I could have cried like a bride at a funeral
Bled out, dry. I could have but I was already
i think of you
I wish someone could turn the
moon back on, turn the dimmer back up
on the stars. I can't stand these dark
black nights void of even one tiny ray
of light. I am tired of walking blind through
the evenings of my everyday life...I
i think of you
Yesterday I dreamt the night sky exploded.
Bright white pinholes of light appeared .
It was as if an invisible hand was holding a huge
Fourth of July sparkler against a waterfall of black gold.
I watched the oil well blaze. The whole Earth was on fire.
The world was burning hot. Without fear I walked through
the flames warm, comforted as if I was being held in his light...I
i think of you
Still in the grip of my sleep suddenly an ocean appears.
its water rises and shapes itself like the head of a dragon.
Its neck is shaped like a Chinese silk fan. At the same time
it is just a huge wave. The kind surfers expect to find in heaven.
There is nothing threatening about this apparition.
Quite the opposite like the fire it feels as if it is a part of me...I
i think of you
Do I miss you?
Miss you? I died with you!
There's a knock at my door but I'm not here.
Life's going to have to wait. I'm in hiding.
I feel safe inside my walls. In reality my bedroom light
is all the outdoors I need. It is my Sun. I hate here without you.
So I lie in my bed motionless starring into my nothingness and I...
i think of you
As time passes...introspective...I begin to understand.
The earth, the air, the fire, the water all the elementals are him.
(I begin to thaw!)
He is with me even in my ignorance he has never left me.
You can take the lord into your heart without a word by accepting his light.
A deeper, purer understanding. A trust that rejects the dark no
matter how black. I am a part of all, a part of one as you are. A part of me.
I open my curtains...watch the dark exit
hurried as love rushes in. Firmly in his hold...I
I think of you...
Once again with you.
Fully! We...the power of one...I
I think of us.
March 25 2015
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
Yesterday, I followed her true invisible form
Colors turning a kaleidoscopic deep and warm
A state of mind, that makes reality feel alive
Stabbing moments that teach how tough it is to survive
And still this dagger is penetrating into my back real slow
Sweeping away the grimace under the rug in a one woman show
Illusive dreams asking for more and more
Sinking with doom, as karma sways through heaven's door
There she keeps her walk on stilts avoiding kismet
Removing every single footprint before sunset
Spending eternity planning the bliss we cannot see
Quenching my confidence, with a moisture that pleasures me
Arching a dirty deed, aiming all fingers that point at me
Spreading her demonic ecstasy, a mass of light weight, we can't see
A giggle-some laugh, I cannot hear
Tainted, in a nefarious way as the night disappears
Delighted, she glistens through the celestial world alone
A whisper of love with an impossible auspicious tone
Epic and exquisite, she works incognito striking whomever she wants
She Is The Enigma!" She Is the Illness~ that forever haunts
A mysterious lady whose perception flows with her own timeless oasis
An Empress is working on her own simplicity basis
My body impervious to react to conflicts that dwell with deep desire
Aggressively my defiant ways will allow her excessive universe to transpire
Like a lily we give in to the beauty of her empress exploding ravenous lust
It's magical and feeds off of the revenge that deepens with thrust
Down in the lilac valley, storming down like a glacier leaving nothing below
We caress we emerge, then we dust off the repellent of her forsaken glow
Leaving us with wounds, when our conflicts ricochet
Impacting us with a rebound when everything bounces back our way
She Springs in like a breeze that dwells and leaves gallivant
Past shadows, swing back with a darker chant
Leaving nothing but a Chinese Aster garden terrace
Her crown, sheer vixen and vigor with Victoria's fantastical lace
Her candle desalinate effect with a gentle glow
Everything to her is an issue with the results that come and go
Karma's punishments sail real slow, against the wind, waged by the zephyr
Rebuilding from the aftermath of, Karma's payback splenetic weather
Close your eyes and feel the consequences we embrace
Secretly every wage comes with reward from our hubris sin
A grasp with no escapes from the repercussion and deeds in our hearts
Doors spillover, in a significant unexplained phenomenal start
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
Watching a sway of a Chinese lantern
in colors the shade of your smile,
paper laced dreams in curvature shapes
suspended by silver threads
Ripples of koi pond whispers
slowly beckon in moonlit gestures,
as we sit counting fireflies,
hypnotized by our beating hearts
enchanting the evening divertimento
Lotus blossom fingertips softly
caress parted lips…smooth
As I drink in your fragrance,
tasting the flavors, your moistened lips
simmering upon each breath…
warm, offering a honeyed embrace
Gazing longingly upon porcelain skin,
a tempting star shine glow…
we melt as one, mouths entwined
drenched in serenity
while deep within our silence we speak,
not of voice…but of love
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016
"Made In China"
They can have my money
If it saves me money
The toys I played with when I was young,
Says I enjoyed their hands
The Labels read
"MADE IN CHINA"
The cheap material on my back, the shoes I wore.
