Best Han Poems
I starts me life as pirate,
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.
With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.
Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.
Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.
Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.
Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.
One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.
Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight!
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!
© July 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen
If I was a boy, not yet a young man
I’d push some paper into your han’.
Lined and folded it would be,
moving words for you to see.
With thumb and fingers you’d hold it tight,
then angle and raise it to the light.
Clouded words, with love as one
All pushed out by a shining sun.
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me.
Still they wander, still in me.
Then I was older, yesterday’s young man
and distanced from your remembered han’
Should wooden doors with bronze mail slots
Have been the place to place my thoughts?
Those unwritten words lived in my head,
Never sent and never said.
Politely they sat for so many a day,
nothing to alter their quiet stay
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me
Still they wander, still in me
Now older still, tomorrow’s dead man
Rather than paper I’ll move my han’
To you it goes, open and worn
May yours mend my heart that’s torn
Was it ever meant to be?
Still they wander within me.
That note, those words, they wander in me
Still they wander, still in me.
I'll never know if it was meant to be
She left this life ahead of me
I still hold tight that imagined note
The one with words I never wrote
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Mark Toney
10/2017
Ah done cum frum tha ol' times
Whar we's jist roams free
I's gots a gun, a hoss un grub
'Un bedroll 'neath a tree.
Sum times ah jist works fer grub
An theys the tother times
Ah's jist watches tha stars 'bove
An sleeps un tha moons light.
Don't likes ridin' un tha rain
When lighten flies 'bouts
T'ain't safe ta be's board youse hoss
If'n youse tha tallest thin 'round.
Seed sum thin tother day
Done made me's feels so small
War a cowboy on 'is knees
An 'is hoss with head bowed low.
Tha cowboy held hat un han
Un front a wood cross
He war prayin ta tha Lord 'bove
Fer all tha pards we's loss.
Theys air up thar, that I's knows
Bacause las night I's seed
Ma frien Charlie ridin herd
Next ta ma pa, Reed.
One days I's 'll be up thar
An sum one down balow
Will looks an watches tha stars shine
Un sleeps 'neath tha moons glow.
Cile Beer
J-ust
E-mploy
A-wesome
N-ame
S-imply
E-xpressing
N-ew
H-appy
A-crostic
N-ote
Topic: Birthday of Jean Sen Han (August 11)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Tus pequeños pies castaños
Gateando, ágiles
Pegados en las rocas
Como las patitas de una salamandra
No se aquietan
Hasta que encuentran el alto
E reposan curvándose sobre la piedra
Mientras desde allí me apuntas
Cosas que ilustran los relatos
De la vida de tu hogar
Satisfecho de que lo que me dices
Es prontamente demostrado
Sin demora quedan abajo
Impacientes
Y caminan a mí lado
Esos pies cobrizos
Cavando la arena
Formando huellas poco profundas
Saltando ligeros
Como sólo pueden
Los pies de un niño
Por entre las piedras
“Baryshnikov” dices de mofa
Reimos
Y tus pies ya se van adelante
Como señores de tu voluntad
Hasta que te vayas entero de mi
Miro las marcas dejadas
Tan poco han andado a mi lado
Estos chicos pies desnudos
Pero que gran distancia
Percorrieron en mi corazón.
Camino en sociedad de ignorancia,
Donde palacios son corruptos por efectos de arrogancia;
Pasan por nuestros lados,
Echando el ojo, tratando de disimular;
Donde la conciencia es absentista,
Donde todos dicen ser abstencionistas,
Pero, todos son ambiciosos, consumidos y absorbidos por hipocresía...
Camino en sociedad abolicionista,
Donde abolicionan toda aventura,
Donde la única aventura es abolir la sociedad,
Siendo una sociedad abstraída y egoísta,
Poniendo todo lindo, pero con abusividad escondida,
Siendo una sociedad de imbéciles accionistas,
Mostrando intransigencia acérrima y decisiva,
Pero, todos son perezosos basados en negligencia anarquista...
Camino en sociedad de advertencia,
Donde los reprimidos quedan agrisados,
Donde los rechazados y solitarios quieren valentía,
Donde la paz social va desvaneciendo,
Donde la minoría quiere acracia y amnistía de la sociedad,
Para derrocar la corona trastornada y distorcionada...
