Tag Archives: poetry

Original poetry and translations of poetry by Warren M Tang ©.

building metaphors

we are forever
building metaphors
bridging gaps
between meaning
and form

transmitting
our intentions
our perfect,
static, timeless
ideals

from the mind
extended, like
antennae
now this –
my simile

constructed
and unplanned
the metaphor is
the foundation of
our abstractions

the definition of a soul

cultures posit this.
give it an existence
despite any evidence,
apart from its name.

this thing
is essentially
(                )
no-thing.

& those left behind
gaze at the soul
as though it is there
on the other shore

when in reality
even the shoreline
is a necessary part
of the illusion.

annual check up

sometimes
you just dont want
to know, when
everything
is running fine
running smoothly
it doesnt matter
if the metaphorical “oil”
is just a little dirty

starved
of food and water
i wait for my turn
along with the other
starving people
in the hospital
white rooms
that are never
quite white

the stale stench
fills the space
patients reading books
swiping screens
not wanting to know
not wanting to wait
the ping of machines
marking time, timing
the inevitable

inside the mind

we have no idea
we never do
what pains do people
have inside

a private space
for some
a suffocating prison
to others

my advice:
leave the door
open or at least
unlocked

let others in
keep plates
cups and cutlery
for guests

have seats
for friends to sit
keep it tidy
for unexpected
but welcome visitors

noumenon

you are not there
only in name
not fiction
not real
either

My 9-11

i woke to horrors others
had seen with their eyes
and i, only through
this tiny screen

but still
it was terrifying
to watch the heat &
the synchrony of it

that evening waiting
on a sydney pier
waiting for a friend
to arrive by jet plane

i watched this
faraway yet near
not dear skyline
in unnatural fear

sunday afternoon

slow but not
slow enough
is the sunday rest

tapping keyboards
before going to listen
to that strum and rap

all so uncanny
what technique is that
talking, talking

to lost acquaintances
before being bored
with the sunday afternoon