Best Chen Poems
CORONALITY (1)
Polyneuropathy of a poisonous dark child,
Weapon of mass destruction,
Born to the family called Earth,
Name Corona, last name Virus,
Nickname Covid, aged nineteen (19),
Nationality China, who premeditatedly planned
The glint of bodies: naked, suited or adorned,
Down by the old soul (earth).
International terrorism at it's best,
Who is going to be the jury
To hear and decide this infliction of life's injury.
Death fashionably attired with a face new
And name, Corona, reminiscent of something I knew,
Now the ghost of life that begins
Can freely travel from Italy to America,
From United kingdom to Faroe island
Even without aviation and documents
To waver in arms of loved ones or pen pals.
What's going on with our beloved Earth?
Carcasses; I smell a rat,
Chinese government wears the aroma
And Wuhan Institute of Virology,
I see Shi Zengli's lab oozes 'the dead rat'
And Major General Chen Wei's hands stained
With tactics, strategies and blood
Like a small red circle on a white flag.
Welcome to the apocalypse, age of Ragnarok.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © 2020
Author: Runping Chen
The desk sends forth its particular fragrance
That gladden people’s hearts.
That is the sweet-smelling of the old camphor bodies
And into the impression of my childhood immerses.
The shade extended my fellow villagers’ strolling;
Countless summer nights embraced people’s joyful cooling.
The huge and tabescent trunk held up
The wind and frost for generations’ living.
The refreshing breeze was kissing the head of the tree.
Kindly pulled the old camphor closer
Some strands of cooking smokes
Vaguer and vaguer.
The production teams’ whistles were resounding over the village,
And grownups shouldered the sun and moon
Hurrying to the hills and fields
While the old camphor collected the children’s imaginative yields.
--In its chest
The childhoods would not be lonely and flurried
Counting from the stitches of leaves
Thousands and thousands of suns.
Many rivers of time were flowing around;
With no sense of time, the sadness I’ve known.
Since I was away, many shifts of the sunrise and sunset
I came back home and found the old camphor fallen on the ground.
It’s lying on the ground with no voice and sound,
Being dying and breathing
The merely last fragrance of its life
In front of the horrible carpenters who circled around.
The carpenters held their stainless saws
Ignoring the old camphor’s itches and aches.
On its shoulder was an owl
With the mouth open, and family ruined after all.
Prizing up the mouth for no use of vomiting sadness,
The birds sang no songs any more in the sky
Because they could hardly find back
Houses and household articles among the green leaves.
Children carried in both hands the remains of the old camphor’s bones,
Hating to pile them in the firewood house.
When the setting sun was sliding down the west hill ridges,
I walked back and forth around the old camphor tree.
Confession
Author: Runping Chen
From the peak of soul
I carry a handful of clean soil;
From the rapids of life
I scoop up a ladle of clear water,
And mix them up together.
I searched and fetched the bricks of affection
To build up a kitchen range.
I burn my life as igniting the firewood
To heat the pot of faith
So as to stew leisurely
Gurgles of the poetic thinking,
In silence.
fireworks light up sky.
hi-lo buildings, pumped-up torch
of New York Harbor,
ripples of copious ships,
excited helicopters.
the twins are very happy,
long before they fall
on their smoking knees
and crumble to dust
1/9/2021
Manhattan Celebration by Alexander Chen
China Spies and Lies
Concentration camps in the north
disappearing book sellers in the south
Chinese spies hunt one and all
Army of thieves , worldwide
Zhao Ziyang, where is he?
erased from Chinese history
where is the brave young man
who battled one thousand tanks?
Xu Jiatun, where is he?
erased from Chinese history
truth has no play in China today
only death and propaganda reign
Xi Jinping, crimes against humanity
Lu Shaye, propogandist to the core
Leaders of a revolution long dead
corruption their cause, their only rules
Coal plants and cigarettes
Keep your silences
even you may lose your breath
This is China, spies and lies
Jailed Activists
Ai Weiwei
Bao Tong
Bao Zunxin
Cai Lujun
Chen Pokong
Cheng Jianping
Gao Zhisheng
Guo Quan
He Depu
Hu Jia
Huang Qi
Ilham Tohti
Jiang Lijun
Jiang Rong
Jiang Yanyong
Jiang Yefei
Li Hai
Li Zhi
Liao Yiwu
Liu Di
Liu Xiaobo
Qin Yongmin
Shi Tao
Tan Zuoren
Tang Baiqiao
Wang Bingzhang
Wang Dan
Wang Quanzhang
Wang Xiaoning
Wang Youcai
Wei Jingsheng
Wu Gan
Xu Zhiyong
Yang Jianli
Yuan Hongbing
Yue Xin
Zeng Jinyan
Zhao Changqing
Zhao Lianhai
Human being shell sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep forever
Right up we must get to the hard truth
and not blind out the fact
that our wisdom and common sense
should not have been overestimated more
in certain crucial circumstances
when we have got access even for instance
to the limitless power and possibilities,
as it happened in French Alpes,
when Lubits tempted deadly by the very thought and way
that he will might turn airbus to the crash
for instance filling the God legacy and omnipotence.
