Best Chinese Poems

Colorful ribbons 
follow the woman’s movements. 
I can almost see
floating rainbows.

Pale beauties unfurl 
ivory hued fans.
I imagine
swan wings fluttering.


I chose both the ribbon dance and the fan dance for the Chinese New Year & Celebrations - Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi...

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Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to...

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A gambler from Hong Kong named Louie.
He was dumb and quite a bit screwy.
In a gambling pad,
he lost all he had.
Today, he can’t afford chop suey.


Who says a limerick has to be Irish?...

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The second day of the Chinese New Year
Tradition has it say
That the son in law visits 
His mother in law
Guest of honour on this day

She treats him like a king
When time to go back home
Gives him two lotus lanterns
One red and one white alone

Time of...

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Red envelope
Bursting with luck
Dragons dancing in the street...

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Dragon was hatched in the year of the Dragon, on the Chinese Zodiac.
But, then so was I. Yep folks, that makes me so very, amazingly wise.
Because I was born in the year of the Dragon, a Dragon egg I did get!
Now, for the Chinese New...

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DEMETER AT THE CHINESE OPERA


So, I invited you to the Chinese Opera impulsively
Thinking of masks and dragons and triumphant mystery
I though it was time we threw off our coats
Of mourning, you for your  daughter

Stopping one night, on the way home from a party,
So randomly,...

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The Lunar Cycle

Holiday of fifteen days

Red lanterns shed light...

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Lunar New Year brings blessings bright:
Affluence now cheers our spirits right.


Goodies galore with sure good health:
So much and more with ample wealth.


Time moves most brisk with bounty's range:
We live fine risk as fortunes change.


So much to do as plenty sums:
For me and you with grand...

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Dumplings 

As I walk into the kitchen, for a snack, 
my mother, her apron, night black hair, and jade bracelet, 
 makes me dumplings.
She combines the mixture of monotonous ingredients
into something extraordinary. 

The water, like a youthful spring, rejuvenated the frozen, faltering fruits of nature,...

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Reaching out to infinitude 
when words have come to an end.
		Yan Yu

Presence, without;
the space framed 
but left empty.  
Mountains float
as a fisherman
ignores, wishing 
only for a fish 
to feed his family.

Empty space is 
space for us 
to not ignore.
We fill it with 
our emptiness...

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31/10/18


Beneath a pale sky of bleakest white,
Songs carried by the eastern wind,
The faint sounds of flutes and lesser known cries,
Reveal a surface less skimmed.

The slowest of flicks by a wise older wrist,
With contentment despite all the noise,
A story to tell at the call of five...

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A large toothy Chinese dragon spirits me away.
To lively San Francisco street with paper lanterns.
Trinkets of all shapes and forms. Smells wafting in
Reminding me of Sweet and Sour Chicken and Pepper Beef.

My mouth waters in anticipation of my next meal here.
A dragon! A child’s shrill...

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Fingertips 
fall—
not like 
stones,
but like rain,
plucked silver
threading the air.
Each string
holds a hush,
a breath not yet
forgotten.

The musician builds—
not a score,
but the curve
of a heron’s wing
skimming dusk
softly vanishing
in a single glissando.


The guzheng does not speak.
It spills:
vibrato,
a tide rising
then breaking
against memory.

Sound leans back—
not toward silence
——but toward a
distant shore
we...

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These are translations of some of the oldest Japanese waka, which evolved into tanka, renga and haiku. 

While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
—O no Yasumaro (circa 711), translation by Michael R. Burch

Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make!
Heaven's...

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