Saturday, 2 July 2011

Li Po the poet


White light opens vivid scenery
acres of cherry trees line the bank
of the ancient river yang

the river swells, overflows its brim
flooding between the virgin bark trees,
blossoms float towards the muddy flow

sparkling diamonds of red blushing white
crown the slivering goddess and the sun
plays kaleidoscope with its glistened laurel

a tender soft roar of a splashing dragon
takes me to a man that calls himself
Li Po

history knows him not
libraries cannot account for him
writing poems at the grassy banks

he gently drops them into the river
flowing towards the unchartered ocean
of forgetfulness

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