07-11-2012, 07:38 PM
At dawn the light is stretched to ground, below the still and perfumed haze.
The aspic air aglow and held by pointed props of bamboo staves.
The dogs, asleep in hessian walls or prowling empty alleyways,
growl at the early heron’s stab, its cover lost to circling waves.
As gold escapes the lidded eye that opens east on terraced slopes
the light-slit orbs of restless men, dog-barked in to brightening days,
glint; flickering as dreams depart, of bellies full and fulfilled hopes.
Each cheats close death in cold of night , re-born in warming rays.
Some few remain, in void of sleep, cold to the touch, as feigning death;
then rise in drowsy, languid time, with gnawing thoughts of breaking fast,
and with somnambulistic gait, and effort steaming in their breath,
they light stick fires to heat green tea and bubble rice; a thin repast.
But one lies late, and does not move; though dogs bark loud to end their rest.
Pallid on his coarse hemp mat, he lies inert in tightened skin.
The opium Peace has left her flower, one poppy placed on naked breast,
by one who knows that certain death, will come to those who let her in.
tectak
2012-07-11
Thanks to penguin, universal, erthona, leanne, billy then added empty for leanne
Chinese Torture edit 1. penguin, universal, erthona
At dawn the light is stretched to ground, below the still and perfumed haze.
The aspic air aglow and held by pointed props of bamboo staves.
The dogs, asleep in hessian walls or curled in stone stairways,
growl at the hidden heron’s stab, its secret lost to circling waves.
As gold escapes the lidded eye that opens east on terraced slopes
the light-slit orbs of dreaming men, dog-barked in to brightening days,
let glints escape to show the sun that life is here and stirring hopes;
revived by peace in cool, dark night and born again in warming rays.
But some remain, in dreamless sleep,cold to the touch as feigning death;
Those living lift in languid time, with gnawing thoughts of breaking fast,
and with somnambulistic gait, and effort steaming in their breath,
they light stick fires to heat green tea and bubble rice; a thin repast.
One does not rise, nor stir, nor move; though dogs bark loud to end their rest.
Pallid on the coarse hemp mat, he lies inert in tight drawn skin.
The opium Peace has left her flower, one poppy placed on naked breast
by one who knows that begged for death will come to those who let her in.
tectak
2012-07-11
Seems de rigeur to have a drug infested poem posted so here's one decrying the plight of the old chinese in the face of the new dawn in that country. Death goes on...don't it?
The aspic air aglow and held by pointed props of bamboo staves.
The dogs, asleep in hessian walls or prowling empty alleyways,
growl at the early heron’s stab, its cover lost to circling waves.
As gold escapes the lidded eye that opens east on terraced slopes
the light-slit orbs of restless men, dog-barked in to brightening days,
glint; flickering as dreams depart, of bellies full and fulfilled hopes.
Each cheats close death in cold of night , re-born in warming rays.
Some few remain, in void of sleep, cold to the touch, as feigning death;
then rise in drowsy, languid time, with gnawing thoughts of breaking fast,
and with somnambulistic gait, and effort steaming in their breath,
they light stick fires to heat green tea and bubble rice; a thin repast.
But one lies late, and does not move; though dogs bark loud to end their rest.
Pallid on his coarse hemp mat, he lies inert in tightened skin.
The opium Peace has left her flower, one poppy placed on naked breast,
by one who knows that certain death, will come to those who let her in.
tectak
2012-07-11
Thanks to penguin, universal, erthona, leanne, billy then added empty for leanne
Chinese Torture edit 1. penguin, universal, erthona
At dawn the light is stretched to ground, below the still and perfumed haze.
The aspic air aglow and held by pointed props of bamboo staves.
The dogs, asleep in hessian walls or curled in stone stairways,
growl at the hidden heron’s stab, its secret lost to circling waves.
As gold escapes the lidded eye that opens east on terraced slopes
the light-slit orbs of dreaming men, dog-barked in to brightening days,
let glints escape to show the sun that life is here and stirring hopes;
revived by peace in cool, dark night and born again in warming rays.
But some remain, in dreamless sleep,cold to the touch as feigning death;
Those living lift in languid time, with gnawing thoughts of breaking fast,
and with somnambulistic gait, and effort steaming in their breath,
they light stick fires to heat green tea and bubble rice; a thin repast.
One does not rise, nor stir, nor move; though dogs bark loud to end their rest.
Pallid on the coarse hemp mat, he lies inert in tight drawn skin.
The opium Peace has left her flower, one poppy placed on naked breast
by one who knows that begged for death will come to those who let her in.
tectak
2012-07-11
Seems de rigeur to have a drug infested poem posted so here's one decrying the plight of the old chinese in the face of the new dawn in that country. Death goes on...don't it?