A Poem About Time (after Liu Yong)
I’m endlessly waiting
to find the words
to express the arrival
of spring’s birds, or for
something that has not yet
come into being, something
which will amaze me.
The moon climbs the sky,
then suddenly dies,
and my thoughts are paralyzed.
I look for the moon
hidden in your eyes.
Life is a mystery to me,
so I wait, and as I wait
I watch a thousand leaves
grow on a hundred trees.
Meanwhile we grow older,
and the stars which
once were young
and full of desire, die,
and slowly sink to their knees.
At Dawn (after Lu Yu)
I dream I’m a butterfly.
I drift without troubles
from flower to flower,
to suck their sweet nectar.
I take no interest in the hour.
But a crack of thunder
wakes me like a blow,
which is followed by an
inundating shower.
The sky is leaden.
There’s no sun.
I’m unable to leave
my bleak, empty room.
We lose our sight, our teeth.
I watch my hair turn white.
Yes, we all grow old.
I thought when it came,
I would be strong.
I was wrong.
George Freek‘s poetry has appeared in numerous poetry journals and reviews, most recently The Ottawa Arts Review, Acumen, North of Oxford, Triggerfish, and Torrid Literature.
Sparks of Calliope 