ralphlynn

[ralphlynn]

Confession of Sea

Confession of Sea

Hello, cold night

This is my first confession from this side of the ocean

So far away, your side’s sunny and my’s full of snow

And your eyes, like clear snowballs, and my’s sunlight

So far away, love engraved as wrinkles at corners of eyes

And stirred a small wave on the sea and beat my heart

[ralphlynn]

UNTITLED 2018-12-18

UNTITLED 2018-12-18

There’s a window

Capturing the view

Slow flowing of the light

You past the garden

Me chasing of your eyes

I am glad to say

That we have met

But that is all

[ralphlynn]

Song Of Hemlock

Song Of Hemlock

He, the friend of winter

Steps fell on the concrete floor

Cold of the morning and the mist

Love the touching of wintery metal

If he’s still in the mood of meandering

Upon the feathery snow, like a touch of lipstick

One tress of the early light separated the stratum

Of atmosphere, and lightened the air

In the calm morning a bird of no kind came

Flying so close to the snow as to touch

Why they’re here? By beautiful mistakes?

Or the warmer things have misguided?

And stayed here, on the twig

And stayed here, is him to wait

Where people had mourned of maudlin hemlock

And sung of other songs

Where people had watched the falling of the sky

Softest and lightest flakes

And conserve in the depth of his eyes

[ralphlynn]

Love Letters

Love Letters

Some letters of love lingers by the window

On hazed glass with a boy’s finger it writes

Little boys always dream of bloom

A glued love letter on the balloon

In no way they could reveal

Secrets that hard to conceal

  Or love letters will run into your bedroom

Through unlocked window or any means

Collecting the love letters from all centuries

Pillow whispers, with their separated fairies

  For centuries and continents

Transatlantic love letters always

Travelled farther than lovers did

Like flowers are baiting for our pates

To catch them before they fall to dirt

[ralphlynn]

UNTITLED 2018-11-14

UNTITLED 2018-11-14

The time walked through my temporal shape of body

Slowly in the midnight

It smiles with the flower of another time, bloom of eye

Sullen and watery as time

Pick this piece of sun and its leaves hurry while you can

Before it runs you down

Go taste every drip of honey, down this sunflower hill you

Will amble and hare

Have stars torn asunder and collect them close to your pillow

Sleep a sweet dream

Fluoresces and rejoices, like magic conjures and renovates

For this realm has no line

[ralphlynn]

A Question

A Question

Many people come here to ask you

The same question for over years

Repeat after voices but in same tone

Question that you could hardly reply

Because you too uncertain of answer

And no mind what the answer was

No questioner was seemed satisfied

Though with times you’ve been changing

The philosophy of your answers

Either sincere or you knew was a lie

This question throughout your life

[ralphlynn]

We Will Talk About Death Again

We Will Talk About Death Again

For nighty vision stirs the rings of fire 

And fire goes under the ashes

The highest heat burnt all of dimensions

of lives that came to death

The parade of black wing

See the mourners on the overpass

Jumping off the bridges and drowned

in water as they were dreaded of its name

won’t enunciate it for a second time

Yet fear has no place in death

Once it arrives the life past

all senses left asleep

rest in eternal air and unshaped dust

as it originated you and me

and divides the paths

The green-leave forest’s waves

eise and ebb in another way of

where loved ones go

The glasses burned and so the fire twinkles

splinters on the sands wrote down epitaphs

“When you learnt more about the sharpness

“of the dying edges,” admonished the Dead

Man, “then we will talk about death again.”

  We will talk about death again

When mouths of later people pecked the pink of your skeleton clean

When death gives up you on the halfway and everything gone past

We will talk about death again

When you hear me scream, and curse, with my madness in quiet night

When you see me dance, and bleed, with my craziness in heavy rain

We will talk about death again

When I am dead and no more fears possessed me around my bedside

When I am calmed and learnt once death arrives, fear has no place inside

We will talk about death again when the death is no longer here

We will talk about death again, when the summer’s here

And I hold this end of the sunlight, and death holds another

We will talk about death again, when the time comes

We will talk about death again, when the death arrives

[ralphlynn]

