SWB - Hello Poetry

SWB Jun 2012

Time drains its pockets staring at flies

Time drains its pockets staring at flies
wasting itself is the least of its fears
lost in the tangle of tired foreign sighs.

Not savvy enough for these ricochet replies;
conversation too tight for its loose blushing ears,
Time drains its pockets staring at flies.

Both ears 'given up, its left with two eyes
relieved at the sight of occasional CHEERS!
Lost in the tangle of tired foreign sighs.

This turn of events caught all three hands by surprise-
hasn't had this much trouble in all of its years-
Time drains its own pockets staring at flies.

While the winged black patrons sip on pools twice their size
the clock dwells on stale tabs, lost phones, and spilt beer
lost in the tangle of tired foreign sighs.

The minutes and seconds ******* help if they tried,
and each stroke makes things worse: the hours just jeer.
Time drains its own pockets staring at flies
lost in the tangle of tired foreign sighs.

A villanelle

SWB Jun 2012

To Wait

When minutes fall asleep and your ears ring,
both eyes grow numb and tire of what they see.
Your soul it screams but your phone fails to sing;
Endure these times and let all things just be.
Forsake your ev'ry impulse; you're not dead,
for harm precipitates when Rashness acts.
Trust you'll come around and keep your head,
save your wicked energy, relax.
Don't scan your memory in search of holes;
it's easy to reflect, re-run, repeat.
Don't wring your hands or pace with itching soles;
The nectar of true Patience drowns defeat.

Don't fool yourself; quick words may dull the sting,
To wait instead is such a precious thing.

Shakespearean sonnet

SWB Jun 2012

6:05 train to Sareung

I felt blessed riding the 6:05 train from Chuncheon to Sareung.
Maybe it was the ample, honest glow of the sun
still stretching behind the mossy mountains,
limbering up for the dawn's day ahead.

Maybe it's because I could hear-
sure as the train's faithful stop at each and every station-
God breathing celestial calm down into the valley,
stirring the leaves, but letting the people sleep.

Maybe it's because there sat leaning against me
a beautiful native friend, using me as a pillow-
one surely not as soft as the fluffy duvet
of fog which tenderly kept the river banks tucked-in.

Or maybe because each of her gentle stirs
reminded me of my place on earth right there, right then,
and kept me from being overwhlemed by it all,
kept me in my seat,
kept me from suddenly getting off at one of the vacant sacred stops
and attempting to be at one with the majestic.

SWB Apr 2012

SCUBA

Boy, SCUBA diving sure sounds fun-
to play in seascape soaked in sun.
I'm certified my classes done,
if only I could rent some lungs.

SWB Apr 2012

This alien

Deep breaths, shallow steps
far from the nest,
thoughts squeezed dry in the press.

Tired with rash,
I've stained my sash,
curbed here like sun-baked trash.

Longing for stars,
head dizzy from bars
This alien's homesick for Mars.

SWB Apr 2012

Guri Tower, is that you?

Guri Tower is that really you?
You're standing straighter, shoulders squared
with a new, flashy suit.
Let me wipe my eyes and take another peep,
readjust my trusty big browns,
and try to cut through this rainy blanket one more time.
It can't be. You look more like a billboard than a precipice-
but I can't deny your stature.
Surely you haven't moved without telling me.
I'll be ******, Guri Tower...
My, how you've modernized-
enough to make me clutch my mug of wine and whistle.

SWB Mar 2012

Maekju Mart (3/21/12)

Just a cigarette's walk from a waking day,
when rain stings the long strides of my plight
And the shadows burn with strange orange rays
At least we still have light.

When my head's turned around but my feet know the way
And my pants hang loose but my wallet's tight;
Dying to eat but too dead to pay
At least I still have the light.