Camino en sociedad amorfa,
Donde nos han forzado ansias a través de propaganda alarmista,
Donde existen muchos agiotistas fraudulentos,
Donde propias convicciones son raramente afianzadas y aseguradas,
Donde la autoridad permanece en mordacidad y acrimonia,
Donde los realistas son fastidiados y ajusticiados,
Donde las miradas autoritarias son falsamente alegatorias,
Donde muchos permanecen injustamente en incertidumbre ambigua...
Solo a través de sabios ojos,
Es que existen verdaderas experiencias;
Con mirada fiera,
Con mirada de ira,
Con mirada desamparada,
Con mirada sigilosa,
Con mirada misteriosa;
Con toda mirada real existe vida lúcida y estragos mortíferos...
Camino en sociedad de odio,
Donde toda mirada se vuelve rencorosa,
Camino en sociedad de miradas,
Donde las paredes escuchan y hablan,
Donde las divisiones son provocadas,
Apuñalando nuestras espaldas;
Piensan que es un simple juego de carcajadas,
Pero, todos son hipócritas a través de siniestras miradas,
Que me tratan de dejar en agrafia,
Con el juego de las miradas...
Las mujeres que cruzan el rio cada dia
forman una linea larga para la migra.
Muestran sus permisos -- tarjetas locales --
y vacian los contenidos de sus bolsas.
Cuando las preguntan sus destinos,
contestan con las frases que han ensayado:
quiero comprar pollo en especial,
o desea mi hijo zapatos tenis de Wal-Mart --
mientras sus patronas del dia acechan,
a prudente distancia, en sus camionetas guayin,
con los motores en marcha,
fumando impacientemente.
Otro Winston?
(For translation, see "About This Poem")
Its creation’s simplicity still stands as a difficult puzzle
head is twisted backwards while in a forward motion
still looking behind at the chronicles of some centuries ago
long before the infiltration of Christian missionaries and Arab traders
is the exact factor making its existence seemingly complex.
Foreign politics and faiths both adopted,
have tied it with the ropes of inferiority
systematically indoctrinated to condemn
its history, personality and civilization,
while grabbing other languages and cultures so dearly
to the point of blindly pushed into Anarchy.
The modern world is on a high speed,
excuses of the west’s exploitations to build their civilizations
are noisy complaints and already cliched.
Small islands with no natural resources as Singapore;
the awe of the miracle of the Han River portrayed by south Korea
and the magical performance of India in information technology
are evidences of old colonies
beating their colonizers in some phases of development.
From Abuja to Addis Ababa, Khartounm to Kigali,
no Caucasian is seen, staying in charge of its state houses
but to give reasons to its mediocrity and indifference,
conspiracy theories and neo-imperialism twaddle are coined.
All these, just complications of a chronic low self esteem
but unfortunately manifesting at a time it should be confident
in the chaotic universe
of western imperialism, Christian materialism and Arab expansionism.
The days moved slowly, but did pass.
He had spent the last three dreaming
of his mentor Wakan Tanka.
Calling him from Han in darkness,
waiting for his sign of answer.
It had come in bits and pieces
of Ojibwa legend mainly.
Thirty days purification
Of mind, body, spiritual.
Bathed in ginger, pomegranate.
In the round house incense offered,
Calls shadow land of Lakota.
Nagila, Nagila come be my bride.
The hawk and fox are beside me.
I have fasted forty summers,
visited the spirit of death.
Niya, the spirit of life’s blood
has lifted me up to the stars.
She has cleansed with healing waters.
Now let me take the talisman.
Now let me repeat the promise.
Now let me take my rightful place
among my people as Shaman.
Apr 16 2011 CGH the Ojibwa of the
north western plains
Wakan Tanka- creator of the Sioux
Han-place of great emptiness, darkness
Nagila-shadow land
Niya-breath of life
ginger and pomegranate-not factual
Star Wars Rebellion:
A galactic game of Risk—
Empire/Alliance.
Alliance Leaders:
Luke Skywalker, Han Solo,
Leia, Mon Mothma.
Young Luke Skywalker
Has to confront Darth Vader,
Becomes Jedi Knight.
Han Solo pilots
The Millenium Falcon
With friend Chewbaca.
Leia Organa:
Very strong diplomat,
Potential Jedi.
President Mothma:
The rebellion’s heart and soul,
Great at recruiting.
Rebel advantage:
They are able to move their
Secret Headquarters.
Imperial Leaders:
The Emperor Palpatine,
Dark Lord Darth Vader.
Evil Palpatine,
A.K.A. Darth Sidius,
Dark Lord of the Sith.
Apprentice Vader
Was Annakin skywalker,
Seduced by dark side.
