Category Archives: Poetry

In the eyes of Me.

poesie #

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When the night gently descends upon the day on the earth’s bed

And he silences her secretly with a force of darkness

Whispering softly in delirium, murmuring faintly in fever

blinding her with an extraordinary frisson of ecstatic fear

the spirts of tragic heroines of love – Dido and Ariadne-

run to the top of the hill where the sky lies above the earth

and lament their earthly journeys that ended in love alone

as Hounds of Love howl beside the beautiful losers in love

till the lovers’ tryst ends in a mist of passion and intoxication.

 

P.S.: I am always inclined to the stories of beautiful losers whose loves for their figures of the affairs of the hearts are not returned because there’s something tragically beautiful in them. Dido, the beautiful queen of Carthago, was cruelly forsaken by trojan refuge and founder of Rome Aeneas and chose to end her own life thereafter. Ariadne was a Cretan princess who helped Athenian prince Theseus to kill the Minotaur and to bring out the Athenian youths from the labyrinth with her inscrutable ball of threads as a guide to a route out. But Ariadne was also later deserted by Theseus and let alone on an island and forced to marry Dionysus, the god of wine. Hence this poem about those who are unlucky in the affairs of the hearts. 

 

#ShakespeareSunday

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“My gracious silence, hail!… Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons.” (‘The Tragedy of Coriolanus’, A2 S1). “And all my mother came into my eyes, gave me up to tears.” (‘Henry V’, A4 S6). Thereafter, “my thoughts were like unbridled children, grown too headstrong for their mother.” (‘The History of Troilus and Cressida’, A3 S2)

 

P.S.: This week’s theme is “Mothers and Children”, and the above is what I have found to be fit for the subject. In order to incorporate the quotations into one coherent paragraph of a drama, I have also slightly adapted the original texts to create a smooth flow of the narrative. 

 

cheers, cutie

If you trust to your lucky stars

For life to be easy on you

Then look at small things

To find pleasantness

That will lead you to the stars

Twinkling thru the leaves of the trees. 

 

Author’s Note: I came across this tweet, which I found cute and pleasant to make my morning brighten with a cute smile. This adorable picture of a mouse is taken from Hermit Saints Triptyche by Hieronlmus Bosch, Circa 1495-1505. It is seen in the scene of “St. Anthony the Abbot in a nocturnal landscape with a burning village”. I thought this tweet, together with the painting itself, was an apposite subject to uplift the mind dipped in a moody spirit.

flight of life

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She has seen the strange fear gain

Advantage on the society of citizens

And the panic win of the ghost campaign

Drumming in masks, marching in battalions.

When she has seen the start of the war,

It has asked her once again to wonder

About the cyclicity of history to reflect

Upon the nature of humanity that retains

Its dualism of good and evil ever to resist

The heaven on earth for the glory of heroes.

This thought is as a plague of the fear

That has begun to deter me from a cheer.

Author’s Note: All the locomotion of daily city life seems to have ceased: my regular Starbucks store is operated on a pick-up service only, the security guards at the lobby have gone, the streets are empty, and policemen in tandem are patrolling. The situations also extend to Ventura County, where I live. I tried not to write about the pandemic craze because of its very sheerness of the subject about which many writers are probably writing. But what I have seen for these past four days in my very eyes has fomented me to write about my impression and feelings. Hence this is it. 

 

Fairy gold

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A little green man with a beard was hiding

A pot of gold coins at the end of the rainbow

Not knowing that a man was approaching

From behind the oak tree with his face aglow

with the sign of fortune wheeled in his favor.

“Gotcha! You mischievous Leprechaun!”

The triumphant man held the fairy in terror

And stole the pot of gold coins and ran.

But the little green sprite had the last laugh

For when the man arrived at his hut,

The treasure turned into bread dough

And the man fell aback into an old rut.

 

Author’s Note: It’s sad that St. Patrick’s Day parades have been canceled all over the world due to the outbreak of the insidious Corona virus pandemic. Although I am not Irish, St. Patrick’s Day is my favorite feast day when I feel truly festive and jovial for reasons unknown. The Irish, I think, know how to have fun in a way that embraces and welcomes all with warmth and friendliness wherever they are based on my personal experience. So, I am celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with this little poem, wearing a green shirt. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!