Long Dynasties Poems
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Beyond the lines of your poems—
the ones you once wrote,
the summers you spread across the page, blazing with noon sunlight;
the Saigon alleyways you walked, canopied with flame-red blossoms;
the tender first love that chilled every rainy afternoon;
the startled wings of birds flying against the wind;
the fragrance you pressed into words, learning to draw charms like the ancients.
.
Beyond the lines of your poems—
the ones you once wrote,
the paths you walked between letters of dream and truth;
your footsteps carrying the whisper of Nha Trang’s restless waves;
the nights behind the curtain where you met Princess My Nuong laughing in the rain;
the verses still echoing four thousand years of legends;
the deep sadness, the pipa’s tremor of the Dragon King remembering Au Co.
Beyond the lines of your poems—
the ones you once wrote,
the days you stood in parched fields reading verses to summon rain;
the days you copied children’s rhymes across endless new pages;
the ink still heavy with sorrow from a season-strayed wind;
the l?c bát spells you wrote to invite the apricot blossoms to bloom;
and I still stand beside the stone horses of the Ly and Tran dynasties,
my legs weary from an ancient race.
Beyond the lines of your poems—
is Minh the sun,
is minh the day,
so that ink and paper shimmer between dream and real?
Beyond the lines of your poems—
is Minh the moon,
is minh the crescent light,
so a half-moon glows forever in your poetry?
Beyond the lines of your poems,
beyond the lines of your poems.
--- Phan Tan Hai. Dedicated to poet Nguyen Thi Khanh Minh
She was a princess
destined to become queen
but the desert sands whispered a different destiny.
In the prophecy of more ancient times
her story was well known, told and told again
and her fame was anticipated, long awaited.
She rose from a discrete family
whose members slipped away unexpectedly
lost to the tumult revolutions of power.
Buried her story never was recorded
and erased from the flow of dynasties
as was her sarcophagus carved with images upon its cover.
A warning in the time of man
that woman was property
and was only mother, sister to a king.
Times change,
beliefs are remolded
and the woman, a princess, a queen - rises.
Long before Babylonians, Assyrians, Persians and Greeks,
Before Hammurabi, Sargon and Ramses ruled
The world below their feet;
Before biblical scenes and mythological dreams
Of magical carpet rides,
I knew you back then
Where sea breezes begin
And history was a gleam in your eye...
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain,
They called you Ricotis as I recall
Earth Mother once called you by name.
Nestled on the Mediterranean Sea of monsters,
Pirates and explorers renowned,
You were not much more than desert floor
Until the conqueror came to town.
Alexander, Alexander, God-man, ruler-thought divine,
Sailed by your winds where the world begins
And knowledge was born and thrived.
In the halls of those palaces and places
He built from his own vision quest,
To rule a world of enlightened beings
Where all people could achieve their best.
Though he never quite saw your white marble walls,
With pillars of gold and blue;
Of the Serapeum filled with scholarly souls
Recording their own world view.
He never knew Pythagoras, philosopher, scientist extraordinaire;
Or the historians Philo and Josephus
And the volumes of memories they shared.
The early Christians, Church Fathers and Saints
Origen, Clement and Mark;
Alexander never knew what he finally did
When he gave you that worldly start.
You’ve seen the Pharos come and go,
Dynasties crumble and fall;
Romans and Greeks swept right off their feet
And Cleopatra’s castle walls.
Pagans, Jews and Christians too
All vying for your love;
As whispering winds of Freemason friends
Tell of Hermes below and above.
While Islam and Mohammed rule
In the shadow of the Sphinx,
Pyramids and temples filled with hieroglyphs
And obelisks that make you
Stop and think…
Alexandria, Alexandria, city of pleasure and pain;
So little I’ve spoken about you today
Compared to all I’ve gained.
Since the first day I once met you
In that dream so way back when…
Alexandria, Alexandria, so glad we’re still
Good friends.
—Gods Too Err—
I
He limn’d her soul in clay, yet tinctur’d white,
as though a swan had stray’d from supernal seas;
then loosed her through the thorn-entangled night,
where mortal hands knew naught of such decrees.
She’d move through rain, whilst moonmilk veiled the mere,
and leave reeds aquiver in her wake;
a vestal lumen kept the darkness clear,
nor earth’s mordant cruelties could break.
She knew not guile, nor that venefic art
whereby the loveless counterfeit the true;
yet earth put iron fingers round her heart,
and taught her tenderness what wounds could do.
Then God beheld—and, fathomless, grew grave:
He’d made a swan no mortal world could save.
II
He saw how solitude had entered bone,
how grace grew wary underneath the skin;
how she could warm a stranger, yet alone,
would fold her argent wings and turn within.
Then past seraphic choirs His vision strayed,
beyond the azurine empyrean rim,
where unborn worlds in starless silence stayed—
He sought a soul whose depths could answer Him.
Through aeons, waning suns withdrew from sight,
whilst starry dynasties forgot their name;
yet still He wrought through the measureless night,
for none could bear the burden of her flame.
Her equal hath not yet drawn mortal air;
God still doth fashion him through endless prayer.
Serene silence, its salient feature
The sapped bodies snug in solitude.
Not a mound of sand and cement.
A structure to showcase our reverence and regard and
Keep them alive through our thoughts, words and deeds.
Do the enshrouded bodies realize how nicely they are carved?
Definitely,not.
Souls satiate when tributes are paid.
