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
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,
Mixing the Yangtzee, Hei Long Jiang, and Chang Jiang into a savory paste of veal and kiwi green scallions and chives.
The distinct sound of chopping drowned my thoughts, easing my stress, and bringing a unique rhythm into my mind.
The dough, seeping under her fingers, was firm yet malleable
as if she was molding
the future.
The clicking of the gas stove, rumbling of the pot, flattening of the dumpling skins, the clinking of bowls and chopsticks, the scrubbing noises in the sink.
A rousing prelude to an intoxicating fugue…
Dinner
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.
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 –
and together
the picture paints
your presence.
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 bells,
Displaying of true grace and poise.
Manicured plants, slow songs and arts,
Early Sundays a skew,
To walk on this road, a foreign mind wanders,
To feel one of only a few.
This once was a place of long pondered dreams,
Of esthetic smoke screens,
Of mystery wonder and awe,
Now shrouded behind bureaucratic decline,
Can China be China once more?
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 once
heard.
________________
Note: Guzheng is a traditional Chinese musical instrument.
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 voice screams. An old woman smiles.
I realize then it has not been my imagination. I grin at the old
Woman, before I realize it is my reflection in a storefront window.
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?
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 the lantern festival
At home when with his wife
He hangs them at end of bed
Lights them with a candle, to be read
If the White one burns out first
A Boy they will be blessed
If the Red one burns out first
A girl will grace the nest
This tradition is dying out a shame is what I say
The son in law has a right to be the guest this day
Cos mother in law always says she is right
To be second best one day is an internal fight
Red envelope
Bursting with luck
Dragons dancing in the street
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, cruelly, killed by the monster
Who has slain more than all the century’s wars
And my private sorrow for which there is no funeral.
I remember your straying husband also
Loved the Chinese Opera. What will happen
If we all meet between the acts?
Surely forgiveness will come like snow on the mountain
And we will live in a harmony that can never be suppressed
In a slow majestic music that takes account of grief.
(C) Rosemarie Rowley
From IN MEMORY OF HER (2008)
The Lunar Cycle
Holiday of fifteen days
Red lanterns shed light
The way back is the way forward
Birth to death to resurrection—
A man that will impact everyone
Rest in the Chinese pages!
This fountain of discovery
Reveals the essence of this Man and
The Plan of the God who is Greater than All!
In the book of the Han dynasty
I look at the record on the 9th March 5 BC
I see the bright star as reflected in the Gospels
It signifies the beginning of a new era
The terror of sin would be washed away
Because of this Man living out God’s Plan
In the book Volume one, the Chronicles of Emperor Guang Wu
In the 7th year AD 31, I see the inscription,
“The sins of all the people are now on one man.
Pardon is proclaimed to all under heaven.”
As he hung on the Cross there was an,
“Eclipse on the day of Gui HAi from Heaven died”
The terror of sin would be washed away
Because of this Man who died on the Cross
Three days later He rose from the Grave
This is also recorded in the History of the Latter Han Annals No 18
This information has been stored in the Chinese writings for decades
The earth is the Lord’s and everyone in it and
God the Father allowed them to record the events of Jesus
Long before the disciples wrote the four Gospels
The way back is the way forward
Birth to death to resurrection—
A man that will impact everyone
Rest in the Chinese pages
This fountain of discovery
Reveals the essence of this Man and
The Plan of the God who is Greater than All!
Matthew 2:2, Luke 23: 44
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Beef and black bean sauce with rice
Hungry big wide eyes
Struggle to use chop sticks well
Its just fun to try
Satisfyingly
I'm so full
Burp!
29th April 2011
Contest : Fast Food Epulaeryu
4th place win
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 outcomes.
The moon aglow this 15th day:
Valentine shows true lover's way.
Chap Goh Mei rhymes that Luna gaze:
Seek to court times in hearty maze.
Chinese New Year brings happy spring:
Here's to good cheer and precious things.
May all our dreams bring happy thoughts:
May love's fond streams bring healthy lots.
Live faith and hope as love seeds grace:
Work your grand scope with cheer you trace.
Leon Enriquez
11 February 2017
Singapore
(Note: 'Chap Goh Mei' means "15th Day" of
the lunar month in Hokkien, a Chinese dialect
with origins in Fujian province in China.)