DePen Chang

In galaxy and nebulae
Mirrors the deep and lustrous
Kind of planet
Reflecting its alike twins
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The vine winding at wall top
Dangled serenely the yearning
Hundred leaves of vine look afar of the night sky
Thousands stars
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Do the weather leaves know
Who trod?
Who collected?
Wrote verse on every piece of withered leaf
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Deep autumn is tinted by reddish maple
Adorn gold the wood path
The falling leaves extend time’s carpet
Playing squirrels insisted the blessed midsummer
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The kite probes the sky face
Fictitious the leading thread
The children hold the distant fantasy
The shade of children’s dream
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Poetry is core of arts
It’s not strange!
Not knowing that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not strange as well!
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In dressing room
Naked eventually to see the hands and feet
See the length of hands and feet
Like to see one’s length or shortness
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The existence of god
Is abstract
But you actually subsist somewhere in the world
Is the sustained long waiting
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The voyage left the feature of hourglass
The route staggered on sea map
Loaded in one port
Unloaded in another
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Seeking a dream to embrace you
A place never been traveled
Deep in the pupil of eyes……
Sea of tears overflowing the eyes of earth
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If someone asks
What I lack
I say I am unfaithful but sincere
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Don’t know when
The chrysanthemum
Trembling a few
In the wind
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Poet, an industry not of mankind
An era that poet’s in awe to partake a rite
Poetry belongs to the ancient tribe
An era that poet’s dissolute and roaming
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The city after you left
Should decrease some weight
The road trees forget the lovers’ footprints
Through the falling leaves along the path
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Did hand and palm record the present and future lives?
If there is present life
Still in a naive dream
You are rolled in a night for pregnancy
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Apple delivers the color of love
If it’s green and tender
Like the first time I saw your unfamiliarity and shyness
If it is crisp and crimson
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In anniversary opening
Captured indeed the hue and aroma of natural flowers by plastic ones
Aligned and surrounded the dozens of garlands
A congratulatory pomp
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Raindrops fall on the face
Said the one who cannot meet
Missing is sweet of a whole heart
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Waiting for you
Tapped on the beach where the wave swept the footprints
The seashells rack their brains
How to attach to the ears to respond the tide?
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Just a less of you
The harp broke its strings
Can’t play the pleasant music
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