Entirely all deals and events
which demanded limitless power and responsibility,
limitless calculations,
limitless competence and preciseness
and limitless hard works and efforts
might be totally excluded
from our control and assessment,
we might got all this staff
to the autopilot guiding
of modern technologies, GPS and other computations
that works much more better
without any human intervention
for the very working processes.
Mr. Al Gore knew something about it
when he planned the Global system
of autopilot security services.
for the benefits and survive people
in the modern jungle of high tech.
You judge the Lubits atrocious action
which lead to murder of 150 passengers,
yes, you are right but also we must judge
the Sirian dictator and North Korean Kim Chen Yn
and national lieder of Russian Federation
and hundredth other persons
sticking up deadly to limitless power and rule,
we must judge also religions, traditions
which despised the freedom of person
and right of women and children
and entire world must switch on
to the Global safety infrosracture.
Human shall sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep.
If someone held limitless power
even for instance
close to us or at far distance,
its mean the world goes down to precipice.
God please help us
expelled out and ousted
the myriads our tirans and autocrats
in power and in preparation, in family
in our soul and in our mentality.
Human being shell sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep forever.
http://www.fishpond.co.nz/Books/Eleanor-Rigby-II-Zamir-Osorov/9781482830385?
Author: Runping Chen
In his mother’s eyes,
The child is dragging her coat brim;
On father’s broad shoulders,
I am still weak and young.
Today, the swallows are trying a fly
While I am also about to leave home.
At the entrance to the village, the bus is moving ahead.
Mother’s tears shedding like threads fastened the child’ heels.
Exhorting me a hundred thousand times
How could she exert a full heart of worries on and on,
However far and near, just as beyond the horizon.
The wrinkles on father’s forehead
Were crowded with drastic heartbeats
And he saw the child stepping forward
The weak and puny footprints.
Perhaps walking on and on alone,
The child might understand the hardships that life trecked on.
Birds will fly high and deer will run fast.
This long journey is on my life course the first.
To rouse the young wings
So as to be firm and proud
And to say farewell to many years of shield
While I’m trying to fly, to a distant sky.
Mother, wipe off thy tears, please.
And tell father to wait for the swallows’ return;
Don’t walk back and forth at the entrance of the village
Where the cypress tree is in the direction of my homing passage.
I will stretch my wings that have gradually become browny
And perch on your life eventually.
Author: Runping Chen
Here is the noisy lodging house
Where I cannot compose a poem in reply to Dongpo’s Prelude to Water Melody
Because whoever can hardly
Bear the accumulated homesickness.
I sang loudly
In a melancholy.
In an avulsion, my voice
Sang to the top of my bent.
The tacit moon,
crude and rash like that,
Wouldn’t realize
Her radiance gave a burn to the man away home.
Would you like some moon cake, my friends?
No! I’d rather go outside
And have a bite of the moon.
Therein I might relish that taste.
I wanted to throw my mind up into the starry sky
And swim in the limpid moonlight.
The cool breeze raised the brows of the clouds.
My heart was even brighter than the Mid-autumn moon’s eye
While however I opened my heart I couldn’t see my hometown
A both ancient and young sadness of parting,
Always classical
And refreshing now and forever.
Note:
Prelude to Water Melody is the Ci poem written by the famous poet Su Dongpo in the Mid-Autumn Festival of 1076 (the Song Dynasty). It takes moon, full and crescent, as the symbol to describe the reunions and separations, joys and sorrows of people’s life.
That was the worthiest step and decision
our pressing to US for its airbase in Manas expelling
from our land. The politic so vexed
so self-destructive and depressive
from various points and consequences.
When all our ancestors
from beginning of times, edem and hell
dreamed unlock our region
for west legions,
even if that were a war troops.
We gratefully received Alexander the Great,
for his strong impetus
joining West and East
and after his death
created own legion
of great conquerors,
from Kudzula Kadfises,
till Atilla the Great, Tamerlan
and last dreamers - great Mogols.
All of them devoured to reach
the West values almost maniacal
through India, Russian, Byzantium, Germany
mainly on horses
but sometimes on bouts of Baltics Vikings.
