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Xianda Wen Poem
A field of fire where hails of bullets streak,
Across the holy lands of God and men.
Exalted knights with weapons breathing rage,
The hearts and hopes of every heathen rend.
When glint of steel and clouds of dust give way,
Such glorious scenes of blessed pain remained.
I gaze upon the blasted ruin of God,
The gates of heaven; by holy blood be stained!
I sing the praises in an empty hall;
Sepulchral shadows flit in paradise.
I find myself alone in gilded pall,
Surrounded by the spectres of the dead.
Copyright © Xianda Wen | Year Posted 2016
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Xianda Wen Poem
Life blooms from a flower
Like a book flipping open
Spilling sunflowers and roses
On memories in deep oceans.
Fires rage and blood red burns
Endless fields and inchoate urns
Unformed babes and solid tears
Time runs deep with timeless gears.
Death sprouts from a seed
Like a fountain sputtering
Spraying ink and deep grey clouds
On love behind the pendulum.
Copyright © Xianda Wen | Year Posted 2016
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Xianda Wen Poem
Clouds
carrying crew
of
little
raindrop
men
Are they
going
somewhere too?
Copyright © Xianda Wen | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Xianda Wen Poem
In a group of more than two, I
Move slowly behind, not by choice.
Heartfelt conversations one day, the next,
Empty chatlogs.
Rather like I'm invisible,
Except
Copyright © Xianda Wen | Year Posted 2016
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