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Best Famous Li-Young Lee Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Li-Young Lee poems. This is a select list of the best famous Li-Young Lee poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Li-Young Lee poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Li-Young Lee poems.

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by Li-Young Lee |

A Story

 Sad is the man who is asked for a story
and can't come up with one.
His five-year-old son waits in his lap.
Not the same story, Baba.
A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.
In a room full of books in a world of stories, he can recall not one, and soon, he thinks, the boy will give up on his father.
Already the man lives far ahead, he sees the day this boy will go.
Don't go! Hear the alligator story! The angel story once more! You love the spider story.
You laugh at the spider.
Let me tell it! But the boy is packing his shirts, he is looking for his keys.
Are you a god, the man screams, that I sit mute before you? Am I a god that I should never disappoint? But the boy is here.
Please, Baba, a story? It is an emotional rather than logical equation, an earthly rather than heavenly one, which posits that a boy's supplications and a father's love add up to silence.
Credit: Copyright © 1990 by Li-Young Lee.
Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.
, www.
boaeditions.
org.


by Li-Young Lee |

Eating Alone

 I've pulled the last of the year's young onions.
The garden is bare now.
The ground is cold, brown and old.
What is left of the day flames in the maples at the corner of my eye.
I turn, a cardinal vanishes.
By the cellar door, I wash the onions, then drink from the icy metal spigot.
Once, years back, I walked beside my father among the windfall pears.
I can't recall our words.
We may have strolled in silence.
But I still see him bend that way-left hand braced on knee, creaky-to lift and hold to my eye a rotten pear.
In it, a hornet spun crazily, glazed in slow, glistening juice.
It was my father I saw this morning waving to me from the trees.
I almost called to him, until I came close enough to see the shovel, leaning where I had left it, in the flickering, deep green shade.
White rice steaming, almost done.
Sweet green peas fried in onions.
Shrimp braised in sesame oil and garlic.
And my own loneliness.
What more could I, a young man, want.
Credit: Copyright © 1986 by Li-Young Lee.
Reprinted with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.
, www.
boaeditions.
org.