Poetry

‘Why I don’t sleep well’ and other poems

By: George Freek

Photo by Kristin Vogt on Pexels.com

WHY I DON’T SLEEP WELL (After Su Tung Po)

The moon is the head of an axe,
splitting the darkness in pieces.
Leaves fall in the night.
dying without a fight.
They die so gently,
it almost seems right.
When I look at the stars,
they are very small,
twinkling like bells
on the cap of a fool.
Life is difficult to grasp.
But it doesn’t last.
A last leaf withers on a branch.
And when I reach for it,
it crumbles in my hand.

###

FALSE CONFESSIONS (After Tu Fu)

I have many shameful habits,
of which I won’t speak.
When I seek solace, the moon
is a willing priest.
It demands no penance.
It continues its sleep.
As time accumulates,
I realize too late
I wasted my life.
At my funeral, the stars
will be my mourners.
They’ll look on in silence,
and they’ll shed no tears.

###

IN MEMORIAM (After Mei Yao Chen)

Standing by the grave
of my wife, it’s only here,
when I’m near death,
that I appreciate life.
Her grave is nestled
in the shadow of a tree,
a shadow which
will soon cover me.
What must be, will be.
Memories are all I have.
They are painful.
Staring at her grave,
I ask myself
what use is poetry?


Categories: Poetry

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