it was inevitable
but only too soon
too young at thirty-four
the order was wrong
all too wrong
she left behind three
dear ones
(the world was a stage
and she adored them
through every fault
and every perfection
until the very end)
& thousands more
who knew her generosity
her kindness, her courage
people wanted to know
to connect with her
and she chose to connect
publicly
in the most modern of ways
that may have taken her away
Tag: poetry
Original poetry and translations of poetry. © Warren M Tang.
frogs
the sun hides behind the dark mountain
a low murmur seeps into my silent soul
the familiar chill of evening covers me
mosquitos hum their high notes
and the languid stars gradually appear
upon the blue-black washed sky
there, the waltz of the moon
continues among the stellar crowd
the organic night comes to life
unseen, in the shadows their talk
turns into song, i meditate to the drone
of late spring, early summer
and by morning light their chorus
fades to become scattered distant croaks
replaced by the ensemble of birds, bugs
miss conception
everything
without exception
are concepts
and no more
anything to lie
beyond
conception is a
misconception
vr
virtual reality
is nowhere near to be
virtually real
only noumena
& phenomena
will allow that
what is real
is your existence
but neither do you
bring reality
closer nor put it
any further away
switch
switch it on
where 2 can tango –
spice up lives
offer something
not virtual
limit my time
so that 1
can be real again
switch it off
sick poetry
literally
i am a figure
doubled over but
steering metaphors
driving porcelain buses
winter’s end
is always vulnerable to
birth, sickness, old-age & death
in that order. two more stops
until i get off
forty eight
life rolls on
as the hills
over the hill over
the hump, at least
will i
be ever satisfied
with who i am or
what i have become?
or is life
supposed to be
forever a bitter
disappointment?
forty eight
is not quite fifty
too close, i would say
the fa(r)ther away the better
no running in
the other direction
but try to run
i must & i do
because fifty
is too close
to a conveniently
imagined halfway
atheist become
released from
some kind of burden
you are light as air
& heavy as clouds
god did not leave –
not there to begin with
as they would
like you to believe
the world is yours now
but nothing will free you
from death and
to nowhere will you go
morning phase
pastiche pastel hue
of cycle
time rolling like waves
across your ocean
breaks in the light
up in the air
three sunbirds
a blue moon &
a drum for a heart
beckons me
#wordplay #poetry
i must write
must write
must write
must right
must right
right a wrong
write a wrong
it is wrong
not wrong
not wrong at all
at tall
at tall things
a tall thing
is this poem
a poem it is
signature103 