Control production,
Build mines and refineries,
Fight for resources.
The construction yards
Are used to build everything.
Must be defended!
To create armies,
Need training facilities.
Must be defended!
To build more starships,
Build or capture space stations.
Must be defended!
Special characters:
Assassins, Spies, Commandos,
And Infiltrators.
Planet resources
Gained by colonization,
Diplomacy, conquest.
To gain VICTORY:
Capture/destroy headquarters,
Capture the leaders.
Idealogies?
What’s the real goal of all wars?
Control resources!
Oh, Sol y Luna que tratan de abrazarse,
No llegan a tocarse como La Creación por Miguel Angel,
Por tantos obstáculos obstruyéndoles de si mismos,
Por tantas barreras que atrasan el alcance entre ellos,
Por tantas cadenas que los separan el uno del otro...
Oh, Sol que tanto extrañas el toque helado de la Luna,
Que tanto sufresen despertar el resplandor de su interior,
Que tantas manchas y quemaduras te han hecho doler,
Que tanta irradiación expones, a veces cegándote a ti mismo...
Oh, Luna que tanto añoras el calor del Sol,
Que tanto sufres en suavizarle su ardor,
Que tantos cráteres te han hecho sufrir,
Que tanto escondes tu resplandeciente brillantez interna...
Oh, Sol que tanto sufres en fuego eterno,
Pobre de ti, separado de tu amante,
Te dejaron solo en a luz cadente,
Luz que te quema y te hace erupcionar...
Oh, Luna que tan fría estas en oscuridad abundante,
Pobre eres, separada de tu querido,
Solitaria y desamparada con tus amistades, las estrellas,
Dejando caer tu opaca luz de plata,
En tu océano de lágrimas y tierra de injusticias...
Dos amantes desolados,
Dos romances reprimidos,
Ambos corriendo uno tras el otro,
Solo mirándose a distancia,
Sin alcanzarse hasta la llegada del abrazo..
Injeck evey POD a dad pluckin' bird
Wid a quote a chow-chow seasonne
Led id sid in dem fridge
(Fo tree whole day, sha!)
You god dad fry-pot on da poach?
FAAR id up an po in dad stuff
Heed dis ere PEA-nut orle bout tree fitty
(Taak almos a dhaam hour!)
Led dad big-boy fraa til it GOL-brown
(Don WOORY, it gid all da way done!)
Oooh-wee! Dem smell ghoood!
Whad you gon use a KNIFE fo?
Id fall rhaad apard in dem finger...
(Khepp yo fithy HAN off mha tuckey!!)
***If you've never had fried turkey, you don't know what you're missing...
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
In the sloping corners of humankind hangs the skeleton.
Ghosts are not hidden and flowers are exhausted,
Although some folds shelter beauty and
the old man can smile for some seconds
while he scratches the sky looking for
a ball that may glitter inside all.
The players cannot find the secret of the elegy,
While history dress only with one color
It is not the hour for a pilgrim. Many are left
On the side of the road with the lack of revelations.
One must remain faithful to litanies
To the holy reverence to the fatigue society.
Humans are around a corner
It does no matter if a barrel of tar is thrown in their full face.
Mouth and tongue pronounce the morning
Edition of obsessions, although the thickness of
the age and the readiness the long roll deeply sunk
no months to build effigies
I swear, I would die for you, but I have
no austerity for breath. I dream cities without clocks,
they hurt me, then I would add up stone by stone of kindness,
worry about questions, good questions,
and dream cities full of flavors and faces I can touch.
My apologies. It is late.Where there is a city
there is no city.
The day emerges
flustered winds
a pull, a tug
still un-known
like wings on a dove
is your love....
Creased brow, confusion grows
tears explode, tears gone
children cry
unable to voice, the query ....
The spice of a man, teases her nostrils
a touch, barely there among the stars
her golden tresses pushed aside
dark heat blooms in her belly
A lovers kiss, is just a kiss
that's a whisper of a breath
of days gone by...
Un beso es sólo un beso
el día emerge
azorados los vientos
un empuje, un remolcador
todavía conocido
como las alas de una paloma
es tu amor...
Entrecejo arrugado, la confusión crece
lágrimas estallan,
niños que lloran lágrimas han
podido expresar, la consulta...
La sal de un hombre, su nariz molesta
un poco, apenas entre las estrellas
doradas cabelleras su lado
oscuro flores calor en su vientre
un beso los amantes, es sólo un beso
que es un susurro de un soplo de
antaño...
Brooke Dylan 2014