Nowhere To Go

One idle day I took a pen,
To scribble some notes on a crumpled paper,
As I wrote, my mind began
To imagine myself a Crafter.
My subjects were not earth nor rock nor wood,
But words of the English tongue
My arts were not learnt from books,
but from my fancy wrung.
Apollo blessed my very humble
Many nights of happy labour;
Yet sadly this aspiring (presumptuous) author
All dressed up but had nowhere to go.

Jack

The Fragrance of Autumn

Bloomed a thousand roses
Or a garden of myrrh exposed
The scent of your presence
Will other scents dispose

Bloomed a thousand lilies
Or a million stars arrayed
The grace of your presence
Crowns the heavenly parade

Bloomed Eden's flowers
Or display Elysian's gems
The thought of you alone
Surpasses all of them

Are you beautiful as described above?
Nay, you are beautiful beyond my verses...

'tis my god

I took a grand stallion
and proudly scale the holy hill
But you rode down the mountainon
a colt, in tears, in spirit humbler still

Tho' gods should sit on thrones
and mortals flock to kiss their feet
But you my god alone
for love reversed this deed

Tho' gods should dress in gold
and jewel crowns to don
But you to woo my soul
three rusty nails and a crown of thorns

Living in the tension of fear and hope between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday - Black Saturday A.D.2006 *

Dedicated to Mr. Yoon Steel John, my fellow poet at The Idiots

The Slumbering People

Once when I was passing a town
I heard the story of a Slumbering People;
Whether water or fire or enemy surround,
They will not depart from their slumber.

Then one day a ruthless enemy came to kill
All the Neighbours in the South;
The Slumbering People, peaceful and still,
Will not even open their mouths.

Another day, an angry fire broke out,
Burnt down the North, Neighbours' homes and Neighbours;
The Slumbering People, their business about
Will not even lift a helping finger.

And came yet another day, a violent rain,
The Western River drowned its banks;
The Slumbering People, indifferent, the same,
Watch and watch the water killed their Friends.

Thus the story of the Slumbering People
Peaceful, calm, comfortable and pleased;
But one fine day in their slumber,
Died horribly by a painful disease,
And no Neighbour was there their aid to call,
For the Slumbering People had earlier killed them all.

Jack
Inspired by:First They Came (by Pastor Martin Niemoller)

Humanity's Dream

And you will know the Truth, and the...

There is a Dream haunting Mankind
Real but ephemeral nonetheless;
Until slumber fades and the dawn light shines
'Twas a Dream Man die to possess.
How didst the slave know about Freedom?
When his feeble limbs were chained from birth.
It is that Dream in his heart burns
Luring him Freedom to love.
Like the gentle winter fire,
So tame yet it warms the heart;
Every slave's frozen heart aspires
That old old Dream of the prophet-bards.
Yet though desperately Man seeks his Dream,
Offering gold, bullet, blood and soul;
Until all his virtues and his sins
Found the door exiting this world;
Received the poor Man a Nightmare instead,
Every slave in the end, will end up dead,
Every man in the end, this slumber awake.

John 8:32

Happy Bastille Day 2006~Esp. to my brave friend, Sarah Wong who never fail to remind me of Bastille Day!