Poetry

‘The imponderables’ and other poems

By: George Freek

THE IMPONDERABLES (After Mei Yao Chen)

In this mountain hideaway,
the sun shines invitingly.
A calm breeze hardly
stirs the river’s water.
Drunk, I stand in my doorway.
I hear the cry of an unknown bird,
and watch young squirrels run
in their mindless games.
I will never understand why
my young wife has died.
I won’t find an answer.
It’s hard to be alone.
My guts feel like stone.
I watch a crow circle the sky,
then land in a distant tree.
His calls mock me.
Does he know he will also die?

###

ALONE ON THE WATER (After Liu Yong)

The night is black.
The moon is lead.
The wind is strong.
I’ve drunk too much wine,
weaving blindly in a fog.
My boat shakes dangerously.
I drift aimless as a sodden log.
I look to the sky
for a crack where
some light can shine,
but rain falls like knives.
I should think of my wife,
how worried she’ll be,
but in moments like this,
afraid for my life,
I can only think of me.

###

A COLD NOVEMBER NIGHT (After Mei Yao Chen)

The moon, as always,
is silent. In its dim light,
dead leaves are falling.
I stare at mysteries in the air.
Clouds drift in pairs.
They might be lovers
going anywhere.
In the darkness I hear
the river flowing,
and I feel a sudden chill.
It will soon be snowing.
Like life and like people,
winters come and go.
I stare at my empty bed.
It has been a year, wife,
that you’ve been dead.


Categories: Poetry

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