So mister president of Kyrgyz Republic
be honest and wise and brave
for truly friendship with West air force,
that so kind and friendly
deployed in our land
and so profitable
give us great money for our safety,
instead our paying them.
Why on Earth we trying
to be so polite with Russian
and so harsh and rude with USA?
West in our hearts
ask our grandfathers
from Kudzula
till yours favorite Kutuzov?
All of them fighting for freedom
and West values.
I didn understand completely
yours Kremlin patron
for his unnatural hatred
the USA and West as whole
as if Russia don't belong to Europe,
so strangely polite with various enemies
of West,
as if he badly want to leave
in company
with Ahmanijad, Bashar Asad,
Kim Chen Yr
and other moderns Orcas and Goblins,
where nothing from common sense and eloquent.
We are urgently ask you, mister Putin,
left this airbase with us.
Kyrgyz people so long
wanted to be with West
even with its military base
better, then with traditional allies
our bastard friends and cultural comrades
around us
right in the centre
so long and hopeless locked Eurasia.
The tinted walls’ filled with paintings -
Max, Bull, Fanch, Chen and Noah.
The mantel, shelves, tabletops cleared
to be lemon-dusted and windex-spritzed.
Company’s coming. Lots to be done.
Blinds brushed, windows squeegeed,
cobwebs cleared, Blue-teal rug vacuumed -
prepare for our grandsons’ two week visit.
The saddest task - relinquishing my books.
Of course the boys are all worth it. Home
will be filled with laughter, arguing, tablets,
wrestling, rewards, cooking, two more boys.
Four grandsons and grandma against the world.
In my midst a sea chief, defender of mankind,
strength of God and then there’s “fifth.” These
are the boys to men that surround me - proud.
Company’s coming, not rest, nor peace nor quiet.
The floors, walls, doors, sheets, pots and pans
will be amused and explored. TV and tablets,
feet out the door - to parks, golf, church and more.
6/6/2022
Once worked with a lady named Shirley Chen
Nice to get reacquainted with this sweetie from back then
And the rest of the group
As we shared chicken soup
Promised to meet same place in a year's time again
When Rico said, Thirty days will go by
and I’ll be forgotten after I die
I knew what I had to do
I’ll make a book for you
At least the cover will catch your eye
I decided to do this in case he croaks
It's a chapbook with his incredible jokes
Double-entendres filled with sex
At Kinko's-AKA-Fed-Ex
Obsessed with Vladimir's power, a hoax
Thousands of words it cost me some chen
Kinko’s gets it—they always have been
Lucky for Rico Leffanta
I have chosen the right fonta
At my source where they make things happen
Mana'o wau e ola mau 'oe
translation: I hope you live forever!
Author: Runping Chen
Here arrived the strange way station
And the train was like a long snake,
Leaning on the small platform. The dawn was at the scene
While I was silently standing on the strange place,
Just as a lonely star on the night screen.
The wind from the platform
Drove me away into the waiting hall.
The poor building fled away from the night darkness
With the half-waking lights, its winking eyes
Which looked at the old clock on the south wall.
The night was bantering
The travellers’ drowsiness laid on the benches.
The leaving people’s heartbeats hurried the clock pendulum
While the staying ones having been snoring
But me seated on the bench and shivering
Several stars stitched to the roaring train
And flew away
As if it cut through the sky screen
From whose rupture the noisy was gushing—
Washing faces; giving a lift; serving you dinner or breakfast noodles.
I struggled to keep up my spirit
Just like the morning star in the east sky
Nervously peeping around
At a few lumps of burning clouds on the grey screen
When the stories at the way station were again on show in sunshine.
A star is born among teen bards
and soon he'll lead in Yale's vanguards.
Young Will Chen shines, a full ride won;
his language skills beam bright, bar none.
Congratulations! best regards!
December 9, 2022
AN: Quadri-lngual high school senior poet, William Chen was accepted
full tuition paid at Yale on December 1, 2022. A long awaited moment never
to fade from his memory. He posts at a fellow site called All-Poetry.
form: a quintilla, Spanish quintain
contest: December Memento
sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Author: Runping Chen
Gazing at the yellowish walls around
I kept myself at the corner of the room.
Although I intended to disgorge
All the skein of ashy sorrow in my mind,
Within the restrain of predicament
I heard nobody’s voice outside
Hardly can I find the track of light
And neither can I knock at the door of my heart.
Outside the window, door, and house,
Everywhere the glinting brilliance is.
The morning sun is baptized by the morning glow
While in the haze the gloomy mood is moving to and fro.