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Best Poems Written by Joy Jeung

Below are the all-time best Joy Jeung poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Inside mint leaves

I am sitting in a black, hard plastic
Chair which has a leg and one more
And fire in its heart. And then the grass
Was screeching at the top of their lungs
For the witches spell had put the flame 
Out. Plums were hanging on the branches of
Old Sir Willow but they dropped and drooped.
Who? Let’s take a journey down the rabbit
Hole, no, the goblin and it’s neighbouring
Hobbit. We go down or north but yes, it is 
Going towards the smell of fading emerald
Crystals and Water and Teacups. One more
Tourist spot with a flag on it, which I’m really
Looking forward to - do you know the small
Spirits which sing in silent pitches and do you
Hear them hiding inside the mint leaves?

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

When Silence Speaks

Today, the doorbell of my mental hideout rang.
It rang with a sound like twinkling waterfalls without the moisture,
And tweeted like a soft pillow from my 5-year-old camping nest.
The scorching glare of darkness crawled up the stairs and seeped
Past the crackling summer which was too cold for me.
It was a chill that was like purple and green and blue.
I went to a hut to produce my own perfume,
Scented with exhaustion and misery.
There is not much else I can add, the shelves are bare as if 
A theif came in and out and never came back.
When silence finally speaks, it’s time I fall back into my chair,
A long forgotten place of rest. It’s not really that sweet,
Not really like the sugar leaves stored deep down in my 
Bluish drawer.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

How it is

On morning walk, there comes a moment of great impulse, 
Like one before a grand moment of seizure, or more frequently a
Sneeze.

It comes out like the boom of cannons in war movie, 
No, like fireworks at Japanese summer festival, no-

Like butterflies drizzling maple syrup on toasted leaf.

Like the final touch of paint brush on public artwork.

Like the clapping of two wood blocks on bar thirty six, 
Second movement of yesterday’s evening concert.

Yes, that’s how it is.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Dichotomy

My job is in the office,
My bread is in the kitchen,
Yet it haunts me as 
My life I am losing.

My dream tells me so -
The only way to vision her
Long brown hair.
Autumn, wood, cacao, seeds.

My clothes are in the closet,
My neighbours next door,
Still this plague wins
Called loneliness.

Ghosts in their chilly houses
Seem a relative now.
Not too special a day
Was Hallow’s eve.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Imagination

There is a gate in the midst of 
A small garden, maybe a red or 
White. 

I went over and met a dwarf who
Claimed its possession of the gate,

This is my gate and area, what are
You human in this sacred forest?

What mushroom! What leaf!
What another bird! 

Birds fly to the west and I am following,
Jogging turns into a short run and my feet 
Find themselves on some white thing.

Fluffy and wet, in truth! This is actually
A cloud. 

Crystals climb on to me, from their silky nests

And then I turn to walk north

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Whiteboard

A big whiteboard fills you, me and space.
We hover around with markers in our hands
And squeeze courage to make lines on the 
Plane. How heavy the marker is and how 
Dusty the eraser is. How large the board is
And how stationary I am, in that one corner.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Under the mountains

There is water under the mountains,
A stream hidden in the dark.
Misty or perhaps scorchingly dry
But there lives a stream.

There is a fossil under the mountains,
A long time ago, since when?
Hidden or sealed until eternity
But there lives someone’s ancestor.

There is gold under the mountains,
Too deep to find, too dark to explore.
Its value nobody to assess
But there lives a precious stone.

There is a community under the mountains,
Forgotten or never found.
Mysterious and veiled by our great
Trigonic stature, whose bed shifts
Not one bit, as they say.

But there is too much under the mountains,
Too mystical or too dull.
The hidden side is too poor to be left 
Under the mountains.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

I Am

Sometimes you need this thing called
Confidence, but it is hard to grasp
Like the slippery edge of the rice
Cracker packaging Summer ate
Yesterday. So to stand up in this
World and pour out enough courage
To hold a position next to everything
Else. 

Then pick flowers and clip them on to 
Your front pocket and make a grass hat
For yourself and receive a bouquet of
Tree roots to hold in your left hand. 

But first you should stand up. 
And then decorate yourself and look
Back at you.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

J S

Just joyfully jumping since six, singing somewhere sound since seven, sparkling still in seventeen.

Details | Joy Jeung Poem

Life

Little things turn big and now
Incredible memories spin round and round. 
Flying dreams are sometimes too quick to chase
Even though its me on the pilot’s seat.