Tombs reflect cultures and civilizations.
Tombs disclose unknown facts of royal dynasties.
Some stand as tokens of perpetual love like Tajmahal.
Some are adored,
As they have engulfed the thinkers, torchbearers and preceptors.
It's the end as well as onset of a new life.
Whoever and whatever it is!
Paying tribute to an abandoned soul is the sole cosmic order.
Place: 4
Walking through this southern gate
You’ll be travelling back in time
Where Emperor’s once ruled this place
You’ve crossed the meridian line
Welcome to the Forbidden City
Full of heavenly rooms
From Ming Dynasty to Qing
Now a beautiful palace museum
A million people built this place
Craftsmen came from every state
Built this palace with artistic design
This complex will surely make you smile
So much skill in architecture
Full of wisdom and ancient treasure
Beautiful murals on the walls
With hidden dragons in secret halls
The floor was laid with golden bricks
Religious symbols placed in it
Reflecting lots of philosophical things
Studied throughout their Dynasties
Surrounded by a deep wide moat
This City almost seems to float
The Imperial palace of Beijing
Built with such intricacy
It’s the largest palace in the world
Chinese culture with history as well
A national treasure of antiquity
This wooden structure stands magnificently
With endless halls and endless turns
Now the splendour of this palace serves
A Dragon’s throne in golden colours
This wonderful palace is like no other
It’s a City within a City
Divided by north and south
With inner and outer courts
Where 24 Emperors were crowned
Walk around the imperial gardens
They are so exquisite to see
Imagine the Empress and her children
Talking simple philosophy
And the legend of those four towers
Was a timeless masterpiece
The story of an old carpenter
Saw the builders on their knees
Won’t you buy a grasshopper?
From my stunning cage
Builders looked in astonishment
Never forget the wisdom of that sage
You’ll need permission if you want to leave
The Emperor rules with supremacy
In the heavenly hall of purity
Don’t forget to bow and courtesy
The Emperor and Empress already know your needs
Just be wise and speak carefully
Using good manners always please
And be prepared to get down on your knees
A World Heritage Site
© Copyright KC. Leake
21st October 2017
All Rights Reserved
Holy habits expansion of desires,
commercial attributes by mental wires.
Manipulated senses to be passive,
ghosts of egos worship becoming flaccid.
The tongue of flame speaking the truth,
defending the wind of dejected blues.
Domains in denied mysteries,
lost by democratic dynasties.
The secrets and its depth,
attachments with every breath.
Purpose stolen fulfillment,
expressions in theatrical figment.
Humiliated conscience dims,
the radiance of countenance whims.
Realized deeds upon one self effect,
emerges new outlook opens true respect.
The seekers truth is not another,
individual fuel for virtue’s fire.
Subtlety is the art of intelligence,
echoes of own natures reference.
The mental prison as the enemy,
raised or cast spirits by action agree.
Every soul has its own way to be,
or one must borrow others eyes to see.
Only refined manner with sincerity,
create a living art of dignity.
There are teams
There are great teams
Then, there are dynasties
In the world of women's sports
There have been few that measure up
To the 2019 USA Women's World Cup Soccer Team
Every one of these 23 talented women
Has been groomed for this purpose their whole lives
Playing, working, training, focusing, listening, watching, and concentrating
On ONE thing ... The World Cup Trophy
The pressure, rarely equaled, has been applied
The stories, countless and controversial, have been written
The stats, meaningful and managed, have been studied
The criticism, fair and false, has been aimed
The opponents, powerful and prideful, have been prepared
And the games, intense, exciting, and incredible, have finally been played
Now ONE team - one amazing team - stands alone atop the rest
Holding that storied golden trophy high ... high and noble and proud
Forty-six valiant hands that have set a new standard for sports
Not just women's sports, but ALL sports
A new standard for what it means to work and play as a TEAM
A new standard for excellence and class and athleticism
Congratulations and blessings to the USA
And the 2019 Women's World Cup Championship Soccer Team
A team for the ages ... a team for the people ...
And a dynasty, tried and true!
Written and submitted on July 7, 2019
For the "2019 FIFA Women's World Cup" Poetry Contest
Mark Toney, Sponsor.
In the bitter museum the past is on parade
in postures of reproach. Vast corridors
display a thousand ways of being ashamed
and illustrate the progress of despair.
Behind their glass, the mannequins of once
exhibit all the wealth of worlds now gone,
and frozen in their accusatory dance
the avatars of loss are labelled Done.
In the bitter museum extinguished dynasties
of hope set forth their monuments, inscribed
in that dead language, laughter. Vanished breeds
of joy are shown, regretfully alive.
The relics seem so real they almost leer.
In the bitter museum the dust is streaked with tears.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dynasties of greed and its economic policies,
political discourse and its perpetual odysseys.
Deficits through poor implementation,
voted promises and false trust revocation.
Borrowed capital and meeting their existing obligation,
taxes, high prices and corrupted penetration.
Violence done to keep the system to maintain,
multiplicity of ignorant ignorance polished vain.
Hidden figures with plausible deniability,
equal copious applied without responsibility.
Tightened belts and overdraft bestowed liberation,
practicing austerities in den prison damnation.
The ark of ignorance and its leaking admiration,
and the patriotic beasts lives by infatuation.
Government jobs that save the heart by devotion,
corrupted honor and its commotion.
The real austerity of integrity,
takes the spirit into liberating eternity.