The Thirteenth of a Dozen Verses

Photo taken on Easter Sunday, March 27, 2005, in Surrey, British Columbia, Canada: Hiding some easter eggs in the backyard which the children hunted afterwards

March 27, Sunday
*Easter*

Your fits of rage are not amusing.
Why can't you know they are disgusting?

Oh well, at least, I'm learning something
Despite my heart that's always burning

With resentment and hatred, hurting
Deep inside; I am always crying.

Oh how I wish I'm home, egg hunting—
My lovely home I'm always missing.

Your fits of rage are condescending.
My self-esteem I'm slowly losing.

Though I know now there's no returning,
I'll never stop myself from dreaming.

March 28, Monday
*Homeless*

It's hard, it's sad to feel alone and homeless.
My Bard, my god, I feel pathetic'lly hopeless.

My lovely home I terribly miss—
Where I could do whatever I please.

Oh, my love, I yearn for your french kiss!
When can we really touch, play, and tease?

Don't tell me my complaints are pointless,
For they steer my mind from madness.

To feel alone and homeless is hard and sad.
I feel pathetic'lly hopeless, my Bard, my god.

I terribly miss my lovely home.
I'm yearning for where I used to roam.

March 29, Tuesday
*Butt!*

I'm sad but I'm happy.
I'm hopeful but hopeless.

Not alone but lonely,
I'm home but I'm homeless.

I am brave but fearful,
Courageous but doubtful.

March 30, Wednesday
*As*

The lawn has been mowed.
'Spring water has flowed.

To where have the birds flown?
'Til when will my heart moan?

As I lie here and wait,
I give my life to Fate.

March 31, Thursday
*Wander*

The Heaven is drizzling;
The streets and roads are wet.

My stomach is grumbling;
Kebab I can't forget.

I'm wishing to visit
Any Chinese province,

Meet a bardic hermit,
Sing along with robins.

I'm smitten by kanshi,
As well as by Zhōngwén.

The art in poetry
Is great to learn somewhen.

April 1, Friday
*Bough*

Peeking at the backyard through the blinds,
My sight's lucid, senses swift as winds.

My mind is restless, the times are tough;
Solace I find in watching the bough.

Whatever happens my dreams shall live;
More important is, I am alive!

April 2, Saturday
*Unhappy*

I have not been this unhappy—
——not alone but lonely, uncertain, penniless.

I have not been this unhappy—
——reduced to a beggar, a prisoner, a mute.

I have not been this unhappy—
——so full of frustration, so full of resentment.

I have not been this unhappy—
——always uncomfortable, angry, and fearful.

I have not been this unhappy—
——stripped of my own life and the power to decide.

I have not been this unhappy—
——seemingly incarcerated, chained and shackled.

April 3, Sunday
*Pope*

Steady rain on April's first Sunday's
Pouring forth—teardrops of the sky,

Mourning for the death of the Pope—
A man came in the name of God;

A good man came and went.
The noblest thing the man had shown

Was how to die in peace and with grace.
The noble legacies he did leave

Are hard for another to conceive.
The Pope has died, the Pope is gone;

But his dreams remain, his life fulfilled;
As steady rain is pouring forth—

April 4, Monday
*Music*

Music documents, chronologizes,
And preserves memories.

Life and love without it
Are memories bereft of melodies.

Though it sings of tragedies,
It cure emotional maladies.

April 5, Tuesday
*Ants*

Pesky li'l black ants start to swarm the house,
[At last! Summer is looming]

So Mike puts pesticide around the house.
Alas! The ants are dying.

I miss the li'l black ants swarming the house.
When will they be returning?

April 6, Wednesday
*Warm*

Cackle here, cackle there,
The crows are everywhere.

Sun is bright, Sun is warm,
Oh, I can feel his charm.

'Sneaking in, 'sneaking out,
Squirrels hop about.

The whir of lawnmowers I can hear,
The scent of grasses I smell, oh dear!

Flowers blossom, leaves glisten;
I better hum and listen.

The clouds are so marshmallow white;
I wish, it means my future's bright.

April 7, Thursday
*Wrong!*

In her journal she once wrote:
"He has many choices, and he did not choose me."

It stabbed her heart so deeply:
"Oh how he sang to me but with a broken note!"

"Years have passed, gone was his past;
To me, my friend the Wind brought him back."

"Like a feather blown by luck,
He gracefully fell on my waiting palms at last!"

"Oh how my tender mouth aches
For at least one soft sweet kiss from his lips."

"I fly to him as he sleeps,
So I can be with him as he awakes."


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