UNTITLED 2018-11-09

UNTITLED 2018-11-09

Birds that came into this light

Too bright for us to look behind

Fallen leaves will not stir water

Traveller will go no much farther

  Home garden’s low grass will keep

Autumn in the pace of summery leap

New birds at the classes are learning

How to use their wings that too thin

  Journey of migration this far and slow

With their bones too young and eyes low

Fly towards memories of soft smiles

Only a starlight for a couple of miles

[ralphlynn]

My Blue China Vase

My Blue China Vase

I live in my blue china vase

With foam-made flowers above my roof

My purple flowers and green leaves

Inside the glazed blue china vase

Appreciating reviewers would make my day

Once a while my mind is full of pieces

Of my sensory reminiscence

Spirals to the unbridgeable sights

I’m heavy with the many, many queries

Have I ever fallen into one of those?

But here’s no errors, because I am living

In my blue china vase

[ralphlynn]

UNTITLED 2018-08-26

UNTITLED 2018-08-26

Her sleeping body on the bed

With morning light and sheet

I kissed her along the spine

Feel her hair that rose for the coldness

And she stirs fingers in a lace of thin dust

Milk bottle’s cold drops wetted the

Mattress, with wine stains, muffed

The dirty footprints of her bare feet

  In noon nap, specks of glass looking mellow

She sleeps with her hair loose on the pillow

Quieter than the curtain that blew over

Her body and touched her soft nose and lips

Mails arrived in the box, though the milk

Might’ve turned sour, for it stayed in there

Since the morning, and the pot of flower

Next to the mattress is in its full bloom

  She mistook my grocery list as a new poem

“BLACK PEPPER, EGGPLANT, GARLIC, CHERRY

“GREEN BEANS, EGGS, CINNAMON, CELERY”

She laughs as she reads in her lovely voice

“With a beautiful rhythm and all rhymed,”

She says, “You’re a poet, so everything

“You wrote is poetic to the eyes of mine.”

As list-poem she bought home everything

  In many late nights, she has her songs

Jazz, Blues, Ballads, and Love Poetry

She lies nakedly on the bed, without sheet

Stares starkly into the lightbulb, or the ceiling

Though the time past 2 o’clock, but louder

And louder, I read her my poetry and philosophy

In the endless time, she yielded her closed eyes

Over all my poetic lines, and across the night

  She once had her head bent in the

Piles of manuscripts I stash by bedside

I read every word inside by her forehead

So close, without distance to her ears

Hard on the bones, and small in the eyes

One day you’d forget my name and the

Address that you once came so often

No mind the weather’s bad or just alright

[ralphlynn]

To My Recently Loved One

To my recently loved one

To my recently loved one

Who sweeps through the woods

And across the midnight’s sleeping stars

With glowing tail of light sought in path

Mourned in morning with doves from past

Yet, never left the trace for my tears to last

Be well in dying aureole, the one who loves

  To my recently loved one

Who wears black coat and deep green velvet dress

With watery eyes exchanged between aged dust

Held together all lights and for all lights must

Have been in your dim ring, and all fires exhaust

All words within the romantic poetry that has

The passion to love, and rest in eyes to be us

[ralphlynn]

Morning Song

Morning Song

The sky against the blue

Cold grey to be the hue

Sad ballads sung over the morning

Sometimes mist’s too easy be dying

Lonely house’s silhouette from far away

Hid behind the clouds rising by the bay

Close to the clock, people woke up

From the sheets, or nothing on top

From your bed, unconsciously totters

Some songs just louder than others

In the early radio, small talks of little means

By this hour stuffs you see are slow things

It’s sleepy eyes, caught the breakfast

Garbage food & healthy diet, eat them first

In the kettle, water boiling the rime

In the cup, it’s warming up the time

The morning tea and cream by the lips

The strawberries’ dew left by the tips

[ralphlynn]

