not, or, are you all, kangaroos, with them, pouches here?

Of course NOT!

And you TAKE away the RIGHTS of our bodies???

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Filed under Abuse of Power, Basic Human Rights, Perspectives, Poetry, Pro Life vs. Pro Choice, Right to Life, White Picket Fence, Women's Issues

The Stranded Ark

How nothing stays the same, in the baptism of, time, translated…

The Stars that Lost the Precisions in Words

The Boxes, Flooded by an Overflow of Emotions

The Stars that We Can, No Longer, Hear

The Roses, that Became, Blurred

The Mix-and-Match of the Words

Waiting for the Sharpened Knives to Get Them Edited

the progressions of, life

found online

Cutting Off All the Excess

To Make Things Less, Complex

The Wind Can’t Recognize the Banners

The Cloud Can’t Decipher My Mind

That Ark Made of Words, Stranded

Expecting the Rise of Tides of Inspiration

The Musical Instruments Stopped Playing Now

And Took with Them, the Ripples Like the Poems by that Boat

There’s, that light scent of, loss here, of how things are gone so quickly, of how we can’t hold onto time, no matter how much we wanted time to slow down, it just, doesn’t.

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Filed under Life, Maturation, Old Age, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Things Left Behind

Weather Forecast: Sunny Skies

How we should, live our lives, disregarding what trials may come later on in our lives, living in the moment, enjoying life itself, a poem, translated…

The Weather Forecasts Said that the Fronts Hadn’t Arrived

It’s a Sunny Day

I’d Cleaned Up the Windows in the Winter Sunshine

like this…

from online

On that Crystal Clear Morn

Caring Less How the Rain, the Wind Will, Dirty Them Again

And so, this is how it goes, despite the weather forecast, you still decided to clean up the windows, because you wanted a clearer view to the outside world, and even if the rain came later on, it’s okay, because, at least, you got that look through that cleared window from before…

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Filed under Attitude, Expectations, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life

We Don’t Got NO Rights!

We Don’t Got NO Rights

No Rights Over Our Bodies

No Rights Over What We’re Supposed to Think

We Don’t Got NO Rights

We are All, Slaves to the Misogynistic World that We’d Been, Born into

despite how hard those who came before us, fought too hard!

photo from online

We Don’t Got NO Rights

No Rights to Speak UP & Out

‘Bout What We’d Been Through

‘Cuz They’ll All Just, Try &, Silence Us

We Don’t Got NO Rights

Because We’re Women

Because We’re, the

Lesser Sex

Because MEN Want Control

We Don’t Got NO Rights!

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Filed under Basic Human Rights, Gender Inequality, Issues on Gender, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Right to Life, The Fate of a Woman, Wake Up Calls, Women's Issues

The Reveries of Springtime, a Poem

Despite how messed up the world is, things that stayed constant: the sun, the season, the moon that pulls the tides, and that is all we have, to rely on, to help us all through these, difficult times, of our, lives, translated…

Who Can Get a Bouquet of Flowers for

And, Switch it on the Bright International Dateline

As a Decoration of that, Belated, Justice

I Shall Use My Naked Spines to Give Back to

despite this…

photo from online

That Fire Filled March of Hopes & Dreams

Love is Nothing More than the Vending Machine Sales

Freedom Came, a Bit Later than the Springtime

All that’s Needed is a Bouquet of Flowers

I Will be able to Pretend, that the World is, Beautiful

The Skies Too Bright

And Those Children Who were Lost, are Cute, and Naïve

Who Can, Buy Me, that Bouquet of Flowers

To Switch it onto the International Day Line During the Springtime

the constants of, the universe is still, ongoing…from online

And so, this still just showed, how the seasons still come and go, despite how messy this world currently is, just because so many had died in war, in the outbreaks, the globe still turns, that, would become, the only, constant there is, in everybody’s life here!

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Filed under Life, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Tragedies in the World, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence

That Child Who’d Not Died, in War, a Poem

On how the children in the population, the most innocent people of ALL, are hit, the hardest, in the wars between the countries, translated…

Because the Father Who Survived, Still Held onto His Tiny Body

Because the Father Who Survived, Still, Kissed Him on the Cheeks

Because the Father Who Survived Still, Whispered into His Tiny Little Ears, Telling Him the Secrets

Because the Father Who Survived Still Looked Carefully, Upon His Tiny Eyes Shut Tight, Using His Tear

Using His Love—I Knew

from the war in Syria, photo from online

This Won’t be the Final Time in His, Life

I Know

He’s, Still, Alive

As are, All the Young Children of War

They’re All to, NEVER, Die in the Wars

I am, the Father of Two

And so, this, is how wars impact everybody who is living in it, whichever side you’re on, you will, suffer these losses, maybe not directly related to you, because you’re lucky for now, that nobody you love died already, but, all around you, there’s, DEATH, despair, and seeing those who’d lost their own young to the wars that the people never selected to fight, it’s just, unfair, but what can you do?  Nothing, you can, do nothing.

here’s the latest, children of war in the Ukrainian-Russian conflicts…

their faces still, very, innocent…photo from online


Filed under Awareness, Life, Loss, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Poetry, Properties of Life, Right to Life, Social Awareness, Tragedies in the World, Wake Up Calls, White Picket Fence