How easily they faded and tore
However, I enjoyed their hands
The Tags on my rags;
"MADE IN CHINA"
The car I own saves money on gas
A tiny Honda Civic, takes me everywhere
I love my sweet silver car
"Manufactured in China"
The never been used--Made in the USA--cookware I own,
Says, I don't work hard at all:)
Yummy to Chinese all you can eat take Outs
Thank you China for being part of this world
Thank you China, for making this world a part of yours.
MADE IN CHINA
Shipped easily in a box
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
I have tracked my New Year's Resolutions
over the years these are my fantastic results.
2011: I will try to be more attentive to Lauren.
2012: I will pay more attention to what's her name...ah...Lori...I know I'm close.
2013: I will try for reconciliation with Lo.
2014: I will try to be more attentive to Carol.
2011: I will walk 35,000 steps a day this year.
2012: I will definitely start my walking routine this year at 10,000 steps a day.
2013: I will walk once a week.
2014: I will try to drive past a gym at least once a week.
2008: I will not stare at women's cleavage .
2009: I will cut down the amount of time I stare at women's cleavage.
2010: I will stop being so obvious when I stare at women's cleavage.
2011: I will attempt to stop getting caught staring at women's cleavage.
2012: I will stop increasing the time I spend staring at women's cleavage.
2013: I will seek professional help as directed by the courts.
2014: I will try to stop starring at the female prison guards cleavage.
2011: I will not let my siblings push me around.
2012: I will stick up for myself with at least one of my siblings.
2013: I will not let my siblings bullying depress me.
2014: I will talk to Dr. Potter and the group about my siblings.
2008: I will read Clarissa this year all 1534 pages.
2009: I did not read Clarissa I will read Varney The Vampire all 866 pages.
2010: I will read the first 50 pages of Varney The Vampire this year.
2011: I will read some articles in the newspaper this year.
2012: I will try and finish the comics section this year.
2013: I will read one strip in the cartoon section this year.
2014: I will read the fortune cookie thingy the next time I have Chinese Food.
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Contest Name: New Year's Resolution
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.
She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.
But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.
Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.
Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."
She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.
I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.
I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.
Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.
Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.
Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!
1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak | Year Posted 2010
follow the woman’s movements.
I can almost see
Pale beauties unfurl
ivory hued fans.
swan wings fluttering.
