Category: Poetry

the room is on the 77th floor,
filled with stones:
smooth or rough, sharp or round,
each has an unique character,
as you point out.

Sitting in a bamboo chair, you pour
two cups of green tea,
in silence, this room is an anchored boat.

We raise our cups, slowly
I sip the tea…
with the steam, your eyes hold me
as if the boat sails along

warm waves…

There is no destination, but music
and we float…

Now, my room is full of afternoon sunlight,
not the one that shines in a dark sea,
not the one that you wake up in,
and listen to the silence

and waves…

—Comments and discussions.

The Only One

I do know the silence
since I talk a lot in silence.
There are many colors in it;
I name each as my siblings.

But I am the only child.
I don’t have anyone to fight
or to accompany.
God says, we are all the same, brothers and sisters.
But he too is lost, and the lonely one.

As I walk with my shadow
I think of his journey.
I wonder
how he could carry all the burdens.

The road in front becomes foggy.

—my comments:
I just bought a book “The Best American Poetry 2010” and read Billy Collins’ poem: Grave… it talks about silence… I like it very much and wrote the poem: The Only One.
Here is the link of Billy Collins’ poem:Grave :

—-Comments from Chris Faiers and Terry Barker