Death

Night time laughter

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My drawing: a reflection of a moment….thinking of someone…..

Twisting in the wind,

rebuilding the molecules.

It should be enough.

But breezing winds and flights in turn,

slam the days down through charcoal space

and sunlight filtered clouds.

 

And as the night relaxes,

nothing stirs except the saddest lines.

As I listen, an image appears

 of your bright body and infinite eyes

….. laughing one more time.

Understanding pain

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My pictures…and my students words…

I talked to the students about pain today,
it was one of those days.
My pain for you and the world,
a sweet singing and a tainted image.
What is means to be truly human.

If time was replayed
I would give more heart, your way.
And through the winters fog and mists,
slow down… breathe deeply and see the whole world… right here.

Some students gave me words,
for me a new delight.

The dark thoughts, the shame and guilt,
that swarm like bees from time- to-time
….. now traded with caution.

Then life can move forward,
never stepping back from fear.
And ghosts do not haunt me, for now.

Spring feeling

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A day in the Chinese countryside with some friends….very beautiful and mindful.

That spring feeling and trudge around,
still hunts me after all these years.
I found myself in the flowers
wishing you were here,
enjoying the cool of the evening
….. one more time.

And the thickets are for the small moments, and the first visiting Chinese
beautiful rosefinch
….. the scent is already in the air.

From those endless dry winters,
and the final parting.
A little wild cherry tree,
and the deep smell of rose blossom
….. pushes back the sadness.

And as the bush warbler sings,
I remember those days…. worn out with love and sensuous kisses
All site lost of the throbbing pain and
swollen cheeks… soon to come.

Coffee and words

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My picture. A coffee, some marking of student work…and a short poem I wrote on the back of the receipt.

Sixty papers on mental illness marked,

all the words not said.

Hope loses the way,

stained by tragic scenes

My pen aches

and I wonder…. does anybody care.

The stranger

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My picture: Another doodle….but a self-portrait of sorts.

Strange how fast night comes,
a solid sound as jaded faces melt.

Then the night shivers out
an early morning drift, like a sigh.

In the wink of an eye,
a world cowed by wind and rain.

A summer’s backward glance,
and broken shells in disarray.

Tokens of regret left all around,
but dreams forget to come.

And sleeping now, life is sweet
all tucked inside dawn’s blue light.

 

See me as I am

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My Picture: I am going through a phase of adding my drawings to my poems…another example.

A friend asked me about pain,

I told him I know something.

“A new diagnosis, an enduring ailment

and then the real pain comes”

He seemed satisfied,

that my heart was dark enough.

Cancer Days

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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.

Happy Workers Day

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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

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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.