Showing posts with label Existence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Existence. Show all posts

Saturday, March 14, 2026

Retrospect by Yongbo Ma

 

cottonbro studio

Retrospect  

I seem to wake from a thousand dreams,  

each one containing a real me, a real story, 

all converging like a sudden snowfall 

rising from the plain’s farthest edge,  

slipping from unseen, vast robes,  

whirling and whispering around me,

rising and falling, eager to tell me of those

dreamt events which fade with my waking.  

The woman who crowned my forehead with a kiss, 

I can't tell if she is my mother or my lover

I seem a red dove clutching poppies, plunging into

her embrace, or maybe I am the only cracked red

pomegranate that she can bring back from the light

to the netherworld, or the faint shadow on

her blue velvet gown when she was lost in thought.

These real stories seem to have nothing to do with me,  

they are but phantoms, beseeching me to summon them

into vision like sunlight imprinting on soft wax,  

this makes me lonely, I have spent many lives 

for many people, for many unfamiliar selves of mine

I learned languages not to speak to anyone,  

but to turn fiction into reality, reality into fiction,  

life is a dream, and that is not terrifying,

what is truly terrifying is that it is real.  

I ask myself: do you believe you do not exist?  

the answer comes from the shadows circling me—  

“your existence is only because you will cease to exist.”  

They answer as they recede, darting and peering

through endless colonnades, shifting doors,  

laughing and weaving in and out, for a long time, 

counting their winnings from the game.  

These are the shattered fragments from the colossus

that entombed me, they are at once roses and poppies,  

encircling a grand lily like a whirlwind’s amphitheater

or a more poignant image: a child sleeping on the

rooftop, awakened by the first drop of rain from the stars,  

rubbing his eyelids, trembling from the fiery dream.


© Yongbo Ma


Enjoy more poetry by Yongbo Ma HERE.



Yongbo Ma

Ma Yongbo was born in 1964, holds a Ph.D., is a representative of Chinese avant-garde poetry, and is a leading scholar in Anglo-American poetry. He is the founder of polyphonic writing and objectified poetics. He is also the first translator to introduce British and American postmodern poetry into Chinese.


He has published over eighty original works and translations since 1986, included 9 poetry collections. He focused on translating and teaching Anglo-American poetry and prose, including the work of Dickinson, Whitman, Stevens, Pound, Amy Lowell, Williams, and Ashbery. He published a complete translation of Moby Dick, which has sold over 600,000 copies. The Collected Poems of Ma Yongbo (four volumes, Eastern Publishing Centre, 2024), comprising 1178 poems, celebrates 40 years of writing poetry.


Monday, June 30, 2025

Three Seguidilla by Jake Sheff

 

Taryn Elliott


Three Sequidilla


The Seagull’s 134th Seguidilla

 

The smartest and the fastest

Gulls are gulls and gulls

Only. With humble and honest 

Hope, I crush my goals.

South-westerlies jogged 

The sky’s big white migration.

Since then, time’s jagged. 



The Seagull’s 137th Seguidilla

 

The minds of other seagulls 

Are behind a veil,

As are those other worlds to

Ours in parallel. 

Importance, too; I 

Know that to ring its frail bell

Sometimes experts lie. 



The Seagull’s 140th Seguidilla

 

One can’t miss how weird it is

To be alive. Sub-

Species of confusion try,

Like every Jacob.

Wholly unfettered,

A bird’s not free long without

My brother’s bollard.


The seguidilla is a verse form of Spanish in origin. It has seven syllable-counted lines, and rhymes the second and fourth, and the fifth and seventh lines.


© Jake Sheff


Jake Sheff 

Jake Sheff is a pediatrician and US Air Force veteran. He’s published a full-length collection of formal poetry, “A Kiss to Betray the Universe” (White Violet Press), along with three chapbooks: “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing), “The Rites of Tires” (SurVision), and “The Seagull’s First One Hundred Seguidillas” (Alien Buddha Press).

Wednesday, March 12, 2025

If a tree by Melissa Lemay

 



If a tree 


is felled in the forest

does anyone hear it?

 

Swaths of

bright pink paint

as outsides peel away;

 

how many years —

how many layers

have sunsets witnessed?

 

Snow

settles into furrows,

for the big freeze.


© Melissa Lemay

Enjoy other posts by Melissa Lemay HERE.


Melissa Lemay


Melissa Lemay lives in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, with her children, cats, and dog. She writes about God, addiction, trauma, healing, motherhood, and many other things. She enjoys spending time with family, drinking good coffee, and being outdoors. She loves animals. Her poem, “Ephemeral”, was chosen as Poetic Publication of the Year for 2023 at Spillwords Press; she was Author of the Month for July 2024 and Author of the Year for 2024. Find her at melissalemay.wordpress, collaborature.blogspot, and at dVerse Poets Pub. 


Featured Post

Tall Grass by Diane Engelstad

Leiliane Dutra Tall Grass I love how the tall grasses Panicum virgatum and  Chasmantium latifolium — perched at the corner where my drive...