"carps" poems
And gusts a wind that never sleeps
When at the pond arrives a breathless boy,
Knees kneel within the reeds and muck
To glimpse distorted carp beneath.
He counts his boundless hunter's luck
As shiftless as a seaweed wreath,
Then baits the wand that bears his angler's ploy,
And gusts discern he plays for keeps.
This boy roguish
As fish are coy.
And silent in the swaying deeps
The drifting dance of carps who dream and wish
Is ceased by ripples from a splash --
Refractions of the surface shake
As sinks an enigmatic flash:
Allure from realms beyond the lake.
The one that hungers proves the bravest fish,
And silent, at the lure he leaps.
Bravery
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
They , the grass carps
eat away the algae of my brooding from the pond of my feelings.
Like painters , they paint the blank canvases of my life with unforgettable sweet and beautiful moments by their delicate and innocuous jacose paint brushes.
Tickling me with loads of laughter by their innocuous hilarious acts is their shadow.
Folding the tender age of the two little beauties into my palms for ever is my fantasy and living with their childhood memories shall be my ice cubes on my burning wounds.
Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 6:47 AM UTC
The date
The train is left
It runs very fast
Who can stop?
I have an appointment
A date with who I loved
I wore the most
New and expensive one
Of my well-made suit
I had troubled
As I lost my tempered
When I remembered her shiny
Smile that was seen
Over her shiny
Lips
I could hardly tie my neck tie
Which I tied before in ease
My hands trembled in fast
What had happened to my tempers?
When I wore my shoes
I suddenly saw my socks
Beside on the carps
What a luck
I became very smart
I walk out in fast
The rain was downed
I still smiled
But a speedy car passed
It distributed the water
Everywhere like storm
I had bad storm
I was downed
I remembered one
Told if you want
To get high rank
You must be patient
And able to ascend the mount
I must be patient
As I remembered her face
Shining with elegance
I went back
I washed up
In fast as I could
I wore another one
The time spent
As the blink of the eye
I tried to stop a car
To transport me so far
The cars were busy
What a bad luck!
Finally I found one
I took it in fast
Argued the driver to run
To get the train before he had gone
The driver drove not fast
I argued him with weak sound
He told he couldn't
As the land filled with water
He hardly controlled the car
I looked to the heaven
The sky was filled with dark
What a bad luck
I prayed to my God?
You know I don't want harm
Please help me my lord!
Finally I was in
The watch moved
Clicked with high sound
I became in puzzle
Which sound was heard
The watch or my heart sound
I stayed on the chair
Beside the window
I wiped it to have a look
To green garden to compare
With her wide eyes
Which looks good
I opened my note
Looked at my watch
Asking my heart
"Why she didn't come?"
The time for the train came
To move up
The moving is like a death
Comes on time without late
Not be stopped even
By the walls
High and strong
Even the doors are closed
But it did know his road
I opened my note book
To look why she is not
Here up till that time
She didn't be late
I adjusted my time
On her time as she did
She looked like have an adjust clock
With her body as I thought
She walked up the ****
On the morning to wake up the sleeping
She walked the birds
To sing harmony songs
She went to her work
On adjust time without late
Why didn't she come?
Here is the time
I wrote and keep on my heart
I reminded it every moment
Here is the respond
Oh! Oh! What luck
I opened the small letter
That it might be sent
But I forgot for my happiness
Or speed, or my thoughts
Who could stop that?
Or could return the time?
To send that letter
To meet my lover
The time is passed
As the train passed
My love was lost
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 2:27 AM UTC
Win some,lose some
read the news some and then read more
what is it that we choose win or lose it's what we get
and I bet
that charity, though is about what is received don't be deceived
by gifts galore
the people giving want even more than an equal share
but that's not fair of me
I can see and but for lack of clarity I'd see it all
if I could only stand a little taller to look at details even smaller I'd be sure of what it is I'm trying to say
but that's not going to happen any time today or tomorrow
maybe I could borrow steps and step up a notch or two
see just who and what and where you are and the reasons why you're giving for.
I can't accept if I do not know
just where the giving's come from and where it is you think it's going to go.
You'll have to tell me and really slow I'm not as young as
not so much fun as
can't run as fast as years ago
so be slow and take your time for that is all I've got
and I won't be putting back the clock to please you
do what you do
what you've always done
you've got to have some fun
and win or lose
the news is just the same
just a pain
no win or gain it's
a prying,trying,lying game.
The headlines deadleg me
peg me out
and all my doubts are reinforced by forcible editorials and pictures which from a time what seems immemorial leer at me
from page three
I can see me going round the twist at everything they tell me that I've missed
I'm p*ssed off now
and p*ssing off to 'the brown cow'
to get p*ssed.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC
(after dean young)
*“there are some parts of the human brain
even carps spit out.”* but the amygdala births worms
which the fish chew quite sweetly. what isn’t
here: one un-slipped stream, one un-swissed
memory. what is: encephalitis, beetle-black shadow
in the water’s meat. some questions prompt answers
like mouths and feeding. ask yourself why fish bones
are like angels if it isn’t their getting stuck
or the filigree. ask yourself why the first words
of a poem are the skin of an unfathomable ocean,
or why you can only ever think about bodies
and feeding. in the throat, i forgot to say. i take
a layer of algae off the table before sitting down to tuna
and the soup in the coffin that is the kitchen sink.
ask yourself: if the water pressure’s been gone for weeks,
why is your hair always soaked in the morning?
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Nippon carp pool scene
media feeding frenzy
fake news: foul sushi
Great orange savior
magnanimous provider
feeds outside the box.
Eastern harmony
while fake news carps at Donald . . .
Media: go to hell.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:24 AM UTC
Good to see you healthy and about! How does the carp dream go?
If I were wealthy, I too would build a fish farm where Saudis and Donald Trump might go to
cast a line if I could but dream like A liar, too!
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
The moon has stirred, in darkness glints give way
To deer who doze in haze of purple mist.
It's time for sleep and all its wake to stray,
I slip within the deepest peace I've kissed.
I hope to see the day of night, a dream,
A nocturne played with roaring harps and keys.
I dance along the river Past, upstream
Are birds who sing among the carps and bees.
From scene to scene I learn and scream and gawk
At angels, floating in my lilac hue,
And then I wake, in heat of warmth or shock
To find the deer are awake in wonderment too.
I ask are dreams prophetic? Thoughts divine?
Or needless as a moon beneath his kine?
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 8:56 PM UTC