All I need

29th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

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.

Life while – you – wait

24th Apr 201924th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Anyang, Henan Province, China.

This spring

with age and growing old.

A cloud, a bird

and beauty of youth.

Hide the moon, a gaping hole

and a loss too soon.

In loitered form

a glimpse of death’s grinning face,

filled with anxious, mounting fear.

For a soul filled and let fly,

here’s to spring memories.

Rejected

15th Apr 201915th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture of my picture

My poetry was rejected this morning,
early morning China time.
A time when people are weary, unhappy and frustrated
……facing a long and uninventive day.

The magazine gave no reasons,
just the manner of things
No emotions…..
“We have decide not to keep your poems”

The curious thing for me
was that, I felt in good company.
Bukowski was rejected most days,
and Dickinson almost never published.

They just left large droppings of their lives, all around.
For people like me to pick-up,
in between reading Camus and Chomsky…..
spaces in their lives and the lives of their friends.

So, I made some coffee, drew a picture
and wrote a poem.
Not like Bukowski or Dickinson, like me.
A concrete man, then the real morning began.

Two worlds collide

14th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: TianNing Pagoda in Anyang…almost a 1000 years old…..taken yesterday on a trip to the city. A contrast between old and new….which reflects a discourse in China and the world….

She was given the world
one long shot into the darkness.
Laughing at the moon
more sound than song.

Now gasping for air,
so much she couldn’t see.
This passion, this heat…it’s in our DNA.
And we stay in our worlds.

The death of Fish

13th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Taken today in Anyang City, Henan, China.

Dead fish in the river and cloud-moisture.
Frantically whipping-up
the crisis below, unseen.
A tarnished bitter shame,
and freeze frame once more.

And the empty plastic bottles,
that cry like tears.
Surrounding the place
with their uselessness.
And nobody minded at all.

So, I went home and took a shower
with love and everything.
The heat turned up listening to AC/DC,
splattering the water and guitar riffs all over the place.
I think this will be good for the fish.

Dreams left behind

7th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / 1 Comment

My Picture: Tablecloth in a coffee bar I frequent.

I sat down for coffee,
in the shadow of a Xinxiang sky.
Without effort, I watched
people talk with their phones
hoping to make the moment work.

A young woman is making herself
look pretty, for a selfie……
trying to take off her unbecoming frown.
She seems to be struggling, I want to help
but she may misunderstand my motives.

She….is already pretty
beautiful black hair, shiny, as straight as can be
with a pick bow half- lost in an aimless flight.
Her lips as red as a rose, with all the allure
of a fleeting symbol of life.

Then, I left for home
bowing to the faint rays of light and sunset crosses.
Strange place, I thought
but no sadness on this day, at least.

Still falls the rain

6th Apr 20196th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

https://www.deviantart.com/luthienelf/art/Qingming-Festival-294710525: Qingming Festival (also known as Pure Brightness Festival or Tomb-sweeping Day), which falls on either April 4th or 5th: Tomb sweeping is regarded as the most important custom in the Qingming Festival from which the name of Tomb-sweeping day is got.

So tired of running,

a mourning moment.

I stopped to look.

Flowers bloom,

a slight wind on Qingming day.

I was just sorry-ever-after.

I have loved forever

5th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Statue outside my apartment complex, Xinxiang, China.

A cold shoulder,
darkness silently screaming.
Yet, not lost
and feeling accepted.

A paper-weight
blow about.
Sleeping, walking
what else is life’s dream!

Slants of light slip away,
almost knowing.
Life sees life
none can teach it.

Renouncement

4th Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: A local coffee shop…I go to write and sometimes I meet people

“Come on, let’s go for coffee” I said,
with a bright and unforgettable smile.

The lights of Xinxiang played silently in secret,
an echo of the overwhelming urge to break and run.

A fresh breeze, an open door
and beauty in each single thing.

There was an intimate band of souls,
questioning…..

But you lived far away……
and the ways parted.

Dawn Chorus

3rd Apr 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Xiahe County, Gannan Tibetan Autonomous Prefecture, Gansu, China.

Dawn, and the campus is quite.
Sun beams yearn to break.
Rows of baby-chewed medical books,
tinged brown and beaten flat
by thousands of little bare feet.
Sit quietly in the morning shadows,
watching old women sweeping.
It becomes a thing.

Faint strands of outdoor light,
half-warning, half fear.
Stand alone in a makeshift moment,
all for another day.
Stiff-bodies awake to slow-mo happiness.
And notebooks in the margins
are turned-slow by cold hands.
One page, soon others deepen the approach,
a slight chill to the morning.

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.

This spring

with age and growing old.

A cloud, a bird

and beauty of youth.

Hide the moon, a gaping hole

and a loss too soon.

In loitered form

a glimpse of death’s grinning face,

filled with anxious, mounting fear.

For a soul filled and let fly,

here’s to spring memories.

My poetry was rejected this morning, early morning China time. A time when people are weary, unhappy and frustrated ……facing a long and uninventive day.

The magazine gave no reasons, just the manner of things No emotions….. “We have decide not to keep your poems”

The curious thing for me was that, I felt in good company. Bukowski was rejected most days, and Dickinson almost never published.

They just left large droppings of their lives, all around. For people like me to pick-up, in between reading Camus and Chomsky….. spaces in their lives and the lives of their friends.

So, I made some coffee, drew a picture and wrote a poem. Not like Bukowski or Dickinson, like me. A concrete man, then the real morning began.

She was given the world one long shot into the darkness. Laughing at the moon more sound than song.

Now gasping for air, so much she couldn’t see. This passion, this heat…it’s in our DNA. And we stay in our worlds.

Dead fish in the river and cloud-moisture. Frantically whipping-up the crisis below, unseen. A tarnished bitter shame, and freeze frame once more.

And the empty plastic bottles, that cry like tears. Surrounding the place with their uselessness. And nobody minded at all.

So, I went home and took a shower with love and everything. The heat turned up listening to AC/DC, splattering the water and guitar riffs all over the place. I think this will be good for the fish.