Somewhere in the wind
Rattling the song “Buzzy empty lane”
Hovering the small settlements
With so many loves and romances
The shady banyan tree
Exuding the cool shade
And the flower-laden milkwood
Infusing the night
With heavenly fragrance
passersby
Oh, passerby who would not care
Taking a look at the tropical almond
That is lightly fusing the air
With its long and yellow and so fragile flower
In a small, quiet corner
There is an young man
Arduously repairing the antique European clocks
Of which past glories and myths are reflected in each second hand
Oh, these little lanes
What are they secretly hiding?
In their deep paths
A Metaverse matrix
Yes, like a metaverse matrix
In an arctic, there lives a girl
The neighborhood sometimes wonders
Why has this pretty girl not settled down?
She must well be over forty
And time will not wait
Oh, that girl’s heart
Who knows
Has been committed to the luther
Everyday
Oh, everyday
She hangs her scallop paper life
On its notes of emptiness.
Categories:
milkwood, age, beautiful, care, creation,
Form: Free verse
The couch grass has withered
for winters change
I make no apology
Milkwood so loftily summoned
As I venture forth
A prompt remainder
into the celestial wilderness
Time is running out
The lunar moon indicates
Even the sky can be shrouded
through the thin line
Categories:
milkwood, age,
Form: Rhyme
The story of a Poet,
more tragic than his words
What then in fact his deeds conscript
—his writing leaves infirm
(Dreamsleep: March, 2021)
Categories:
milkwood, poets,
Form: Rhyme