Category Archives: Poetry

In the eyes of Me.

about a wodewose

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Wild, wondrous, curious, alone

There sits a wodewose wistful

Like a dejected lovelorn faun

Mocked, pocked, painful, woeful

pining for the music that lovers

play like two birds that tweet.

Alas, even love looks with the eyes

Not with the heart and the mind

Wrapt in his woolly hide.

Author’s Note: I came upon this very interesting medieval fantastic creature called “wodewose” yesterday on Twitter. A wodewose is defined as ‘a wild man of the woods whose predator is interestingly Alexander the Great. He is often depicted in various medieval paintings as a woolly man trying to woo a beautiful woman to no avail, even with a fatal consequence because he is seen jabbed, clubbed, or axed by a knight on the stead. So, I take pity on this unfortunately lonely creature whose appearance barred him from falling in love. You may say I am a champion of underdogs. Then, so be it. I think sometimes, there’s a lot to think about and talk about losers.

 

Sheep may safely graze

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I look at the blue sky

And see the wind

Carry a herd of clouds

Like a ghost shepherd

Skybound, westbound,

As I’m earthbound, spellbound.

 

Author’s Note: I always regard the cloud as the sheep in the sky ranch as if the wind being a phantom shepherd or cowboy were driving them into a glazing pasture where they can graze peacefully on the celestial meadow under his watchful eyes. Watching the moving clouds always amazes me as a nature’s panoramic play of wonder.  

primal scream

my poem


Don’t go easy with the crowd,
Charity is an empty gesture;
Humanity is a risible caricature,
For they will rip your heart off. 

False smiles, vain expectations;
The abused that weeps alone
Asks the heart what it knows. 
Shout and shout it aloud!

The pain makes you bleed
The shame eats you alive; 
Don’t go easy with the crowd. 
Shout and shout it aloud! 

backstreet blues

 

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The uneasy head with a crown,

But his crown is not ours.

The throne breeds caterpillars:

The court becomes rotten.

Still we depend on Fortune,

Carrying men’s burden

Till death comes as Physician.

 

Author’s Note: I read today’s Reuters article about an old African-American barber in the northwestern suburb of Detroit who said that Impeachment is not really a ready remedy to ease everyday man’s daily struggle with life. What concerns him more than this national headline is how he survives with a paltry daily income in harsh reality. I think it pretty much sums up a general opinion on the political pandemonium. Such stoically cool outlook on the political scene has been constant of ages, regardless of race and culture. Surely, Aristotle said that if you are not interested in politics, you must be either a beast or a divine being. But did he in fact include the ordinary folk? It has always been the common people whom the powers-that-be use as their henchmen for political hegemony. The current impeachment news only tangibly matters to the politicians and their ilk. Apart from the universal news about the epidemic Coronavirus, the article lingers in my mind with the vista of the hardworking old barber doing his daily duties to make his living in his small barber shop.

Aquarius

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It’s the stars that make you Ethereal Wanderer

Making you of Air that breathes Independence,

Fire that lights a Spark of Curiosities

Dew that wells Spring of Senses

and Spirit with Beautiful Diamond Eyes

riding on the Radiant Meteors evermore.

 

Author’s Note: This is my tribute to all whose stars are met in the Aquarius, the Beautiful Drifters. Let’s celebrate!