Stranded
At low tide on the dunes
Between the blue pond
And the green white waves,
The seal lays moldering,
Teeth bared in indecision.
Standing
Between the marsh
And the open sea,
I long contemplate
The dead seal.
Caught
On the beach at high tide.
Waves reach out
To grab ankles.
The early walker skips
In awkward dance
To avoid foaming
Fingers.
A Memory of Kites
(inspired by lines from Sandra Sisneros)
Standing on the dunes,
I watch the flock of seagulls
Chase one another in intricate
Playful circles, like children
Suddenly let out for recess.
They play and leap and fly,
Till suddenly the bell rings
And the flock of gulls takes off
Into the blue expanse
Above the waves.
The flock grows small
And smaller to the eye,
Dissolves into the bright horizon,
Flutter in the air before disappearing
Like a memory of kites.
3 comments:
I'm not well understand for the deep meaning but as I've read I can feel how beautiful inside.
Cheers
Sad poem, how you get the idea. It so sad.
I really enjoyed the second stanza of A Memory of Kites.
It's wonderful to see Hmong in the literary world. But you are the first Hmong poet that I've ever stumbled upon. Maybe perhaps I never truly searched to find them- but I have found you.
I'd love to ask questions about your beginnings into poetry and perhaps even ask for your insight and perspective about writing if possible. My e-mail address is WIGGLEWIGGLESHAKE@HOTMAIL.COM .
I'd love to hear from you.
- Da
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