Lighter time

Time elapsing,

youth fading,

tinted with decadence,

and withered yellow,

walking on the beach,

one step,

two steps,

When she looks at me

It’s a thread of spring breeze,

falling on my lake,

the crescent moon at the bottom,

intoxicating,

the lake,

overflowing with light,

the whole world,

is springtime,

it’s a strand of sunlight,

illuminating,

the coast of,

my heart,

warmth surging,

fish swimming,

farther,

it’s a streak of lightning,

a momentary dizziness,

setting fire to,

the plains of,

my thoughts,

its the softest,

softest pool,

and pure,

like the deep blue sky,

once caved in,

it’s forever.

 

 

 

 

Summertime of May

It’s May,
what a fragrant season,
a love nest that accomodates many many dreams,
the pond of lovesickness,
in the city of May,
vacant feathers shining bright,
in the eyes,
everything beautiful,
implanted into the scenery,
sitting in a painting,
with a beautiful mind,
sweet as honey ,
beautiful watered branches of May,
circular dream stretching its tantacles,
for the love of all things,
the summer explores,
golden fireflies traveling,
white butterflies flying,
out of the dream,
an enchanted moment in the cocoon,
a burst of heavy rain from heaven,
like rolling stones,
tied with good news,
howling,
birds sleeping soundly in the grass,
they start flapping their wings,
to shake off dewdrops on thier feathers,
they want to fly,
on the branches of May,

the breeding of ,

many beautiful fantasies,

the sound of bird,

crashes the sky,

creeps into dreams,

hanging the most beautiful fantasy,

onto the branches of May,

all souls,

thoughts,

and desires,

like the seeds lost,

from the mouths of birds,

sown,

and sprouting,

in May.

The Milky Way

Beneath the stars,

a wandering bottle,

glinting,

melancholy between the eyebrows,

like blue waters,

deep blue seabed,

studded with,

a row of amnesia,

beneath the stars,

spinning,

like endless thoughts.

 

Gargoyle

An upright gargoyle,
hidden in moonlight,
wrapped in sunlight,
hilly wood is a lasting dream,
rivers are,
but flowing sadness,
weaving a boat with feathers,
a gaze carrying melting snow,
a mouth chewing fallen leaves,
rolling whitecaps,
surging,
like the sound of,
the evening drum,
the morning bell,
the distance,
on the tip of nose,
existing,
in confusion.

Vegetarians

No meat in your dictionary,
you make nutritious vegan food,
meticulously,
they say you’re,
otherworldly,
they say your’re,
a fussy eater,
that you’re,
a religious believer,
that you’re,
dieting.
You gainsay silently,
you take pity on creatures butchered wantonly,
you sigh for thier fate,
you pray for them.
They say meat eaters are mightier,
vegetarians the disadvantaged,
does food change your personality,
or it’s your personality that determines your eating habit,
is it innate,
is it acquired,
is it faith,
is it losing weight?
i think vegetarians are good and kind,
sentimental,
noble,
strongwilled,
stoic,
and elegant,
try vegan,
i think its good,
it’s healthy,
it’s happy.

 

 

Artiness

You’ve seen a lot of paintings,

you’ve watched many operas,

you’ve worn many pairs of ballet slippers,

you’ve tuned countless strings,

you’ve traveled to every bookstore round the corner,

you wake yourself up with symphonies every morning,

you listen to classical music while jogging every evening,

you always dine with cutlery,

you only buy clothes with nostalgic laces,

they don’t understand your artiness,

they don’t understand your life,

you’re happy sometimes,

and quiet sometimes,

any explanation is futile,

the sun will always rise tomorrow,

beauty doesn’t equal artiness,

refreshing,

elegant,

literary,

and delightful,

arty or aloof,

or deserted,

it’s a little mood,

a little idea,

it’s woolgathering,

it’s stargazing,

it’s dreaming,

it’s faint,

it’s remote,

it’s cold,

it’s touching,

it’s lightsome,

it’s free,

boundless,

and selfless.

 

 

 

FIne Arts Museum

Here i’m admiring,

murals, paintings, watercolors abound,

a whisper,

can make the hall shake,

those clear and apparent thoughts,

are being consumed,

here,

what the eyes can see,

the nose can smell,

the hand can touch,

are inlaid in this hall,

no one dares to hawk,

no auctioneers,

just arts,

here,

it’s like a timeless sculpture,

still static things,

beauty is always so intoxicating,

in the most conspicuous place,

i see an oil painting,

hanging in the center of the hall,

people just don’t want to leave.

A wave of people,

they left,

a new wave of them,

came,

and stopped,

in front of that painting,

it is too beautiful,

fascinating and salivating,

spaces in the hall,

full of people,

in front of the paintings,

lovers bill and coo.

crowd dispersed,

walking out,

still looking around,

as if they will miss,

an entire century,

if they missed a painting,

what kind of painting exactly,

was that,

venus with a broken arm,

or an angel in dreamland,

the crowd wondering,

and so am i.

Feeling the sun

Gently waving a pen,

in my hand,

feeling the thoughts,

exceptionally light and soft,

only the sunlight,

calm and quiet,

climbing onto my desk,

crawling on a writing paper,

here,

i’m feeling the sun,

writing down several lines,

carelessly,

it’s nothing,

pulled the wind,

to disperse the sad clouds,

and bitter fog,

tore a cloud,

to sprinkle some timely rain,

taking with me,

a handful of sunshine,

journeying through the world,

nature always treats us well,

here,

i’m feeling the sun.