I Am A Purple-Tip Match

I Am A Purple-Tip Match

I am a purple-tip match in this hotel room

The most pettifogging thing besides the toilet paper

I am dreaded to say, that one of my colleagues before

Me might’ve involved in a mysterious or suicidal case

  Petit four with hotel’s brand are my friends

Petite girls they’re mine romantic plans

Before they gone for teeth and tongues

Or they’d strike my little body in the first

 People use my forefathers to light cigarettes

Candles, burn papers of secrets or loving letters

And many other unknown materials gone ashes

Then they died in coffee cups or wine glasses

  The room maid placed me in the glass table

Next to the ashtray, he’s an old, stainless man

He’s the one of few who lasted the longest

In this same room, outside the stool and Mr. Bible

 He’s the coffin of many cigarettes’ ashes and butts

And cracked, burnt matches, but for now he’s my

Friend, and he told me stories, scary or tearful, most

Shouldn’t’ve happened, sounds happy or headful

  People came in alone, in pair, or maybe more

People inebriated or sober, they sleep in bed

Or chair, in the bathtub, or just on the carpet

Of floor, Intoxicated of something in the soul

 People wear leather shoes, high heels, sandals

Or bare foot, there were ages and times of tears

Quarrels and mirth before me, some fired and

Smoked in my flame, one or two quicker than clock

 People shout, laugh, cry or talking to themselves

To the telephone line, over a good or bad lie

Who’re they talking to? The hope exists in wire

There’s no one by their lonesome bedsides

  Yet, Mr. Telephone and its speaker knew all secrets

And the league of Telephones share it all, with the

Hotel keys who always been tossed aside the lamps

And the locker once a while been forgot to keep

 And he says, sometimes there’re traffic polices’ light

Through window glasses, tirelessly shimmers outside

And the curtains made the lovers’ sheets, dog barks

Only when a good night’s too quiet to be teased

  Throughout the night I lie untouched in the box

Like every purple, red, blue or green-tip matches

In every different places, inhered only in the boxes

Maybe there will be people check in tomorrow

 My relative, a blue-tip match, told me that I do

Have a soul inside my stick, and the purple head

It shines brighter than any human’s soul, when

They light me as they please, lungs smell of ease

[ralphlynn]

Insomnia Blues

Insomnia Blues

People in this hour, many came the prince of insomnia

His arrival approaches with heavy rain of dominant mania

Immersed in cold lipsticks and umbrellas in clammy air

Over the tips of blind but warm streetlights doves appear

Idiots came home, mirthlessly, but full of practical jokes

Dreamers carried their perfect eyes and half-paid bills

Smash the window glass, the woollen carpet worn by callous

Towel rubbed all over the body and every scar that hollows

Sleep with the cheapest loneliness, picture of childish fears

The lowest sounds in stomach were washing away by tears

All constellations powerless over their heads, outside nothing’s near

The imaginary cradle from your lost childhood puts you in extra-care

Singular lives that were born to be without any special bound

For inside your nightmares nothing but illusions to be found

Stars by the doorway, the curtain over the broken sun you pulled

One empty and sleepy page in this website now you should close

[ralphlynn]

Music-Listener In The Morning

Music-Listener In The Morning

It was about half of a mile of bad silence

You were a music-listener in the morning

Sorry I might’ve destroyed your wish to

Keep it alone

Do you loathe to be disturbed on the way?

“No such thing, I won’t be.” Please go away

I do now, understand why there was no hallo

Why your look so unpleased

It could’ve ended by “Good morning to you too”

Why won’t take your earphones down, wait for me

To walk away?

Were you going home in a rush last night, was my

Unclear question

Or were you just running away from this pathetic side

There was nothing in my mind

That could say to you

For a proper talk or for an amusing joke

So I hid behind your trail half one foot behind you

In hard search of the image and knowing I’ll fail

Perhaps there was not a excruciating time for you

Why did these sunflowers decayed? For they wouldn’t worship the sun?

“They’re the gardening breeds, so they don’t have a long time to run.”

There were your friends, friends for years not two days, so not to wait

And I escaped by flights of stairs, pretend that I was too late

And it’s half of an hour later on this pen

I’m thinking of so many things I could

Blabber to you like a stupid hen

In a poem you’d never read, no beautiful things and no translate

Though you’re a bad reader of Yeats but at least you read and mere

Morning music-listener, between these lines you were never really here

The sun glows early and bright, every piece is alike

The stone stairs grey and cold, many dusts cried over road