A skirt of stars falls to the earth
as mischievous men drink in mirth
to celebrate their trying trek;
all hearts and hands are now on deck.
What shall tomorrow’s sunrise bring?
Into which waters will they spring?
Neither man nor beast truly see
what terrors lie beyond the lee.
Tag Archives: creative writing
Cinquain/XXIX
white wings
shelter spare frames
from nefarious things
as the trumpet of slumber claims
gray names
Wounded Centipede
Nine knees scurry up Devil’s hillside whilst
bed heads haloed in heaven’s brilliance fling
roaring hearts towards Denka’s den.
Walls of cold stone silently sally forth by the
mottled bend to challenge our leprous band,
setting the stage for a war of discretion which
shall expose the contents of hesitant homes.
Winds that rattle callow keys embrace
this melting face.
Dahut
As she gasps for air on King Gradlon’s banks,
the red waters of her petulant petticoats part
to reveal the slick ultramarine fin that shall
propel her through this sea of bloody roses
by Providence’s judgment.
Our ocean which had once been her savior now
swallows her, dragging rotting rogues and spirit
spotted tongues down into her open arms
for eternity.
The bells still thunder – can you hear them?
An Elegant Year
I blinked and a year had passed.
The dialogue that we spun at dawn with
slippery tongues forged the shining stone
road that we now amble along.
Languorous masks with smiling eyes that
we knew so well have vanished and have
been replaced with new ghosts to contend
with and so tonight we clink glasses again
and drink to the nights that spit fire
into our hearts.
When the grim olive bottles on the table
murmur that our passions have not yet been
tempered we choose to believe their false
flattery and then you offer up the bonny
conceits that I shall pillage come morning.
I hope you do not mind that I have stolen the
luxurious threads with which you would have
woven your own tapestry.
I am not ashamed.
Hunger
In this moment of perfect pain,
tears wash away within the rain.
And as frail feet meander home
wet worlds descend from heaven’s dome,
soaking skin in salty splashes,
driving me on with lusty lashes.
As night approaches, fear sets in
then grim visions begin to spin.
Do demons linger by the fire?
plotting to place me on their pyre?
My feet tarry at this divide;
pupils careen from side to side.
A critical choice must be made
no one will come to offer aid!
This way? That way? How do I pick?
Silent clocks tick loudly, quick! quick!
I shall follow this unknown lane,
in hopes that I might live again.
난항/Rough Passage
오래된 그 배는 끊임없는 격랑에 항해한다
부담을 실은 배에 따라 두근거리는 내 가슴은 요동친다
몸은 약하고 지치는데 계속적으로 난 고요한 바다를 기원한다
힘들고 오랜 항해 후 육지에 올랐다
영원히 무거운 눈꺼풀을 감는다
This old boat sails through an endless rough sea.
My pounding heart rolls with the burdened ship.
This body is weak and ragged; I pray incessantly for calm waters.
After a long and difficult voyage, land is reached.
Heavy eyelids close forever.
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It has been one week since I updated the blog. I have been busy with work and Korean studies. Hopefully this lag in updates will not become a trend! 🙂
unravelling
pale paper necks fold
downwards with the setting sun
eyelids smile freely
Cinquain/XXXII
seasons
of illusions
offer ample reasons
to float towards dark delusion’s
sly skins
In the Absence of Monsters
In the absence of monsters,
Aquila’s angels beam down
upon soft cheeks resting atop
mother’s shoulder.
A flying eagle soars through
slender stems carrying golden
garments of majesty.
In the absence of monsters,
we cannot possibly conceive
of the
pear blossoms reclining at
the end of the rainbow.
It is the autumn of needles.
sundry folly 