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Cānghǎi lǎoguī mù cǎilóng,
Bìbō shēn chù yǐng chóng chóng.
Suìyuè diāozhuó jiānyìng ké,
Qíng sī wàn lǚ rào xīnfú.
Dōngfēng fú liǔ chūnyì nóng,
Lóngnǚ yānrán xiàoyǔ zhōng.
Yuàn dé bì dì liánhuā gòng.


The Dragon Maiden and the Sea Turtle
The ancient turtle yearns for the vibrant dragon,
In deep blue waves, shadows throng.
Years have carved a hardened shell,
Yet countless love threads his heart compel.
East wind brushes willows, spring's joy thrives,
The dragon maiden smiles, her laughter survives.
May we together share twin lotus lives.
I wrote this trying to emulate a traditional 7-character style poem reminiscent t of Li Qingzhao's Ci poetry –  I specifically thought of this, my relationship, and after re-reading her "The Jade Flute" poem –

I tried to post in Chinese calligraphy, however, HP doesn't like character-based languages except for Sanskrit.  I have found several posted that way, but none in the Asian languages except using Romanized characters.
The pen unfurling, a lifeline cast into the abyss,
words tumbling forth, raw and unfiltered,
a cathartic release, a soul laid bare.

Pain, a searing ember, ignites the page,
anguish, a tidal wave, threatening to drown,
confusion, a dense fog, obscuring the path ahead.

Betrayal, a venomous serpent, coils around the heart,
abuse, a suffocating weight, crushing the spirit.

But the ink flows, a river of sorrow,
washing away the grime, cleansing the wounds.

Love, a beacon of light, pierces the darkness,
friendship, a sturdy anchor, holding fast in the storm.

Joy, a fleeting butterfly, dances on the fingertips,
life, a vibrant tapestry, woven with threads of hope.

Dreams, iridescent bubbles, floating on the breeze,
guiding the way, beckoning towards the horizon.

Observations, like precious gems, scattered across the landscape,
nature's symphony, a harmonious chorus of life.

The cosmos, a vast ocean of stars, twinkling in the inky canvas,
a reminder of our place, a tiny speck in the grand design.

Balance, a delicate dance, between light and shadow,
yin and yang, the ebb and flow of existence.

This wondrous world, a kaleidoscope of colors,
a symphony of sounds, a tapestry of textures.

We, the poets, weavers of stories,
capturing the essence of life,
in every brushstroke, in every verse.

Let it flow, the emotions, the thoughts, the dreams,
unleash the torrent, let it wash over you.

For in the flow, there is healing,
in the flow, there is truth,
in the flow, there is life.
I wrote this today, with a fellow poetess in mind, but not just for her.  For all us poets.  To help those who may question themselves, what they write, why they write, if it's any good.

I doesn't matter, none of it.  IT is an outlet for your feelings, your observations, your thoughts, your dreams..... it's not for others to say you are good or bad... do it for yourself.  Take the criticism, embrace the good along with the bad and become stronger.
We poets, the bards of past, songwriters of new, weavers of stories, silver-tongued artists.....
Embrace the unknown, find your balance, and ___LET IT FLOW___
Behind our masks
Who no one knows
Is where our true selves go
Behind our masks
Is where our tears fall fast
Where the sun doesn’t shine
Behind our masks
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