Sunday, 11 November 2012

Allen Qing: Sample Work ©

This is the very first poem I have ever published (in the online magazine Mad Swirl, on 7 January 2011, while I was visiting my grandparents  in Jinzhou City, Hurbei Province, China):

Traffic Light

Green, Yellow, Red

Yet again I missed the light
What could have been
What should have been

My chance to burst to
The frontier of the background
Defining the jagged shimmer
Of the tender life force

But I wait, pondering
Is this a pre-carved destiny?

Green, Yellow, Red

Allen Qing Yuan

(added 01.07.11)

editor's note: Hmmmm. Footsteps destined? I think not. I can turn left or right, or right when you think I am starting to turn left. I can change my mind anytime I wish, with no divine manipulation; I'm thinking of a number, any number... DAMN! Missed the light again! - mh 

The following four poems, which have also already appeared in literary journals, seem to be better accepted than other poems I have written::

Komodo Dragon

Staring menacingly at all observers
You being the greatest observer of all

Claws scraping the loose earth
Scaly tail weaving through the sky

Rocky exterior grinding rock
Squinty eyes seeing all

And you wonder
What more is beyond this glass?

Banana* Blues: For Langston Hughes

I’m bluer than blue
A branch thicker than the root
A banana unlike any other fruit

But my growth has been severed and burned

Like a scale with weight it cannot measure
The music of my white soul
Is melancholy, oppressed
Singing without words
Confined within black bars

I’m bluer than blue
A composer without compositions
A conductor without a baton
To even guide himself

The song beats away as
I’m singing my blues

*American/British/Canadian born Chinese (ABC/BBC/CBC's) are often referred to as 'bananas' because they are yellow-skinned but 'white-hearted.'


Reality Recreated 

A transcending wheel of regrets
Sprouts forth wisps of choices.

Which world shall you conquer?

A directory of multiple screens,
Different routes, the same ending,
Where everything is really fake
But the enjoyment is surreally real.

An unhappy fairytale, an enchanted traveler
Bestowed with the gears of the mind.
A clockwork so extensive,
It has gone digital

Like a boy at the toy store,
He plays with what isn’t his,
A remote controller browsing fake realities.

Films of futuristic memories
Resurface on calm waters.
A beautiful portrayal distorted by the ripples of time.

One-time routines, impossible horrors, desired fantasies
Forged in the darkness of Helios
Shattered by glows of the god.

A current future passing,
A thought remaining unexplored

What could tonight’s dreams hold?

China-Charm: For George Lai Yuan

Blood-red intertwined thread of life
Passing through a shadowed low point

The lid, lukewarm, dulled and dusty
Inside the glass of time
A five year old grain of rice
Remains odorless and recognizable

With it, a petite pretty green blue flower
Flourishing without air,
Its potential limited by its surroundings.

In scripted onto the smooth
Yellow-tinged surface of the rice
Are yuan qing, my Chinese name
Looking like two Taoist drawings
It is a single small grain,
But I never forget the wide summer fields

Swaying back and forth without a creak or swish
It hangs high on the high lamp head
Much like the dreams of China in my head
A Charming charm indeed

Restrained but living
Living but not thriving


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