I chose both the ribbon dance and the fan dance for the Chinese New Year & Celebrations - Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
A little girl
She comes to a land of ghosts
Almost empty streets
Where are all the people
No one here looks like her
Within her heart
It is so cold
Where oh where, is the mountain of gold
Her mom and dad they are so bold
People of action
Not of words
A new future to find
They endured the sad
A world not kind
Their crowded apartment
A benevolent uncle stole
To leave the country they paid a toll
Plane tickets in her fathers hand
Brought his family to a new land
The little girl did not understand
The language she knew
She spoke it with such ease
She thought, she must throw it away
The bits of her culture slowly stripped day by day
Forced to grow up, with blinding speed
She looks after, siblings needs
No time for her
She couldn't play
Duty and honour
The Chinese way
Mom and dad, working night and day
They do so much, for little pay
Food on the table
A warm home
Within a land of ice
Through the years
A life is built
Yet the little girl, she is filled with guilt
She knows, there's been a sacrifice
Beneath the surface, of all that's nice
Many, many, years ago
Her grandfather was here
Away from her dad, for many years
Cooking for men, who worked the rail line
A small comfort when they would dine
They took the risk
The horrors so many
To long too list
They needed their families
So far away
Yet the politicians, turned them away
The abuse he suffered
With all his friends
It seems now the Government
wants to make amends
The past and future, are combined
You can't move forward
Without looking behind
The little girl, now grown up
For the past, she gives her thanks
Dreams from ties
She rides their rails
Blood and sweat
from hammering nails
She hears echoes, from the past
It seems their gifts, were forged to last
My wife went to a forum where the government
apologized for the awful things that were done
to the Chinese people who came to work in
Canada. So many Chinese men left their homes
in search of a better life for their families. They
were forced into slave like labour to build our
cross country railway. Many of them lost their
lives in the process. They were not allowed to
bring their families. When the earlier generations
came they were charged a head tax to move to Canada.
This discrimination was exclusive to Asian people.
This is a sad chapter in our Canadian History.
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
Now I ask you this
A more common name you will not find
Cities have thousands of them
Small towns have at least one
Why pretty much everywhere you go
You will find a Mr. Smith
Why once in china
In the middle of nowhere
This old Chinese man came out of his hut
Shook my hand
Said , Ni Hoa me Mr. Smith
I was truly and duly shocked
Being a Smith, he made me tea and served me lunch
Go to any hockey game and I will tell you this
In the stands
There will be 1000's and more
of Smiths, Mr. and Misses and all manner of Smiths
Why even the Montreal Canadians have one!!!
Now if you turn around, there will be a smith behind
The odds say this is true, and thankfully for all,
To hold a door open
To help an old lady across the street
The Smiths are gods angels
Lending a helping hand
Love and good cheer, you know a smith is near
Now you may ask me how I know all this to be true
The answer is quite simple you see
I know a Tim Smith
A kinder man you will not find
A family that loves him
Friends that appreciate him
A tavern that knows him by first name
Someone who always buys me a DRINK!!!!
A man of loyalty this is for sure
What else explains a Blackhawks fan?
So I tip my hat to my friend Tim
I raise a glass of good cheer and salute
To a family man of honor
With a heart of gold for those lucky enough
To know Him
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
As I lie here, eyes half closed, I wonder
Why does the grass wave to me?
Has the summer breeze asked it to greet me
And if so, what does it wish to say
But I think the Chinese whispers of a thousand blades
Might confuse the message beyond recognition
Perhaps I should ask instead, the shaded underbelly of the lonesome oak,
Standing aloof mid-field
For surely he hears the same story from the breeze
And then again perhaps I have it all wrong, it's a message from the grass,
So many strands waving their message make the pleasant breeze
If that is the case then, I think I must lie here a while longer
And listen to the story they wish to tell
Copyright © Nick Bagnall | Year Posted 2010
Slowly he opened the drawer and looked inside. Some time had passed since he last gazed upon the cloth that lay there. Years perhaps. Yes definitely years. The blotched rusty brown stains, yellowing its whiteness, spoke of its age. He reached in and moved the cloth aside. The chalybeous metal gleamed up at him. The last time he touched it was when he filled it, six chambers, three full, three empty. Fifty-fifty, why not fill them all? It would end it so much more quickly. The pain would be gone. The loneliness, the ever present deep, aching loneliness would finally end. He remembered the last time. So long ago, he had these same feelings. Feelings that left him doubting his life, doubting his world. Nothing could stop these feelings as if he was falling into an abyss. Never ending falling, deeper and deeper until all hope had left him. The darkness of his own mind blinding him to the beauty around him. He knew that beauty intimately, the beauty of a shared sunset, a walk on a beach, holding hands and laughing, making love in the grass in a breeze filled meadow, a single fragrant lavender rose, but what good is beauty that can't be shared? What good is love that no one wants? Back then there was time. He didn't want it to end but he saw no way out. The darkness was too deep, the pain too intense. The loneliness was simply unbearable. His decision was to leave it to fate. A fifty-fifty chance, fate, God, luck, call it what you will. It was of no concern to him.
