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Sun Hwang Poem
Midnight, faced again,
after failing once more to let yesterday go,
feels familiar—
like a night’s shadow resting,
its hands heavy with darkness.
Stung by the hard glare of a streetlight,
my shadow—myself—stretches out
and deliberately rummages through
bitter memories
blooming like pale gourd flowers.
The long night should leave
only after shaking loose its faded past,
yet my shadow keeps searching,
not ready
to let it pass.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2026
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Sun Hwang Poem
Regrets strung across the rope of half a lifetime—
I hang upon it the rising ache of lingering sorrow.
The courage to gently cure an unready death
burns brighter than a freshly opened peony.
A quiet wind, bearing seasoned migratory birds,
waves farewell to sixty distant peaks.
It offers a cup brimming with the time to come,
and with a steady gaze, says: now, walk your own way.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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Sun Hwang Poem
In the swollen wait,
sprouting in the late summer dawn,
naive longing meets,
unaware of the pride of scorching heat,
in the sleeping embrace
of the confluence of two rivers.
Facing the sharp heat,
like the tip of a rapidly growing bamboo shoot,
the hungry wind howls,
sharp as a mother wolf's call,
bringing forth the clouds that gather
to drive away the oppressive warmth.
An accidental meeting,
caught in the mischief of midsummer,
unable to exchange even a fleeting glance,
unraveling like an old straw sandal
in the dream of the aged river.
The solitary eagle sharpens its beak with a sigh,
unceasingly drawing in the scent of its lost mate,
as it fiercely pecks
at the arrogance of the searing heat.
The raven-black wait
and the vivid blue longing
open their embrace,
climbing onto the crest of the confluence,
they gaze at one another,
finally becoming a tingling wave,
reaching toward each other.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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Sun Hwang Poem
In the blue edged blade
of winters harsh constraint
on a chair made more severe
by the pale thinned wind alone
it is unclear
whether the bird left first
or the man
Footprints carved like scars
bruise the snow so vividly
that ripples rise
in the watching eyes
Eyes cut by the knife edged wind
linger over the prints pressed in the ground
hesitating
whether to let them fade
At the rim of longing
that will not fall away
there is the wish
for a wildfire gust
to fling them clear
Instead the wind casts its red cord
and binds me
Thinned by winters sullen cold
the chair yearns
for the rusted chatter
of those who once sat there
in warmer seasons
A leaf held to its branch
loosens and lets itself fall
settling upon the remaining prints
a dry cover laid gently
across what still trembles within
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2026
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Sun Hwang Poem
A shattered window
lets the wind stand on edge in its cracks,
yet marriage is not a knot
meant to seize those gaps.
Like a standing trunk, skinned alive by time,
dried to death yet quietly immense,
marriage is not a field of potatoes
but the cultivation of thorns.
Love—
two strands drunk on their own liquor,
sometimes slipping into one,
scanning the other inch by inch,
now and then holding a flesh-heavy smile.
Leechlike disappointments and angers
are cut to measure by endurance,
and like the dung beetle,
unyielding,
we can roll one another on.
The grain of union
is woven not as a lighthouse,
but as a reef.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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Sun Hwang Poem
Like a breeze drunkenly dancing through the daylight,
A day befriended by a quiet drink before evening,
Wishes to play with me, caught in the arms of noon.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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Sun Hwang Poem
Humans are said to be social beasts,
A concept blended in Greece.
It seeps into the crumpled eyes,
Flowing down heavily through the body.
A solo artist, scattering unique wildness,
Is like a gentle breeze.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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Sun Hwang Poem
Soft as a marsh, the wave—
its homeland drifting far into the open sea,
should be heading for the shoulder of the horizon
the stars will soon erase.
Yet, drawn to the polishing
of an aura like yours, dusted with grains of sand,
it turns its back on the wind drunk with sunset
and rushes toward the shore.
Like the long scream of a half-moon
that the morning glow will sweep away,
the sun, swollen by evening light, cries out
that this is not the way.
The wave shuts out even the clouds
that once headed with it toward the old tree of home,
and cages the sun—now gaunt with worry—
on an island where its scolding can be put to sleep.
Jealous of the gulls beating their wings
on your shadow,
it rears itself like an enraged train
and rams toward the shore.
Whether it knows or not the weight
of its one-way devotion,
you mingle with other shadows,
building sandcastles.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2026
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Sun Hwang Poem
As at the opening of a hidden bistro,
the moment before stepping onto a narrow side path, cliff-shaped—
waking the color-warmed buttons
of clothes that slept, cradled on a hanger,
standing before a mirror that flows toward you,
the tremor of seeing myself in your eyes.
The first path simmers a cloud-loosened sea into a latte,
flowing toward the distant beloved…
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2026
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Sun Hwang Poem
The folds of arrogance loosen and spill,
Though draped upon the shade of restraint.
?
Relentless flare of crimson defiance,
Met with the cool stubbornness of blue.
?
Tomorrow tangles like wild vines,
Today wields a blade of bitter resolve.
Copyright © Sun Hwang | Year Posted 2025
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