Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh

Tag: Poetry

  • Gone with Tears

     

    The+Angelus+by+Jean+Francois+Millet+Painting+Print
    ‘The Angelus’ by Jean Francois Millet

    Gone with tears are the four hearts of four souls,
    Weeping for the world pitiless, merciless, cheerless,
    Overawing and expiring the tiny flames of four lives, and
    Leaving their remains soaked with tears with no friend.

    Hope? Forget about the vanity of ethereal remote longing,
    Unavailable to them, unthinkable to them, for their suffering
    Was theirs, theirs only, theirs alone, not ours, not yours, not mine,
    Thinking “Thank God, it’s them, instead of me” with a glass of wine.

    Where was Charity when the four souls- two parents, two babies-
    Were forced to wander around in the vacant lot nights and days
    Facing daily unkindness, hopelessness, rejections, humiliations
    Gnawing every part of them till their spirits plunged to a low bottomless?

    Woe is to the four souls aborting their Fates so hard, so harsh
    In defiance against such Fates that even allowed no remote wish
    For instant happiness and now wandering the Place of Grief where
    They tell us their failed dreams and disappointments hard to bear.

     

    P.S. : This poem was written in memory of the family of four found dead in the backseat of a van in the parking lot of a CVS store located in Garden Grove, California. It is said that the family seemed to live in the van for about six months or so. The family was composed of a father, a mother, a two-year old daughter, and a nine-month old son. Although the Police is  investigating the cause of death, I can’t shake away my strong speculation that it must have been a case of suicide… Hence, this is how I feel about these souls who had no choice but ending their own – including the little ones of their own- . If the father or the mother could have gotten a job, or if anyone could provide them information on how to get public assistance, such as acquisition of housing and food stamp, they would have been with us… They should have not died… I wish they would rest in peace., especially those little ones as my heart is crying…

  • In a Twilight Dream

    images
    courtesy of google.com

    In the wee-hours of waking from a slumber which
    left me bewitched and reluctant to slowly
    return to Reality pervading me inch by inch,
    My eyes saw them glowing in the twilight silently.

    The faces – the faces! – those angelic faces
    of the celestial choir of Cherubims and Seraphims
    with the eyes of stars in the night sky, but alas!
    those eyes, those starry eyes full of silent woes!

    As the dawn’s breaking, and breaking ever rudely,
    the faces with the fateful eyes becoming faint and fainter,
    and the candlelight by the bedside flickering weakly,
    My eyes saw the Lights of Life growing big and bigger.

    That heartache puncturing my heart in every pieces,
    filling the voids with perpetual pathos of longing
    lingers in the remains of the days till my soul sees
    the sorry faces to tell them I love you, and the love is never-ending.

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  • The Wishful Pegasus

    ies
    courtesy of google. com

    If I could only know where to begin
    to turn over everything from within,
    running through this wind of vortex,
    with my hands clenched in coldness,

    If I could only find where the Fates
    live to demand my justice of the witches
    who spun the Wheel of Shattered Dreams,
    Silent Wishes, All in Epicycle, Orb in Orb, As Always,

    With a great flapping of the wings of a new spirit,
    I would fly away, far away, without limit.
    With a light pair of eyes to see the reality,
    I would fly higher, see farther for the beauty.

  • Mystic Solitude

    Once upon a time, by the sea far away from here,
In a castle made by crystal, there lived a lady
With Diamond Eyes and a Glass Heart as pure
As the chaste high Moon on a wintry night sky,
As delicate as the dewdrops on the leaves of
Flowers in the meadow where nymphs of
Dainty beauty danced with gods of winds.

The lady in the crystal castle heard the merriment
Of the nymphs and the winds in frivolous levity
That grew loud and grew louder as the winds
Blew hard and blew harder as their fiery gaiety
Reached the demise of the frivolity finally as
The great waves outside the castle were lulled away,
Becoming a sweet lullaby of tidal waves peaceful ever,
Caressing her spirit inviolate, her soul incorruptible ever.

