The Lonely Playing Turf Gazed At Joy
In The Face Of The Toddller,
Glowing,Like An Ember In Emerald.
Whispering, The Grass, Ever, In Monotone,
Longed To Sway With The Warm Breeze.
The Lonesome Turf, She Yearned To Join In The Fun,
Oblivious Of The Pretty, Triangular Shape Of The Rain.

Ten Little Candles, On My Finger Tips,
Dripping Wax Upon My Magenta Meadow.
Their Hums, Like Baby Nightingales,
And They Sway Like Pretty Dancers.
On The Soil Of My Homeland, I Sit,
Watching The Ten Darling Angels,
Longing To Feel The Heavenly Lights;
For The First Time, My Heart Hums.

Ten Crimson Flames, On My Finger Tips,
Dripping Joy Upon My Bare Hips.
Their Hums, Like Baby Nightingales
And They Spin Like Ballerinas.
On The Grass Of My Homeland, I Sit,
Watching The Ten Blissful Angels,
Longing To Feel The Heavenly Lights;
For The First Time, My Soul Sings.

Blooming Seas, Unfolding Meadows,
From The Hands Of The Lord.
Whispering Words, Humming Tunes,
The Voice That Beckon Me Home.

Crimson Joy, In His Heart,
Dripping Upon My Mournful Soul;
Golden Sword, In His Hand,
He Sweeps The Evil Sins Away.

You’ Re The Wings Of My Heart,
Flapping Joyously In The Sky,
Longing To Feel My Heartbeat And My Warm Joy.

In Your Arms, You Cradle Me,
Good And Bad Times, Alike…
A Hammock In My Life, Humming Lullabies At Night.

Time Flies Like A Comet. In A Split Second, Unaware,
Daylight Turn Into Darkness, Joy Turns Into Gloom.

Yesterday Creeps Back To Its Grave To Rest,
The Present, A Blazing Fire Before The Eyes

The Indigo River Flows,
Whistling, A Merry Train.
Golden Leaves Sprawl On It,
Listening To Its Poems.

Whistling, A Merry Train,
On Its Way To The Sleeping Ocean,
The Indigo River Flows;
My Heart Sings As It Goes By.

The Night Sky Blazes,
Tiny Stars Gleam Auburn Joy;
The Crescent Moom Beams.
Now And Then, A Comet Darts,
Its Indigo Tail, Fiery.

Slow, A Tiny Snail, She Crawls,
Searching For Freedom In Her Murky Universe,
Longing For Her Wound To, Fastly, Heal.

Lonely In The Freezing, Wintry Nights,
Raped By The Callous Unknown;
Searching For A Lavender Feather To Hold;
Crimson Tears, Endless, Dripping From Her Soul.

Where Were The Poems That I, Once, Wrote—
Triolets, Haikus, Tankas And Vinalelles?
Did They Fly Away, To Where The Lilies Bloomed,
Or To The Seas Where Indigo Water Glistens?

My Wings, Now, Tattered,
I Could Not Glide On Skies;
Feathers, Tarnished By Time,
Orange And Blue Colors Fading,
My Aging Wings,
Now, Like Roses’ Petals Of Winter Gloom.

Tremor After Tremor…
The Devil’s Plow Cut A Deep Line
Into A City’s Heart,
A Pool Of Blood Filled The Street.
Mornings Without Sunrays,
Wrens And Finches Are All Hiding.
The Sky, A Fallen Town,
Never Again, Blazed Azure.
The Lilies And And Bluebells
Folded Their Wings In Total Pain;
China, A Vagabond,
Meandered To Seek Her New Sun.