Mandarin Sun.
Posted by Gui | Filed under Poetry
For Jordan and Crystall, with love:
There was a wise man that I loved much.
Who went to a strange land after his heart.
And his heart beat, red like the sun.
It brought warmth to his skin.
And he forgot about the moon,
And he wouldn’t dream about other stars.
So his sun wept, and her tears washed him pure.
And his heart grew.
The strange land became home,
For now his heart was ever growing.
And his sun would weep, because she never knew such man.
And her tears washed him pure.
Because now he was whole.
There was a wise man that I loved much.
He found his sun and she brought light into his soul.
There was a wise man I loved much.
Who left broken, but now was whole.
[Love] Gui.
Tags: Broken, Heart, Land, Man, Stars, Sun, Tears, Whole
As the dogs race.
Posted by Gui | Filed under Shorts
Gentlemen, raise your glasses.
Perhaps a toast, if I may.
So tonight we celebrate.
Him, our beloved, us.
The cigarettes, not the only royalty to touch our lips.
The wine, not the only to warm our bodies.
Think of what all this means.
So our differences are put past our nobility.
And our tastes be cultured enough to appreciate moments like this.
Lest not forget our tears.
Because they help us raise our glasses.
So gentle men, perhaps a toast if I may.
And the stars are brought closer,
And the moon becomes a witness of our chivalry.
We are noble to raise our beloveds.
Not a damsel to rescue. Not a virtue to boast.
Lest not forget our troubles.
And take vows like the one of Ruth.
‘Where you go I go.
What you pray I pray.
Your God is my God.’
And when the dogs fly out of those gates.
We remember that once, for once.
We were free.
So gentle men, raise your glasses.
For tonight, we celebrate.
[Love] Gui.
Tags: Celebrate, Gentlemen, Glasses, Moon, Noble, Royalty, Ruth, Troubles
More than community.
Posted by Gui | Filed under Culture, Poetry, Shorts
A man bought a house. Beautiful, sitting on a hilltop.
Excited with the life ahead he quickly moved in.
And the walls kept secrets,
so there was no purpose for the walls. He tore them down.
He found the house extravagant. It made neighboring houses look bare,
so he burned the furniture.
He realized how much he loved the rooftop,
but it kept the sun from warming his skin. So he drew holes on it.
The man saw he bought the house for its crystal doorknobs.
But their locks kept him in. So he made rings from them.
And its beautiful garden. Like Eden.
Streaming waters, birds singing, shade from the sun.
A place to witness the birth of the spring; and the end of a cycle through the fall.
But man was not to live on Eden, not yet.
So he dried the waters, freed the birds, and opened the shades.
And the man sat on the floors of his beautiful house and wept.
He wept for days, crying into the night. He wept.
His neighbors heard the man cry and thought it strange.
But the widows rejoiced because a man understood their pain.
So they came to see about this man, and so did the entire village.
Many people sat on his floors for it sheltered a crowd.
The rays from the sun made the women lovely.
Golden skin, wide smiles, radiance on their eyes.
And the men fell in love with the women, for now they were beautiful.
And the lovers wore his rings.
The man kept weeping, because it comforted the widows.
And Spring came and taught them birth.
Followed by the Fall, and they learned to let go.
And the birds sang a song of freedom, and a spring bathed his guests.
The shades gave refuge to the travelers.
So he loved his house. Beautiful, sitting on the hilltop.
And his neighbors saw he was an architect.
What once they saw as plain, freed their lives.
And many found it lovely, sitting on the hilltop.
And his weeping was sincere, for the Maker was pleased with His masterpiece.
[Love] Gui.
Tags: Community, Eden, House, Maker, Man, Rings, Wept, Widow
He’ll try anything.
Posted by Gui | Filed under Poetry
She’s only happy when she thinks he loves another.
Taking a deep sigh when he talks to others.
He dies a little bit inside.
So far from the truth.
And she mumbles her prayers,
while his words sink like stones.
And the boy who asked to not be afraid,
frightens the man who carries this burden.
And the girl who wants to be lovely,
stares at the woman sitting on the corner.
So he talks to others, because she smiles.
And he beds all others.
He dies a little bit inside.
So far from the truth.
[Love] Gui.
Tags: Boy, Fear, Girl, Lovely, Others, Smile, Truth
Leave your pen behind.
Posted by Gui | Filed under Poetry
What good is poetry if it brings no comfort?
As if talking about your depths brings understanding.
If only our words could hold up against the wind.
What good is to touch the within?
As if two lovers remained in their sheets.
If only to find out how empty it is.
What good are our smarts?
As if speaking in dichotomies brought purpose.
Full of emptiness, unwanted giving, cursed blessing.
What good is to love?
As if it was to be experienced by two.
If only the lecture halls were filled.
What good is a dead poet?
As if their sufferings were beautiful.
If only they lived to see the fruit.
What good is a river?
As if the water that runs through it will never dry.
If only a well that waters the garden.
What good is lament?
As if crying your sorrows made it any better.
If only our laughter were as memorable as our tears.
What good is knowledge?
As if the swine would wear our pearls.
If only we knew when to give.
What good is the ‘morrow?
As if the moon was never forgotten by the dew.
If only lovers sent the sun in seclusion.
What good is to show your face?
As if the dogs, collector and judges would forgive you.
If only mercy was not a pearl.
[Love] Gui.
