The Dead Pour Me Out Like Green Tea
I am dead to many, a few are dead to me.
I am forgotten
by young women in green silk sarongs.
Some of the dead have taken vows of silence
lips forever sealed with amnesia.
I have fished Koi ponds for the sun,
drunk the passions of dreaming girls
as if they were my own.
Now I am an old man,
I sip the jasmine
as if it were a blood memory,
yet mind shakes
with a more than timid palsy.
Ring the temple bell once more for me,
I loved them all
and you can keep your pallid pity.
The dead pour me out like green tea
and if I were just a ghost,
just a thought once placed
upon a damp bamboo mat,
I will take that.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment