In the Name of Tao

 In The Name of Tao

12.18.2020.wenwenlin

who gives the sky permission to crumble?

who makes the levees break open?

who plants the intention

for an ocean to swallow the concrete jungle

inside our gradually congealed mind?

but this might be the best solution

for a burning city inside our head--

like the rose needs its thorns

in the name of Tao.

Haiku 5

 haiku 5:

12.11.2020.wenwenlin.

We arrive naked, depart naked

Who fills in the nothingness in the middle?

Life is a dream without dreamers.

haiku 6:

 haiku 6: 

the wild geese stitching the sky

in gliding motion of infinite 8--

tails bites the beginning

looping you back home

haiku 4:

haiku 4: 

12.04.2020.wenwenlin.

our encounter--

trees shrouded in mountain clouds

nurtured by each other's vapor

KuHai: 1 (a free verse 3 lines poem)

 KuHai: 1 (a free verse 3 lines poem)

(11.27.2020.wenwenlin)

sound of wind chimes

passing through the long corridor---

did you hear the flowers giggle?

(note: KuHai is a word my poetic friends Judy and Andre made up: 

simply a free verse 3 lines poem. vs. Haiku 5-7-5 strict rhythm)

Haiku 3

 Haiku 3

11.25.2020.wenwenlin

mosquitos singing

pink lotus moors on moonlight

abstract twig painting

Book of Life

Book of Life

11.20.2020 wenwenlin

when lovers

passing each others

on the street after some long years

while with another in their arms--

there is no greater silence

between the folds of the old waves

and the new, in the ocean of the pages...

each professes in the art

of entering and departing,

chapters that are chronologically misplaced

and paragraphs that have been written, erased

and re-written and re-erased,

pages flipped, skipped, stuck together

with content still unknown

sentences half read

words with syllables mis-pronounced--

and the book of life

has already been rushed

to be published.

Haiku 2

 Haiku 2

looking back at the face

that speaks through the silent mirror

still not ready for repentance.

Haiku 1

 haiku 1

11.13.2020.wenwenlin

the wanderer dips her feet

in the ever changing river flow

the thespian without fixed roles

Inventory

 Inventory

(11.06.2020.wenwenlin)

i have:

52 teeth, 206 bones, 5 million hair,

86 billion neurons, 7 trillion nerves

and 16 personalities--

like an artful rabbit would

dig multiple holes

for earth's long winter, and

for human's hearts of labyrinth

Enchantment

 Enchantment (11.06.2020.wenwenlin)

you don't have to be fire

to burn every fence in your way,

you don't have to be the ocean

to calm all storms back to water,

you don't have to be blue ice

to be so profoundly beautiful,

pressurized from been originally snow,

and got all your oxygen

painfully squeezed out--

you just need to

keep your soft heart perennially wild

and your dampened soul perpetually drunk

from the enchantment

of everyday mundane moments.

By Pass

 By Pass 

today is the day

when time and space  

collapse into a singularity

 

lying on the surgeon's table

etherized

getting ready for open heart surgery

 

"poetry is the shortest distance to God"

the surgeon said, while installing

a wormhole in my artery

that directly connects to the bypass

"write, cry or just being--

 

set free random thoughts that are

in search of a monkey mind

set free all the wildest birds in flight

which were hanging on the tail of a storm

stubbornly refusing to come in out of the rain"

 

"and may you catch the flu" the surgeon says,

"of eternal infection of glee and jubilation."

I have a new heart.

I Am My Own Mother, My Daughter and My Self

the entire universe is in me,

where would i go?

inward, outward, backward, forward....
i am in a perpetual swirling dervish dance.

paupers & vagabonds, kings & queens,
i have lived all ecstasy, in a dream

that lasted merely millisecond,
and i landed still on my own palm,

my fingers were petals on a lotus flower,
that was dreamed of by a whisper

a whisper that was revealed in THE POEM--
i am my own mother, my daughter and my Self.

05.29.2010wenwenlin

Murmur of the Pearl Beads

murmur of the pearl beads

murmur of the pearl beads

it’s a toad, it's a prince

It’s the thin ice,

it’s the high, the low

and the treading in between

it’s the island in the desert

and the jumping on the last car

before the train leaves the station

it’s the yes, it’s the no

it’s the eyes of a blind man

a promise to life?

it's the cocacola bottle,

falling from the sky,

a divine wonder--

or a divine joke?

it is the desert bushman, barefooted

walking to the edge of the world

to search for the sea within himself

it’s the petit apres-midi ennui

the waking up between airplane lags,

it’s the changing of hotel rooms

it’s a string of pearl beads

murmuring on the neck ……..

it’s the dream, the little betrayal

of the pillow and the sheet;

and the shedding of you and me

it’s a trap, a place to rest

it’s the stubborn shadow

it’s the rope or the snakes

it’s the kiss of a vampire prince

it’s the murmur, it’s the promise

it's the bite of the apple

from the talking trees......

a prince? a snake?

behold the rope!

the murmur, the joke

the icing on the shadow,

the little annoyance

the stones with no tears

a dream of no toads

a new open road…….

Insomnia

Life in the Time of Covid-19. 03.27.2020

    This poem is chosen to be in the anthology: Poems from the Lockdown. (p.39) Published by 
    Amazon Books

    https://www.amazon.com/Poems-Lockdown-Trevor-Maynard/dp/B0875YYF7X/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Poems+from+The+Lockdown&qid=1588122111&sr=8-1

My Name is Enceladus, 04.24.2020

Crimson Magic Mountain, 04.10.2020

Puhpowee, Puhpowee, Puhpowee. 04.24.2020

Parachute 02.14.2020 Valentine poem