Life
Walking Eastward
I look at the faces,
and hear an old tune.
A sound of non-being
fills the void.
My mind goes wandering,
still the darkness.
But along deaths path,
towards distant hills –
I still behold the moon
and river waters clear.
There, my song
charms me asleep –
until the end.
A door to yesterday
A picture I came across from my trip to South Korea. I wrote this poem a couple of days ago.
The shape of the day,
and smell of a summer shower.
Before, she made it something.
Now, the bird song
shortens a memory lane.
A spot of sunlight changes its grip,
the earth shakes.
Just enough to remind me,
that death is death –
all over again.
A place for Apparitions
I escape to the coffee cafes,
to hide myself.
Again a pen and solitude,
hold a guardian spirit.
And inside, an alternative
to a fog of fatigue.
The powerful totems, stand tall.
A travelling poet
My picture: A wall picture in a restaurant this evening.
A poet moves forward,
there is always another poem…..
my joy in life – all else was left behind.
Tomorrow I will travel,
and enjoy it.
Another search for words,
with white light – giving them glow.
I can see my breath,
and a silver moon through the trees.
Just like the old days.
Night of the firefly’s
I intended
never to grow old.
Or be a man,
with fish bones …..ambling
out of bed to find love.
But age comes,
on sand and each grain.
Yet, I still want to see sunshine
at the beginning of summer.
And meet you once again,
on thin ice.
Snow is on the way
My drawing this evening.
A tune of being,
filling the void.
A paradise by the river…..
I wonder where the winds
of winter have gone.
And then……
I shift my pillow
closer to the moon.
Encased by winter
My picture; Harbin, Heilongjiang, China.
On a journey, ill
my mind wanders.
I thought about you,
in the heart of the fire.
The sky cracking,
adrift between the
earth and heaven.
A sudden death with eyes,
and the last nights of nights
I have tasted life…..
to its utmost.
Talking trees of Xinxiang
My picture: Taken yesterday evening.
Adrift between the earth and sky,
I asked the trees what they were talking about.
“Today, this moment
and how to leave the world
….. there’s nothing in it”
They replied in a chorus.
I knew then, this was the right place.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
How to live
My picture: taken today
A Wandering Poet 