"mugunghwa" poems
If I were pure Aphrodite
sowing seeds in mountains,
on rivers, alongside Athena’s bath.
If only I could move underneath
Hephaestus rather than within
him. But when he hammers, I hammer,
When he cries, it rains. Maybe we
don’t belong together, not because
there are big wide spaces but
because I'm meant to comb the earth
with dew-filled seeds. I just want to wait
and watch this rose of sharon grow,
hold it in my hand and count the
petals, then count again as though
the number 5 can change and move.
I want it to be mine, no-- I want to want
it to be mine, for when love carves
into horse shoes, I only stay a season.
We plant our seeds, we watch, we leave,
She carries on. I mourn.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
I've forgotten,
How long it has been, since, I left my home,
A long time ago,
I've thought for a long time,
How I miss;
“The “clear song” of the magpie
that reflects the
bright and hopeful spirits” of my home
so long ago,
How, I miss my home where
the flower from heaven,
Mugunghwa blooms.
How, I miss the hard work,
As a poor farmer,
How very much I miss a kinder less
complicated time and place,
That was my home so long ago.
© 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC