all living things have taken a break

all living things have taken a break,
even cars and cycles do not pass.
ah, there they are; two, four, seven...
even wind raises a tired puff off wild grass,
one bird hurries off fast
as a turquoise-backed beetle flays its wings;
an annihilator of manifest destiny sings. 
not a native soul in indigenous garb is left, 
only hermit crab-like men in European shells,
acting freely after subjugation,
on weekend vacations
that unions gave them,
through  red-stained bungalow sheets
written in grief...
does anyone care?
that no more birds are flying there? 
only a foreign renegade can tell;
a fighter against death, a true rebel.
alone and cultish,
clinging to the few that knew him well,
into the mire with forced grin,
aware that only he himself can win
what no one would care to know;
that living things have gone away,
packing and unpacking junk so slow,
the world renounced,
down to the lonely bone. 

7-31-16 

keep your nature

from homeward i was coaxed upstream,

by a gentle breeze over the Han ravine, 

where swallows dart in tandem,

and swarms of gnats o'er weed patch hover,

a graceful egret swoops, 

with insight of its nest,

nature does the rest.

like the ant 

that marches through the thoroughfare,

unbeknownst the cul-de-sac,

detoured but not deterred, 

knows the way around,
and knows its way back;

its second nature.

7-17-16

Election Day u.s.a.

Trump or trumped-up
scares the dickens out of the u.s.
Bernie or boycott
or get off the bus

american is just a wo/man
pension-less,impoverished,in debt
give the workers a working hand 
Bernie or boycott, you bet!

procreate with Bernie, plant a seed
start it over or let it rot
you will not have another chance
for a chicken in every pot

listen here, Putin, no black man shot
the snow job that Snowden was provoking
the world keeps passing the u.s. by
either get with it or keep on smokin'

China had opium easily brought
a nation too high to fight what they fought
dream on Bernie, cream on Bernie
or found napping you will be caught

stand up for Bernie, your only chance
or let Trump quicken the fall
over the Hill-artillery still
making fools again of you all 

may 2016

plum rain suddenly

i do not need a weatherman

to know which way the plum rain blows

it is like blue lotus rising fragrantly from the Nile

slender green fingers of rice paddies drinking

awaiting a rescue by the one who loves me

from my sheltered bench

of porous wooden slats

within sight of the swift and narrow Han

fed by mountain streams looking

like white water rapids of mini-Colorado

with egrets on her shores 

waiting for worms to arise

like migratory ducks under an overpass

cleaning dirty wet feathers

after blue plum rain clouds burst upon us

 as vainly i cover a book of Seven Flowers

hunched over a vulnerable laptop 

with no place to go

or place i would rather be

breathing these tropical smells

of  lush green Taichung deeply

and no other tongue would i rather speak

than the language of passing storms 

no time would i rather have

than my own good time

staying dry in my lover's eye

near the mighty River Han

6-7-16

 

www.readingsandridings.jimdo.com

Purchase "Unnatural Beauty;Poems from the Han Riverside" here.

Copyright © 2016 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved.

little falls sound like big falls

little falls sound like big falls

natural falls sound like artificial

mountain falls like falls from a skyscraper

steppe falls or one long swoosh

falls into the sea like a river or stream

the bigger they are

the harder they fall, it seems

larger falls more thunderous

lowly flows over rocks and vines

irrigate more softly

the land not washed in time

rice paddy water lingers

sustenance grows 

let it flow through me

whichever way i may go

without looking upstream 

without looking down

whether airborne showers

or underground

 let me not be stagnant 

evaporated, molten

 let me not be wasted moisture

frozen frozen

5-2-16

perish the fresh

perish the fresh

in one life long day

nothing comes 

that does not go away

the river's illusion 

passing through

in spite of you

in passing time

does not follow dates

a straight line

in any situation

making hours minutes

excited heartbeat fast 

slow when tired

thirty-two years of teaching

into a forty-six minute lesson

the river surges

pushed by a storm

down mountain slopes

into fountains' water 

in weekend parks

and Old Faithful families

up from the depth of the cauldron 

here in a flash

now gone 

4-21-16

hearing multiple birds calling

hearing multiple birds calling
drowned by the swoosh of vehicles passing
smelling the fragrance of plants and flowers growing
between bursts of exhaust pipes burning
feeling windy breezes freshening
seeing sunny skies enlightening
ringing ear reminding
lunch with wife inviting
lines on my face expressing
pleasure with the human race
mixed feelings 
nothing needs fixing
or commercial twisting 

4-9-16