Whatever it was he was still here, and up until this moment he was glad. He had found comfort in a warm caring relationship that lasted for years. He even found happiness, until life intervened and it was ripped away from him. He thought he had found it anew for a short while before he saw past their lies and felt the pain they caused. Now time no longer mattered. The Lonely haunted him again. That's how he grew to know it, The Lonely. Always present, always lurking close at hand. Watching him. Waiting for its moment, and its moment had finally come again. He had but one chance left.
A beautiful person had come into his life. Gentle and kind and full of the wonder that gave him the desire to try again. A friend, more than a friend to him she was his saviour. They talked and laughed and grew to know each other. She shared herself with him. Not her body, nor even her love, they were saved for another, but her intimate inner self. That part of her that was so difficult to share with anyone, even those who were closest to her. Her true self that resided deep below the superficial face that she shared with the world. His feelings grew for her and she enjoyed his attention which made him smile for the first time in a very, very long time, but he knew that it was destined to end when she spoke of her dreams and how they would lead her away from him. He let himself care anyway. Then it happened once again. The Lonely stepped in. He pushed her away because he was broken and he knew it, but then he had always been broken. With this sweet, caring person that meant so much to him he found he could no longer share his feelings. She had too much to bare in her own life to worry about shouldering his weight.
So, now, he was here again. The Lonely pushing deeper and deeper inside of him until he reached into the drawer and hefted the weight of the metal in his hand. It was heavier than he remembered. He slowly walked over to his bed and leaned back against it. His head pressed into the ornamental trim that created depth in the sleigh styled headboard. The pain went unnoticed. Slowly he placed the metal between his teeth. The taste of old cleaning oil danced on his tongue. For the briefest moment the thought of chipping a tooth flashed through his mind. It made him chuckle deep down in his gut. There was no fear. There was no hesitation. He allowed himself only an instant of remorse. He thought about those people who had been important in his life and the beautiful times they had shared until they disappeared. Then he wondered if they every really cared at all. His last thoughts were of his special friend, hoping that he had not hurt her like so many had done to him. Gently he squeezed.
He thought about squeezing again. End it now! But, Fate had spoken. Feeling mildly disappointed he moved his hand to his lap and stared at the instrument that had let him down. He heard a low laughter develop within him.
"Not so easy to get rid of me," it said. The Lonely was still there.
He moved from the bed and carefully wrapped it in the cloth and placed it back in the drawer, knowing it was not the last that he would see of it.
His stomach grumbled. Picking up his keys from the top of the dresser he turned and walked out of the door, mumbling to himself, "I guess it'll be Chinese tonight."
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2017
This recently happened to me.
I didn’t recover very well from it.
I just sat there
while my partner got dressed
and walked out on me.
She was shaking her head
in disbelief on the way out.
Here is what happened.
We are in the throes of
I am twisted up like a pretzel
with my tongue here,
my fingers there,
you know what
than Chinese mathematics.
I mean my tongue is doing a Spanish Tango
my fingers the Watusi
my center an African Tribal Dance
and when I say African Tribal Dance
I mean my ass
is shaking like a belly dancer
with a vibrator up her ass.
I could hear that sharp female voice
yelling like a soprano in an Italian Opera
and she’s yelling too
but with that deep voice of hers
like a banshee out of hell.
Oh no, oh no,
oh yes oh yes,
oh oh oh oh...
like fireworks on the fourth of July
boom...boom, boom, boom, boom...
I do it
at the peak of orgasm
I do it.
I really blow it.
No pun intended.
I mean we've all done it...
instead of saying her name
At the peak of orgasm
I yell out
my own name!
Knuckle Head Yvonne
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...
Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...
I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.
Visited him again today, heard mass for him,
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.
I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.
All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?
I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??
I stepped on a lizard. Again
Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.
But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.
I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.
One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.
Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.
This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard.
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.
The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(
I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.
By this time, I am crying, sobbing.
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.
What broke my heart, was to see that lizard.
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides.
