These poems about love were originally posted on the AsianVoices Website (1997-2006), which featured poetry and fiction by young Asian writers.
Embracing Love
Time froze at the back of his mind
A stage of displaying a moment of truth
Memories of blissful pictures
got sorted out into an exhibition of expression
They both watched together as the drama proceeded
“How much is salt worth?” He asked.
“Never as much as a person embracing love, turning salt into light,
putting light into the life of others.”
He and she both together played a role
A moment of perfect symphony
Colour of Blindness
Appeared in the background,
Seated side by side with the harmonic conversation
of two naked bodies.
Salt, heated up uncontrollable desire
transforming passion into light
Shine the valley of
experimental future.
Embracing love
The lava plateau
forms a petal of silvery unity
radiated with distinctive uniqueness.
Love was, love is and love will be.
Salt turned into the light
that you and I desire.
~by Vivian Chiang (Hong Kong)
Love
Baptise me with your love
Offer me a new life
Reborn, rejoice and resurrect
Knowing the other’s thoughts
We share the same breath
We take the same step
We suffer the same pain.
Love is but a dream,
they said.
Yet what more can I yearn for?
Love is but blindness,
they said.
Then I wish I never see again, as
your love is my lifelong refuge.
Though I wish so much that I was in love!
seeing your mere existence
would put an end to imagination.
But I dream, I dream
I dream and I dream.
~by Vivian Chiang (Hong Kong)
Untitled
Her heart cut by a thousand knives
he keeps stabbing her in the back
dried blood like a parched riverbed.
She utters the love song
they once sang together
purple lips shiver
yet only silence
is restored.
Tears runs from the dark grey plateau
he tells the truth a hundred and one times
her eyes open wide as a pool of black honey
She blinds herself
happily seeing the reflection of lies
in the mirror of her heart.
Pain strangling her soul
he spreads salt over her wounds
to endless, soundless screams.
She smiles and thinks of the day
when their love was still strong
yet the image
starts fading fast.
Dreams shatter
sycamore dies
blood from Cupid’s eyes.
Her spirit transcends
into the mist of
immortality
~by Vivian Chiang (Hong Kong)
My Friend
Hello my friend
You cut my arms
when we shook hands
You took my legs
when we went out
I said I loved you
You divided me into half
and examined my bruised heart
You said you loved me then
stabbed me in the back with
a sugar-made smile
Oh my friend
The bloody eyes you freed
opened or closed
Their dropping tears
dressed me in red
Why couldn’t you see
The never-ending rain that overwhelmed
my dark red skeleton but
you only eyed me with
your greedy tongue and
sharp teeth
~by Nora Chung (Hong Kong)
Countless Letters, Countless Words
Countless letters, countless words
Be with me quietly
While the sun is fading away.
Faraway rosy clouds, faraway stars
Will they sing a lullaby
Let you sleep as sweet as a baby?
Countless yearnings, countless dreams
I want to tell you
Through the lonely nights.
Faraway breezes, faraway rain
Will they send you all my wishes
When my heart sings?
Who said
we must say goodbye, someday
once we met?
Who said
that’s the way life is?
I’m still waiting
waiting for you to return
When will I see you again?
~by Shiron Lai (Hong Kong)
Illusions
I can never see you clearly
But only feel you, the airy you
with my sore soul
from the shimmering moonlight on the lake.
For there’s always a layer of foggy air
in between, you and me.
I’m too weak
just too weak to break through.
Never, never could I do.
So, silently, in my own world,
a private movie theatre
I write our stories, silently.
A ramble in drizzles is enough
or sometimes a conversation please.
Dare not ask for more
for more means luxurious
I know
the more beautiful the illusions are
the more pain I feel.
Will you forgive me
if I steal your name
steal your shadow
to weave a life-long love affair
of you and me, secretly
without you saying yes.
That’s all I can take from you
not your love
not your soul
not even your smell
You make my heart ache.
~by Shiron Lai (Hong Kong)
The Wall
The wall is crying
crying
crying
Tears drop along it’s face
like a river.
Vapour floods, everywhere
Dew sucks all surface
stuffs every pore.
So stifling
The breath of muggy days
is as damp and sticky
as blood
too dense to bleed, too heavy,
it sends out
the odour of death
fishy and sickish.
Our love
being bred in this rainy season
is so wet and musty
can’t light a flame
can’t make a bubble
All still, then we drown.
~by Shiron Lai (Hong Kong)
The Unpruding of Eliot
how do I get past the phase of ‘getting to know’?
how do I show I’m more than my Mango clothes?
how can I get him to show himself intellectual?
how do I know, how do I know?
is it me you’re looking at?
or this flowery skirt of knee-calf length?
is it my scent or the cognac?
this is as good as it gets.
so I’m hurt enough,
and fate is misled by my signals.
therefore I shall not look,
for to look is to want,
to want the want to die.
however I will watch,
watch the dancers unfold
the treasurous breaking day
in the disfigured street.
but human kind
cannot bear very much reality.
[Rhapsod`F]
oh, I love u too.
n I guess that’s all.
neither more nor less, not here nor
there; just a thought that’s all,
that will not swirl into a ‘Him’ anymore.
[RedLily]
I’ll have him screw me among the sheets of paper stained by his geniuty
[Rhapsod`F]
instill his seeds of bleakness n unin-
telligible light of enlightenment into our bodies.
[RedLily]
it’s just the whole idea of screwin a genius writer.
