My Picture: I am going through a phase of adding my drawings to my poems…another example.
See me as I am
Vietnam
Sunday morning, again
A picture of my drawing…sadness is all around…sometimes.
A young woman sweeping
in the morning shadow.
Silently, I leave the bed.
Half fear, half hope
….. another
brick wall Sunday.
Cancer Days
My pictures and my drawing….reflecting on another time…another place…so far away.
All day long,
marking medical papers.
Divisions of cells,
seasons of mutations
and angel crowns.
Meditated by a yellow bird,
gently touching a sick wife.
The sickness is me,
I hope you’re not lonely.
When life has left
My picture of my drawing.
Her hair tells a story,
a geisha dance to the world.
Enough winters gathered
and lips turned icebergs.
Her blue sleek steps,
once a soul to our time.
Now withered memories
of pain thrown, and pale loss.
The sound of noise
My Picture: A simple doodle in my journal……
All morning I’ve been thinking.
I wonder about the trees, the flowers and
the noise outside my window.
Sometimes I watch the trees sway,
always humble and kind.
Do the flowers have mountains to climb?
It can’t be easy having the white clouds watching over them.
And the noise, always the noise
it never gets away, until we lose the measure of life.
Happy Workers Day
My picture of my drawing: 1st May is International Workers Day…so I thought about this..everyday is ‘International Workers-Day’ …for many people, especially children…nothing really to celebrate.
12 years old,
my mother tells me it is International workers day.
I know…I work 17 hours every day.
If only….
If only I could see my daddy…I miss my daddy…..he works so far away.
If only there was a playground for me and my friends to play in.
If only there was fresh water for me and mummy to drink
If only I could draw pictures, I like drawing pictures.
If only the man did not come at night time…
If only……
Happy workers day to all the people in the world.
I will finish this box soon……..then the next one.
Sleepless Nights
My picture: A simple drawing I did…part of a late dream one night…..
I know the night outside my apartment is cold,
and the wind turns empty.
Sprawled on my bed, my heart is not asleep
and my mind is wide open.
Touching distant signals, watching the bodies
no flesh and flesh in a cage of sleep.
These fellow non sleepers kiss my brain and shed a tear of time.
A drop of dreaming on the rim of vast silence.
Sometimes, I would like you to sing me to sleep.
I’ll fly endlessly wishing me well to remember this vision.
A labour of tears, false dawns and false grief,
clock ticking loud in the dark for all to see.
All I need
rhdr
My pictures: I went to see a concert tonight at Henan Normal University in Henan. To hear Western classical music played with such individual interpretation and passion… by Shi Meng Xiao… a post graduate student at Henan Normal University…. was simply a very special moment for me….
Relentless April days,
it hit me without warning.
Schubert , the most poetic musician
Absorbing light, deep within
……a soak right to the bone.
Until that moment there’s pain,
for simply being.
Then tall birds gathered
Chopin and Bach,
and three became as one.
Water margin
My picture: A dragon fish….my friend keeps these fish…so I wondered about the life of this beautiful creature.
Open in hunger,
we slowly approached.
A fish of silver, flash
with barbed mouth.
And a poet, inner soul red
and time wounded.
The fish spoke first
“You know….. there are rain clouds
at the window, hiding their trail.”
So I took out my pen
and tapped on the glass.
How I remember it
My picture of my picture……more and more I try and characterize my poems with simple drawings as well as pictures.
A Wandering Poet 