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"
I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out,
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
And it was all my fault.
My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.
But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did.
There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.
I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.
I buried them and still feel so sorry.
In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.
I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now,
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?
I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.
I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).
I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.
I just feel so guilty, with this happening.
I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.
I know it's all a part of life...
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.
Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.
It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...
I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.
And we can never be the same.
Copyright © kabuteng P.iNk k. | Year Posted 2014
I can have the suite recovered
For a thousand pounds or so.
Or, my skirts all torn, all mended
With a stitch that doesn’t show.
At the Chinese round the corner
There are noodles and fried rice,
And a menu for the family
Which I’m sure is very nice.
But the Indian’s even better –
One may ‘buy one get one free!’
And a card pushed through
The removal of a tree.
Came a highly-coloured brochure
(Which was really quite a treat)
One could choose exotic flowers
Or plant food that’s fit to eat.
No, I didn’t really think so.
And each joined the growling
Of things that were not welcome
In the bin, where they belong.
There’s a person here named
With an offer I can’t miss.
For she says she’ll do the ironing
So I don’t need to. Bliss!
Now, this week’s not halfway
through yet –
And what else is in the box?
Then the envelope, when
Offered ever-lasting socks!
We must not forget the pizzas,
They can be delivered too.
And the Cotton Traders’ booklet
Which includes a nifty shoe.
Now, that brings us up to
And the pile grows on apace.
There’s some help for aged
‘Use this cream and change
There’s so much magic in this
If you use it on your hair
In a week you’ve vast
Though you had but little
We’ve a little respite Friday;
It’s a letter from a friend,
Plus a bill that I must settle;
Not at all the usual trend.
Yes, next day returns to
Would I help the lifeboats,
And a chap who’ll do some
That should save my aching
Then – oh, day of rest and
It’s a day that’s free from
‘Till I’m startled by the
‘Please don’t miss this boiler
Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2014
Gung Hay Fat Choy, black and white it seems
Oh, it is nothing but Happy New year in Chinese
Call it Lantern festival, pleasant spring festival
Celebrations of 15 days, each one ritualized.
Celebrate, the freedom from that beast Nian
Who swallowed humans in a single bite,
Scare him away with crackers and red color
On this day of GuNian, “ Pass over the Nian”
Offer prayers, to the ancestors and all Gods
Feed the Dogs well as it is dogs’ birthday
Visit friends and relatives to pay respects
Prepare drinks from vegetables, eat noodles
Fish for long life and success in life.
Hang colorful lanterns, eat glutinous rice balls
Enjoy with family welcoming the New Year.
January 18, 2015
Form: Free Verse
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2015
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 twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
by just looking at it from the distance
a picturesque view captures right away our hearts
a stair like going up to heaven on its magnificent appearance
a cogent power beckoning every tourist to visit and become a part
of this historical place and one of our world’s beauty spots
the People’s Republic of China stands tall with pride and glory
in possession of this gigantic dragon-formed and walled stair
a product of their ancestors’ concerted effort to protect their country
from heartless invaders who want to ruin without care
so, they’d built it with masonry and rocks strong enough and fair
let’s all go and experience this great and wonderful place
anytime of the year but winter is still the best, I bet
climbing on every step of the walled stair with nuance pace
so lofty but a gentle breeze will extricate ourselves from sweat
more power and energy will be saved and it’s a challenge a bit
Great Wall of China has been built and renovated until Ming’s Dynasty
a creative work of art by the Chinese and their great masterpiece
along the mountain sides to the top winding up with majesty
so impressively built as if trying to reach an endless place
a breathtaking beauty inviting us to capture tenacious memories
climbing on Great Wall is so much fun and enjoyable
a stop on each pillar shows a full view of the scenery giving us a great tour
a part along our way up is a long chain of padlocks for lovers and couples
an everlasting love, peace, bliss and everything they’ll wish for
believing that leaving a padlock and key there, wishes will be granted for sure
the most challenging and rewarding part is the incentive we’ll get
if we climb and reach the peak, a certificate for us to remember
so, to make our experiences with travel expenses commensurate
let’s all gather our strength and be determined as great explorers
for us to get one of the most precious moments in life to cherish forever
April 8, 2013
The composition of this poem was also inspired by my wonderful experience in this place when we’d our school tour last March 7-10, 2011 at Beijing. Both great happiness and terrible sadness I’ve felt that time. My happiness to see the beauty of the place but terrible sadness was deep inside of me because I was thinking of my father who was already at his critical health condition and, I went back home to visit him just after coming back from our joyful tour.
