A poem written after moments of reflection.

The rain has come
to wake me up,
a nameless guest
without a feeling.

A switch to nothing
into something.
Shaving to its
smoothness.

And after the rain,
a desert blue morning.
Towers of red stone,
naked before the withering sun.

I know you are here,
exotic in sand –
and stood in white.
Had it ever come true?

A tranquil zen morning,
Buddha speaks
the language of
summer rain water.

Feeling close to you,
tasting serenity.
Maybe a moment
for a wayfaring stranger.

A poem and some pictures from yesterday.

A summer veiled
and love outside the mountains.
An age to cry and laugh,
to stay or depart.

Suddenly, a stream dashed –
the dancing steps of an urocissa.
Thunder, flashed thunder –
a moment framed with a kiss.

That kiss, close lightning
and beyond the gaze.
Now, sound and sweet taste –
and a life changed.

A short poem written this morning.

Heavy plum rain,
a hymn upon
a lonely grey sky.
The autumn,
breathes on me –
and yet that ray of light.
Such a beauty to see.

A poem written early this morning.

Night falls in Kaohsiung,
empty parking spaces.
Dried grass roots,
just holding up.

In my room,
poems on an island-
and memories left behind.
A summer walk, once again.

A poem I wrote last evening.

Alone on a small island,
gasping for air –
Buddhist whispers
softly fading.
A deep hurt,
and prayer of tears.
How long the day.

You should appear,
a beauty to see.
To fix, a cry of love
and summers
backward glance.
Fields and mountains,
wrapped in silk – only you
will sleep in my dreams.

A poem I wrote whilst reflecting on a life in exile and friendship.

The minivet
on a Kaohsiung street,
sings its
strange song.
A sweet benediction
on love.

And your smile,
a taste of dark wine.
Your eyes alive
with a Buddhas love.
A quick stitch,
between loss-
and love again.

A poem I wrote yesterday.

Up the dark mountain,
an image scarred.
A ceaseless weaving
of a fragile soul.

Forktails, singing a lament
somewhere close.
Treading a path,
that waits for breaking.

In this desolate place,
a flock of red lanterns.
Your foolish smile,
in a moment.
As if you were here.

A poem I wrote this morning.

A warm sweet sunlight,
gently creeps
into Kaohsiung city.
Another simple familiar tune,
lingering with gentle love.

What have we left, now?
The passion of a homesick child,
the innocent faith of a poet –
no longer belonging to the alter.
Both turning to face the rain.

I return to my happy days here,
to drive away my loneliness.
The beautiful ladies,
and morning clouds –
that come to my side.
The crowd of umbrellas
and fragile faces,
a slow drift in deep water.

And all of us,
drink from the beginning –
to enlarge the circle.
A ladder to the sun
and language of dreams.
A life framed by sadness,
that isn’t

A poem I wrote early this morning…..about a dream I had… and after the rain had stopped falling

The dream boomed out,
shifting clouds
block a tempting sun.
Stars shoot,
with sadness at heart.

This flying pair,
through life and death –
nest in southern branches.
Not looking back,
for the story – or return.

Across the Yushan range,
flower seeking butterflies.
And love, worthy of desire –
flows like a stream.
Alive, again.