Best Bamboo Poems
Mist feathery drifts
last night’s breath loosening
above basalt slopes of Huatung
Pacific swallows trace morning brushwork
over Fuli’s rice paddies
new green scented with rain.
Xiuguluan River flows jade mountain-born
among ancestral stones
white willows in Ruisui weep
dew-kissed
cycad fronds catching first sunlight
Leaf pearls gather on my thatched sandals
Walami earth holds stories in its coolness.
Bihe Pond rests hidden in Wanrong’s stillness
waters reflecting the tribe’s quiet prayers
Bamboo leaves in green and gold
crested mynas gather in quiet repose
wind moves with the chime of a temple bell.
Ancestral path wanders into the Central Range
oolong tea clouds drift
above Qilai’s blue ridges
A white egret lifts over Guangfu’s terraces
air clear as poured Longjing.
A bulbul calls
blue magpie glides
the slow unlayering of day
Huatung Calligrapher’s span warm to newborn light
time unspools—
bright
unmeasured.
Light widens
dawn follows Yu Shan’s shadowed valleys
the world in quiet promise
soft light
drifting into morning.
I stand tall like a bamboo tree,
Strong winds make my body to sway,
Storm makes me blown away,
But I still stand like a bamboo tree.
Trials and problems that I face everyday,
I have the strength to pursue it anyway,
The dreams that I have in mind,
Though it’s simple but it's one of a kind.
Insults and negative people may put me down,
On my head, I still have my precious crown,
God gave me the courage to be strong,
Like a bamboo tree it sways bravely where I belong.
I stand tall and firm with my decision,
To be successful because of my determination,
No one can destroy my aim in life, I tell you my friend,
Like a bamboo tree I survive, I can till the end.
Standing straight and tall, I am happy among my next of kin,
graceful and gracious, accepting and at one with nature.
The gentle whisper of the wind is music in our midst,
A cornucopia of chirping sounds, gleeful gifts from the birds.
Do you ever wonder how I have grown at last
For it was only six weeks ago that I was not on this spot
Yet it would seem that right before your very eyes
I suddenly appeared overnight, you were surprised!
My story cannot be told without mentioning the farmer.
Day after day, year after year he never gave up on me.
A powerful testimony of perseverance and trust, and hope and faith
in The One Almighty and... the power of a dream.
Knowing the value of patience, he waited and cared for me
oh so tenderly and never gave up. I dared not ever
conceive of disappointing him, so while he gave my needs
every day, I did what I had to do... I grew.
Not above, but underneath the ground, where no one can see,
to build that inner strength, deeply rooted in my seed.
One day in the fifth year, the right time came and
I literally leaped off the ground. Miracles do abound!
I am ever giving. I give food to the hungry, a shelter
for the homeless...even a bed. I am seat and a fence.
I provide clothing and more. It is my nature to give.
From my innermost being I provide freshness in the air.
Strong and resilient, I am not cowed by storms
They give their all to topple me from where I stand,
yet I hold my ground. I may bend and sway for the wind,
but after a while I stand, straighten and do not lose my grip.
I learned to accept my weakness and be proud of my strength
An image of one who is calm, I am at peace with myself.
26 August 2015
bamboo pipes heaving raindrops
breaking silence against stone
deer runs off
Bamboo Tree
26 February 2012
Evergreen tree-like green herbage
Abounding woody stems travelling upwards
In a flick, moments-of-memory refuse to cede
At the sound of rustling leaves, pay off a reverie
Pliant in face of neither storms nor monsoons
It just sways and bends but never lose its elegance
Misty outside and leafing out to commune
Submissive to nature’s onrush by its restless dance
As the wind blows in every direction
Unmindful are we to disregard nature’s course
God’s invitation to see and listen into its perfection
On how each sight and sound heal one’s scarce
Bamboo nodes strengthen its stem
Each step is a faint for its humble growth
Interaction – a never dying language for ecosystem
Find comfort to its shadows as a token of troth
Not built for eternity but new shoots will replace
To repeat its vow to shed green leaves to procreate
An inseparable companion to give refuge and embrace
For all passing guests finding a way to relate
Noel N. Villarosa
Stray words
In the windy breeze
Now heard
In a gentle squeeze
Soft sounds
In the bamboo pines
Now ground
In stray breezy lines
Sweet strains
In the rustling leaves
Speak plain
In green windy brief
Soft moans
In the tensile twirl
Leaves groan
In the whizzy swirl
Leon Enriquez
17 January 2015
Singapore
bamboo of life
tree of life and soul
wonder of tree or grass?
That treasury of memories most precious,
With these few words I seek to praise.
It is our school yearbooks of the past,
The repository of events from happier days.
I thank GOD for time to compose this tale
And for youth of spirit to view these scenes.
Cause this adventure began so long ago,
When we started the trek as kings and queens.
The voyage took me far beyond this shore,
Where clocks no longer tick and time marches not,
And the almond-eyed girl strums her instrument
Until sweet dreams overtake me asleep on my cot.
I follow her as my vision assumes a landscape,
Across green pastures and meandering streams.
‘Til a pyramid of bamboo comes into view,
A quite curious structure of bamboo beams.
There at the entrance I climb the marble steps,
And carry this precious book into the darkness.