Contest: Seven Wonders
Sponsor: Greatest Poet Poet Destroyer
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2013
My imaginary restaurant will be named “All That You Imagine.”
Any food you can imagine, you will be served.
Thanks to technology and a world-class cooking staff,
I can offer my patrons any food that they desire.
However, they must book their table three days in advance!
If their wish is for a dish like their mama used to cook,
they need only provide my chefs with the recipe or its description.
If their palate leans to the exotic, they need only give its name.
My research team, like no other, can track down any foreign dish.
From All-American delights like mac‘n cheese or burgers and fries
to all the others: Indian, Mexican, Brazilian, Chinese, Italian, French,
and the list goes on and on. We can do it all! Everyone wants to come here!
By the way, my restaurant has become a tourist attraction.
Renowned for its varied and eclectic menus, it is visited by thousands daily.
If restaurants were malls, mine would be the largest and the most incredible.
Patrons may reserve a private room or choose a table
from one of many wondrous atmospheric sections.
Each section is a restaurant in and of itself, with its own kitchen
and a staff of waiters and waitresses dressed as befitting that section’s theme.
From jungle room to bar and grill to futurist (where servers dress in pristine white),
I have over one hundred types of settings to match the mood and the type of food;
some with karaoke, some with splendid views, utilizing IMAX, for example,
some with magic shows, others with comedy, and one room with a waterfall
where divers perform amazing feats. There are classic sections
where patrons may dance in ballroom style; imagine any type of music you like,
I am sure we have it in one of our beautiful sections!
For the romantics, candlelight dinners can be enjoyed next to a faux River Seine.
Tourists, for a small fee, may observe the many rooms in a guided tour.
We use technology that allows the tours to not disturb our diners.
It’s that same technology which allows my restaurant to flourish,
for expert computer techs arrange for the smooth operation
of matching patrons to sections and coordinating everything efficiently.
Favorite recipes may be purchased from us too in our gift shops.
Souvenirs and samples of our most popular food items
are sold there along with a wide array of unique gifts!
Nothing is impossible in “All That You Imagine.”
Well, except for one thing: No endangered specie, such as monkey or koala
will be served here!
(Getting ready to enter the contest I noticed I had misread the rules. Sorry, I don't know if I can redo it any other way. I am calling this prose and hoping it's acceptable!)
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
During the Civil War, the Mason Dixon Line
Divided North from South, separating families
In 1961 guard towers were erected
On the Berlin Wall, separation strategies
Although the Berlin Wall was finally torn down
The Great Wall of China remains a monument
Created to protect the Chinese Empire
Keep out nomad invaders with a firm armament
Now a line spans the aisle of the US Congress
They’re seated to the right or left, never centered
And if a brave independent tries to speak out
Be assured this courageous soul will be censored
Lines are used to separate wholes into sections
What mankind needs is more unification now
Segregation is wrong, regardless of intent
To those who seek to eradicate “lines,” I bow
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
~~~ A Day In The Life ~~~
Up at dawn and off to work.
Garden center today , that was a perk.
Watched two hummingbirds in mating dance.
Almost embarrassing but I snuck a glance.
With an hour to go I'd had too much sun
so back inside until the shift is done.
Long shift over, off to the store.
Milk and Chinese food but I still need more.
Stop at the liquor store for some wine
and now this day is turning out fine.
Dinner is done and nap time is now.
That hour in bed refreshes somehow.
Now open the wine and pour a glass.
In front of the T.V. I'll park my ass.
We single women are fine on our own.
You don't have to feel lonely just because you're alone.
Tomorrow... I'll start all over again
but this "overworked, underpaid" can be a real pain.
my day today 16 /07/ 2015
Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2015
I approach her with the same
Love I approach my family with.