[Rhapsod`F]
might he go mad screwing me,
just like he lets flow of his genius feats?
do I dare, do I dare?
[RedLily]
do I dare screw him on the paper strewn table?
[Eliot]
Only a flicker
Over the strained time-ridden faces
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Filled with fancies and empty of meaning
Tumid apathy with no concentration
Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind
That blows before and after time,
Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs
Time before and time after.
[Rhapsod`F]
screwed on the paper strewn table,
time before and time after.
~by Nicole Leong (Singapore and England
Silence
No sound No sound
at all between two people.
The soft roaming of the bus engine
and the quacking of people around
seem no business of ours.
I can feel the warmth of his body,
though no warmth from his heart.
Scenes from the window
are moving backward.
Silence prolongs the span, I wonder
why the bus is moving so slow
and the journey seems never-ending.
No sound No sound
at all between us.The peaceful
atmosphere brings two hearts together.
No eloquence is needed for
complete understanding.
Eyes touch, smiles meet
No words spoken yet true communication.
The roaring of the engine does not bother us.
We, hands together,
Live in a world of our own.
~by Katie Luk Wai-yu (USA)
Love’s Language
Love is a language
Hard to understand.
It has a complicated syntax
And conflicting demands.
When you listen closely
Do you hear a single voice
Or jumble of a jumble of conflicting messages and noise?
Ahh!
The human heart!
What a poorly designed machine!
It doesn’t function correctly all the all the time
Or come with guarantees.
~by Tim Newfields (USA and Japan)
Untitled
At the beginning of
our new found time
in a moment of intense stillness
in the hills of winter
where a little snow has fallen
you laugh and pick up some ice.
You hold it melting in your hand.
I open your fingers,
gleam of clear water on your skin.
We understand all in that moment.
Everything that follows
is a moving away from that time, that place;
so we persist in our dreams
and quiet memory of ourselves together,
insist on those few seconds
when we understood all
and a little ice melted
in the warm fingers of love.
(17 August 1993)
~by Andrew Parkin (Hong Kong)
Hitchhiking
It is like I was hitchhiking. So I waved and got picked up in a car going somewhere. I did not care where I was going as long as I had a companion. But after a short ride, just when I was getting comfortable, he dropped me off in the middle of nowhere and said he did not want anyone in the car. I did not do anything wrong. Yes, it was his car but it is common decency to drop people off somewhere neat. Before he left, he even gave me some advice. He said, with a lot of brain , “If you can’t find your way out, it is your problem. Can’t help you; I really don’t want to take anyone.”
~by Joanna Sio (Hong Kong)
Hot Chili Peppers
We are just standing
Side by side but without touching
In a spicy kitchen
Staring, silently, at the bubbling of the hot sauce with chili pepper
Green and red and green and red and red
Warm, dreamy and half hypnotized
I try to connect with you through telepathy
Via the hesitating smoke that surrounds us
You turn to me and smile
And I smile back
I know you know it is not the food that makes me happy
~by Joanna Sio (Hong Kong)
Brutal Decision
How come your hands so rough and so experienced decide
To touch my precious unexposed body
And soul mercilessly
Choking my life away and peeling off
My skin
Exposing
My flesh bleeding to the cold, corrosive world.
~by Joanna Sio (Hong Kong)
Wet Days
I wake up to wet days
alone, with barely a memory of you;
and nothing warms,
nothing in me stirs without you.
my bed is cold as concrete
and dreary as the skies;
passing clouds sweep away
the feel of your hands in mine.
~by Nine Suba (The Philippines)
Dressing
Halfway into your blueshirt,
You whisk dreamless conversations we never had
into self-inflicted wounds of words,
rayon textured, spun dry and hung
midway between the sky and my periwrinkles.
I watch intently, hooknosed and sharp-beaked,
planing at every crease my iron forgot,
planning the day’s grocery list from your frowns,
and, still, mussing your hair, I left—
A fleeting shadow across mine and your picture
hung across a cross of drapery you called feminine.
Tie-knot slips. And you are back to square one,
redressing intimacies that should stranger us;
the act—a hungered top-heavy bereavement,
from absentminded ice-cubed trays, empty
to accusing toilet seats, left standing indignant.
Eyeing you, I ease your slippered foot,
hardcased in pigskin leather, evening brushed
leavened with rising morning expectations
and now, dropped cruelly.
You do a quick half-step, missing tabletops,
missing my upturned lips, you blow into them:
a soft acquiesce, imprinting airwise, love.
I will pull the door’s handle and let you go.
~by Tan Tiong-cheng (Singapore)
Cookies ‘n Cream
I’ve been indulging myself
I wonder how you’re doing
So far away from me
I wonder if you think of me sometimes
The same way I think of you
Every time I pick up my pen
Wanting to write you something special
I end up eating your favorite ice-cream
As if you were here with me
The cafe that we used to hang around in
Has turned into a bookstore
It has the books that you enjoy reading
And the music that you like
I sometimes wonder
If you’re still the way you were
But then, even if I know
I still won’t know if I was ever on your mind
So many times I’ve picked up my pen
Wanting to write you how I feel
And end up eating your favorite ice-cream
As if you were here with me
~by Sannie Tang (Hong Kong)
AsianVoices Archives: These poems were originally posted on the now-defunct AsianVoices website (1997-2007), which featured poetry and fiction by young Asian writers. Copyright belongs to the original authors. If you are the writer and would like to remove, add or edit this work, please contact me at zijun01@gmail.com and I will promptly carry out your request.
