By Iwazaru
Lake Naju
The cliffs rise proud and strong from Naju’s shores
where silence spreads into eternity.
The mountains are prostrate in servitude
to the timeless grace and beauty beheld
below in the wandering steel green waters
that have called to peasants, kings and poets.
A mighty muse softly wrapped and sealed away.
Fingers of wind stroke her shimmering skin
then disappear into the thick treetops
and off over the high eastern ridges
toward Unju temple where monk’s meditate
on existence and bound beads of time
that move as smoothly as Naju’s waters.
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A Late Summer Morning
My tea sat silently shimmering,
a late summer breeze pulling its steam.
Korean cicadas call to the sunshine
that dances on the rim of the cup.
The summer happily stretches itself
into September’s screaming schoolyard.
The tea, half gone, still retains its strength.
The season, nearing end, seems stronger,
Perhaps like the cricket’s vigilant calls
That warn of the cycle’s continuum.
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September 14th, 2010 at 12:10 am
Me likes this poem. Gonna try my hand at some poetry soon-ish!
September 16th, 2010 at 12:13 am
It is awesome.
I’m a Korean.
But it isn’t exotic atmosphere.
Absolutely Korean emotion.
So, I love it.