Her skin is black.
I try to speak a few words in her
Native language to welcome her.
Her skin is brown.
I married a Chinese/Hawaiian
and our child is beautiful.
His skin is yellow/brown.
I write poetry about the Native
Americans to celebrate them.
Their skin is red.
I fit in with every race because
My color contains all colors.
My skin is white.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Note: In honor of all the recent innocent deaths.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
A Chinese lad was at table dawdling with his pork and rice.
This upset his mama-san who reprimanded him in a trice!
"Clean your plate! Children in America are starving, son!"
And she continued to berate him - her tirade had only begun!
"Your papa-san has a great job while dads in America are on the dole.
Our economy is booming while that of America is lagging, on the whole!
Papa makes good money to provide Americans with the things they need.
You should be very thankful for the jobs they send here, yes indeed!"
"Kids in America can't get a job even with a college education,
But, son, America will provide you with a job in any old vocation!
This is the land of opportunity, my boy, thanks to American capitalists!
You must appreciate all they have done for us Chinese communists!"
"Not so long ago your father and I didn't have a yuan to our name.
Now we have a house and brand new car - life will never be the same!
So I don't want to hear any of your sass or fiddling with your food.
Thanks to the generous Americans, they have lifted our nation's mood!"
"I want you to clean your plate and grow strong to follow in your dad's shoes.
Uncle Sam needs you to make TVs and shirts or anything else they choose.
No more lip! Clean your plate! I want to see those chopsticks flying!
Think about the kids in America who'll got to bed tonight hungry and crying!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012
SPRING HOUSE CLEANING ( reverse Etheree)
what an awful mess!
dust cobwebs outside dirt
it boggles my mind to think
when I think it’s of other things
wouldn’t it be nice to take a nap
all day but then the mess will still be there
know what? I saw an add in the paper
this old chinese lady cleans houses
she is very reasonable
654 – 7328
“hello chinese lady?
you say she’s out now?
what does she charge?......
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2010
Autos whizzing by
streetlights and apartment lights cut through the shadows
TV is off - I pick up a pen
Sit down - write another poem
Tomorrow a poetry walk in New York city
Words sometimes leap off the page
Find their way into your inner being
City poets capture the essence of the asphalt homeland
with a well constructed line
There are dangers in this large metropolis
But there is also joy
If you know here to look for it
Drank an egg cream and ate an egg roll today
At a Lower East Side festival
Saw a klezmer band, a Chinese orchestra
and the Peking Opera
What a panoply of cultures here!
The sparkling eyes of a child
catch mine for a moment
We both smile
The years leave their mark on the city streets
and on the inhabitants of this North American Mecca
But this city has a large heart
Sometimes it is difficult to realize that
But at times the soul of New York
reaches out and grabs you
Explains, in urban tones, what it is all about
Copyright © Matthew Anish | Year Posted 2014
Little boy curls, sweets, and treats, lots of love,
When granny meets
Big boy, cigarettes, booze, and “love”
Uni, work, much too hard, heavens above!
Wife number one. Crazy, 5 months; I’m gone.
Wife number two, only wanted money, but two great
Daughters filled my heart.
Then a stranger came in our shade; I’m off! Enough!
And new start made.
Chinese wife was number three, dim sum at weekends, scented tea;
But told many lies, short time, cries. No more dim-sum; now eating pies,
Fractured love, attracting flies.
Retired with pension, not too large, should I live on a barge?
The winter’s cold, so didn’t dare; off to South East Asia I did repair.
My darling wife, she’s number four, the best of the lot;
(She loves me more)
Now I’m treated like a king, and gladly purchased golden ring.
Sugar in the morning, cream at night, best of all, we rarely fight.
Now in clover with my honey, some would say, that’s kind of funny,
At sixty two, you’ve waited long, for love’s sweet note, to sing its song.
Yes indeed, the truth is queer, how crooked, early life did steer; dark clouds
Haunt my dim dark past; but now only sun, with Vietnam lass.
Written for Bio contest 17/042014
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015