Thinking of my old home and garden, I break
into a hundred thousand shards of mirror, not quite
identifiable, but not yet lost. They lay there
blinking partial, shifting images as the moon
paces above in its forgetting path. Shall I piece
them together? Is it time? Is it possible?
I am sunk. If I were to tell you of the swelling lake,
the tiny, unkept flowerbed, swaying, burdened trees,
you could only wonder if I was mad and perhaps lost
again on another street corner or in a conversation
with someone else you do not know…
…there was a willow that hung in the yard. We
climbed it like a pirate ship, and cut from it it’s
longer whips and spears, there raced our fleets,
commanded our steeds, fought for advantage toward
the highest branch, fell to the ground to die,
to be imprisoned, to transmute into other creatures.
———————————————————
This poem takes its first line from a poem posted by Leonard Durso which has been haunting me for a couple of weeks now (‘Hearing a Flute on a Spring Night in Luoyang’ by Li Po). If you haven’t already, please stop by Leonard’s site to read is wonderful work. Thanks for the inspiration, Leonard!
Poems from in between 
10 responses to “On reading “Hearing a Flute on a Spring Night in Luoyang by Li Bai (Li Po)””
Glad Li Po was your muse. He is often mine.
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The imagery in this poem is wonderful. I really enjoyed it!
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Thank you! So glad you liked it.
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Really powerful. I love the fractured effect you make, the poignancy of the last stanza and hope of the last line. Yes and “the moon/paces above in its forgetting path.” Going to have to read some Li Po now. 🙂
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Thanks! I have been kind of stuck lately. Li Po unstuck me. Definitely recommend!
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[…] Last Friday afternoon, I took a stroll through the town of Boppard (on the Rhine River)…I am still puzzling over the frescoes of mythical creatures inside St. Severus church. And dear Jenifer, I borrowed a phrase or two from your lovely poem. […]
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This is magical: ” They lay there / blinking partial, shifting images as the moon / paces above in its forgetting path.”
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Thanks, Benjamin! It went in some crazy places. 🙂
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You’re welcome. It went to the right places.
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[…] practice October: One November: Book of changes, i December: Another poem about a rose January: On reading “Hearing a Flute on a Spring Night …” February: Jacksonville, Illinois March: Twin waters April: Haunted May: Geraniums (Had to end with […]
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