Being guided by the inner aura of mystique,
I gave the volume rest in the drawer of a chest.
As I bowed to request GOD’s grace and blessing,
The fire in my soul yearned for a divine quencher.
The whole world seemed beautiful as I left,
Knowing that tomorrow starts a new adventure.
New moonrise
Luna aura;
Misty magic
~~~~~~~~~
Swaying trees
Tender saplings;
Spring decor
~~~~~~~~~
Wet evening air
Weather ominous;
Midnight storm
~~~~~~~~~
Random faces
Crowded walkway;
Bus stop moments
~~~~~~~~~
Old lady smiles
Ask directions;
Someone helps
~~~~~~~~~
Minimalist
Artistic brush strokes;
Less is more
~~~~~~~~~
Dreary weather
Thunder punctuates;
Wet window panes
~~~~~~~~~
New book in hand
Held but not read;
Touch momento
~~~~~~~~~
TV sitcom
Chapter 29;
Good versus Bad
~~~~~~~~~
Evening glow
Deep dark conspires;
Stars come out
~~~~~~~~~
By my bedside
iPad at the ready;
Verses emerge
~~~~~~~~~
Poignant thoughts
Lurking unseen;
Words confront
~~~~~~~~~
Airport terminal
Last call booming;
Gateway rush
~~~~~~~~~
Sleepy sensations
Limp body crashes;
Dreamy escapades
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
28 January 2015
Singapore
A Bamboo song
welcome the whisper of the wind
with its peaceful smiles
the swaying twigs
perform a beautiful song
and provide the encouragement
the leaves dancing in the rush of joys
evoke the playful spirit
and eliminate the worry
though its branches and roots
are small and weak
the wind was blowing hard
its strong rods remained firmly
swinging in the shade of the foliage
soaring higher
with its strong confidence
donated a million of gratitude
no room for the feeling of envy to pass by
no chance for a glance
on the beauty of another tree
it remained in its own beauty
even without a decorated flowers or fruits
contributed itself
to entertain through its peacefulness
provided shade on the surrounding
gave a ride across the ocean of difficulties
beautiful leaves
graceful branches
compactness roots
solid stem
lead the bamboo orchestra with its passion
and perform the beautiful song
the bamboo song
in the rhythm of its silence
there is a sense of peacefulness
(c) Sukmawati Komala
16 August 2013
hollow sounds of bamboo. . .a blue heron
Sketchbook Journal
It must be the hottest summer
when a bamboo weave lays adrift,
a little stiff yet the motion
of its flowing body offers a dance
to the sun and moon that hides
the zing of heat---burning, breaking.
Brian Strand's No 770
Songbird singing
Morning lullaby;
Awesome mystery
~~~~~~~~~
Picture portrait
Sexy scenes;
Fiery flowers
~~~~~~~~~
Newsy headlines
Sensational scandal;
Hyper sales count
~~~~~~~~~
Acid rain
Foggy conundrum;
Sick malaise
~~~~~~~~~
Knowing heart
Grief beyond brief;
Defying commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Pain malingers
Salt on wounds;
No escape plan
~~~~~~~~~
Walkway movement
Busy feet dash;
Rushing prescriptions
~~~~~~~~~
Septuagenarian plus
Minding your own soul;
Wonder speaks well
~~~~~~~~~
Sun-drenched rain
Mad concoction;
What else is new?
~~~~~~~~~
Joy sings the blues
Why cannot tell;
Paradoxical
~~~~~~~~~
Feisty neighbour
Too much adrenaline;
Another syndrome
~~~~~~~~~
Shadow play
Bold silhouettes;
Vivid imagery
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
29 September 2016
Singapore
Grasses reach neck-high
Or beyond when left to grow...
But one reached the sky
The royal chambermaid and the young warrior, fleeing the wrath of the heavenly palace, were flying low, their robes trailing through the air like colourful ghosts. Their elopement to the earthly domain had been condemned by the celestial throne, and now the soldiers of the pursuing army, forbidden to descend any further into the dwelling place of mortals and beasts, the line between heaven and earth being inviolable, had massed in the sky, each with a white cloud underfoot, their eyes following the desperate flight of the fugitives, two bright specks sweeping over the barren landscape far, far below. The commanding general raised his sword.
Deserting the blue,
Match made in heaven, earthbound,
Gravity of love.
The two lovers could sense that the end was near. Flying huddled together, his arm around her shoulders, they looked into each other’s eyes, a wistful smile on their lips, the wind pushing a thin strand of the chambermaid’s hair onto her face like the track of a tear. To die next to each other, just above the realm where they could be human about their love, was the second best fate they could have wished for.
Doomed by human hearts,
Celestials embracing fate,
Flight interrupted.
The sky darkened. A million jade arrows poured straight down from the heavens, blocking out sun and hope, whistling through the air, a shrill dirge, then smashed like thunderbolts into the land, their shafts and feathers quivering in a green fury at having been sunk in this filthy turf forever. Presently, deep in their midst, out of the trembling, seedless earth, appeared a pair of mysterious red flowers that, through the numberless winters since, have refused to wither.
A merciless sky,
A deluge of green arrows,
Bamboo forest sways.