Alone, all alone – was she lonely? Not ever! Never!
For she had two ravens named Thought and Sense
That sat on her shoulders and told her of the tales of
Day and Night, of Heroes and Gods, of Spirits and Sibyls,
And then flew away when their mistress fell into slumber
To deliver her message of her Thought and Sense Urbi et Orbi
That she spurned the frivolities of the world in the guise of
Romance, Reason, and Reality – the Virtual Vagaries as ever,
In the crystal castle enameled with her mystic solitude as ever.

  • Herculean Rhapsody

    horses
    Courtesy of google.com

    Thousands of years ago when gods and goddesses
    Lived among the mortal and made love to them,
    There lived a man in Greece across the oceans
    Whose muscles invincible, confidence supernatural,
    His spirit all greatness, all sincerity, all eagerness,
    Untainted by the vanity of his divine heritage of Zeus.

    A fruit of lustful possession of the mortal beauty
    Named Alcmena by Zeus, the god of gods, in slumber,
    The son of god, the infant prodigy toying with a snake,
    Grew out to be on a par with the strength and esteem of gods
    That was the sacred prerogative exclusive to the Olympian.

    But lo! It was nothing but the elitism of the gods, for he could
    Threaten the Sun to make it cool, waves when his boat’s tossed at seas,
    And his music teacher for forcing him to play the lute against his will.
    But alas, this man of incorruptible pride, of exceptional valor
    Was to be pierced by the unquenchable flame of jealousy and
    Hatred of Hera, the wife of Zeus, for his being the love child of
    Her ever amorous husband whose objects of passion knew
    No boundary between the mortal and immortal evermore,
    Which she couldn’t bear at the sight of Heracles, nevermore.

    Thus, Hera cast the spell of Madness upon the son of Zeus,
    Making him blind with terrible rage, talking sound and fury,
    And exciting him to slay his wife and their three sons with a sword
    smeared with their blood so crimson, so warm with their last breaths,
    Leaving the wretched man in a bottomless pit of guilt and shame
    In his awakening from the bewitched madness driven by the sulphurous
    Envy of the wife of god, who sired this son of god, who loved his mother.

    The great surge of remorse swept over Heracles with wells of tears,
    The sublime wish to expiate his sin suddenly urged him to go
    To the Oracle of Delphi for Apollo’s guidance for his penance,
    Where the sacred priestess in fits of divine frenzy told him to
    Eurystheus, King of Mycenae, his cousin, the inferior to his being
    To purge out his sins of Matricide, Uxoricide, Prolicide, and Filicide,
    Once for all, in the name of Apollo, god of the Sun, Truth, and Healing.

    Thus obeyed Heracles, our wretched but genuine man of courage,
    Who, at the command of Eurystheus, his loyal cousin, undertook
    The Twelve Great Labors so impossible, so unthinkable, so incredible
    By himself, alone, in act of penitence that was so brutal, so primordial as thus:

    Killing the Lion was met by vanquishing the Hydra;
    Then he had to capture the Stag and the Boar;
    He even deigned to clean the filthy Stables in a single day
    To kill the monster Bids, followed by capturing of the bull;
    Thereupon, he rounded up the Mares to steal the Girdle;
    Herded the Cattle so unmanageable and untamable;
    Went to fetch the Apples and then captured the Dog of the Underworld.

    The Greatness of the Spirit, the Purity of the Soul,
    Far excellent, far above the Reason clothed in cowardly pride,
    Far higher than arrogance and hypocrisy in the guise of intelligence,
    Was the name of Heracles to whom no fear and intimidation did appear,
    Nor the impossibility, nor injustice did exist in therein eternally evermore
    enshrined in the memory of the half-man, half-god who once lived among us.

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  • The Moon in the Water

    girls-night-moon-water-lily-painting-beautiful-mood
    courtesy of google.com

    Like the Moon in the Water,
    She’s soaked in a desire
    to fill her with full of light,
    the virtue of high mind, the sublime pursuit,
    spurning airy celebrity.