East world. Asia.
I met. With Chinese people
In London.
I love them
I worked with them
At their companies
Yes. Good jobs
Beautiful feelings
Chinese friendship
I never forget
The chinese
Hospitality
Amazing
East foods
South Korea’s thirteenth guide, who rode Korea as his chariot
Only for six breathes, guided by the thirteenth star of Iscariot
Under the hoofs, he defiled the white flag, as yin and yang turned again
The slave of Seokga, the demiurge of sinful men
Hungry ghost of Chun Doo-hwan, the cornerstone of the people's burden
Killed by the bamboo dragon, the Korean people as one
Opened wide by the dragon’s teeth, showing a slave afraid of the sun
Running away from the dragon and sun, giving up the fight
Enduring all this, the dragon looked to Mount Sorak, to see a light
A bonghwang, with wings wide and free, shining through the flag of white
Brought out by sages
Birthed within seas of dharma
Beheld by Mani
Begotten as the world’s soul
Brought out by the rising sun
Dear Asia.
Under the canopy on an Autumn day,
Our hearts beaming with so much to say,
We would have walked along the countryside.
To take in the beauty of wide open spaces,
With smiling faces, we would have taken a slow drive.
On dark nights when clouds have hidden stars from sight,
We would have listened to the whispers of the wind.
But now, my heart is very broken over what could have been.
Your grandma and I were preparing to love on you very tenderly.
Oh, papa girl, I pleaded with our Lord to not allow you to be
Taken away from me, but I'll be okay. Good bye for now.
Love. Grandpa.
Once the green land of morning calm and high serenity
Soon waved the blood red flag, stained with the false words “We will soon be free”
Now a grey, barren mountain swallowed by Yaldabaoth’s sea
O Glorious and Wise Empire of the East
Slaughtered by cold winter’s wrath and the azure dragon
For this world had no place to lay your gentle head
Your monasteries of light now some mists of black soot
Your masterful art now mere fragments burned by flames
Your songs to the sun and moon now dead whisps of the wind
Your glory was a brief shooting star in the night
You were a holy mountain, with rivers flowing
Rivers with elect sailing to the four ends of the world
Where trees and flowers sang songs of liberation
With your horses’ galloping being the sweet tune of life
Whispers of your bravery and wisdom still resound today
Your treasure, in the dragon’s nest, waiting to shine again
May another white shooting star enlighten the world again
O you Sovereign and Glorious Empire of the East
To live is to forgive,
To the girl who wears makeup over her vacuum cleaner,
To the shy writer who won the Nobel Prize,
To the growing silence of Icelandic whales and sperm whales,
To live is to forgive, Joseph Kessel, Beatrice,
To the panther-sized dancer,
Who leaves you on Valentine’s Day,
For touching you that you are not the center of the world,
Like Joseph Kessel, nor Edgar Allan Poe or Baudelaire.
To live is to forgive.
Asia is larger than a novel by Joseph Kessel.
To live is to forgive,
Asia is larger than a novel by Joseph Kessel.
To the icy ray of moon that crosses the window,
To the bee that stings your honey on the table of abundance,
Forgive the indifference and talent of New York poets,
To live is to forgive,
To his parents who scolded and lied to you often,
To the teacher who strikes his baton on the desk,
To the student who recites his fable without knowing it better,
To live is to forgive Joseph Kessel in the mountains,
To the nervous lions that hunt the elephants of Tanzania,
To capricious girls who take shampoos,
To the girls who want seducing cats and griffins.
To live is to forgive,
To lovers who eat dark chocolate,
To the bulls that haunt the dreams of the Spaniards,
To the prime numbers, this ridicules our cute reason.
Such Fun!
See the new cherries barge us in the call centre
They’re in the middle of being trained
I do my usual trick on them it works each time
I make sure I’m on a call and talking away
The new cherry is watching me intently
I suddenly stand up and say sit there
Take off my headphones put them on
Only one guy ever put them on
All the rest were terrified to do so
Or even sit in the live hot seat
I say you’re to show me what to do
We’ll see what you know as I’m new
What fun it works every time
Fun at the new cherries’ expense
Birthed from the central river of holy kings
The court city guarded by stone rings
A marriage of light and might
Its stupa shone bright
With divine
Light
As life's sign
A heart of daylight
Its head, the gold tent, in sight
Guarded by the dragon with its wings
Birthed from the central river of holy kings
Church and fortress of clay that shone bright with might
Monastery of the faith of light
Though brief like a small spark stored
Earth quaked and flames roared
Dragons stared
Sward
Angels cared
An island ignored
Eternal with heaven’s lord
As the radiant white moon at night
Church and fortress of clay that shone bright with might
I checked syllable count by How Many Syllables with Worksheet
Date: January 20th 2023 center
Contest: Writing Challenge - Andaree Form - Poetry Contest center
Contest Sponsor: Constance La France center
Gold
Flowing down
Red lotus in hand
Where the gold Cross of Light shines
Christ sits as a sole lotus of gold
Warka poem about the Manchaean Chinese painting of Jesus 12th-13th AD.
People flying white papers with no words
For the truth is plain to see
Against the red flag stained with blood
Once trapped in caves despite their plea
With no unchained light at the end
By the bear faced dragon named Xi
Whose ancestors oppressed the faith of light
We’ll find the light of the free
Lushi poem in the English language
Actually, I like Russia
But want her to join Asia:
Doesn’t really belong to Europe;
Like she is there tired with a rope:
So much Asian bravado:
Others under my shadow!
Shall I forget her Brezhnev
To Cowboy Reagan, Quite Brave
Or her Yuri Andropov
Whom you couldn’t say was ‘Dove’
Then, they were dying much fast
Chernenko could not quite last
Also, like Russian Ruble
But from her sensing trouble
When efforts Russians double
To Dollar change with Ruble …
Actually, some friends’ gossip
But persons whose tongues don’t slip.
Never join – Please! – in taking Russia
For the less alert nations in Asia
Or choosing her own furry coat
For disguisedly sneaking into her boat.
Some Ivanovitch will be coming for you,
First amusedly radioing his crew
About “The Freshest Stowaway
To make a Human Yesterday”.
Russia doesn’t fail to get him
Simply swayed by a whim
Lengthily teaching him ‘How to Borrow’
For a desired voyage, tomorrow …
Your keenest prayer: To not end up a meal
For the Hungriest Planted Shark:
What shall off your mother’s skin peel
And make your wife like a dog bark:
Russia’s last Nobel Peace Winner
Leave confused and thinner?
And her KGB,
A Scarier TB!
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