Plum Rain Cease Fire

The Han River’s muddy water,

 turns cobalt blue,

Days after the deluge, 

before the plum rain regroups.

Tall grass stalks flattened by the overflow,

Standing like crossbows,

 arch skyward in the sunlight,

Green with life, 

recovering from the strife.

All along the river floor,
scorched earth,

 brown and matted.

Drenched in mountain runoff

 coursing from the source.

A scouting egret,

 assessing survival,

 scours the shores.

Fish swiftly in rapids, 

over falls to Taiwan Strait.

Turtles seeking breathers,

 round boulders lost,

As machine men mad with motors,

 march at any cost,

On the one-way, each way,

 winding high road dykes.

The pause in the downpour,

 means recuperation no more,

but a chance to get on with, 

their damn vacation?

And the merchants,

 blessed with collateral,
damaged,

busy their vocation.

Who’s there to feel 

the pain when nature mourns?

How does it feel 

when nothing can go wrong?

When no one overseas oversees,

or picks up the pieces of driftwood?

A near folly* of firewood in the rain.

Left like a singer in a storm.

May 26, 2019
*Dedicated to Holly Near" 
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She’s In For Her Second Chemo

Some ladies go for bingo,

To salt caves therapeutic,

Cryogenic chambers of liquid nitrogen,

Aromatic holiday spa with masseuse beautific,

My baby goes for chemo.

I go for bike rides up the riverside,

Laps in the pool, a sauna room,

Language exchanges, English strangers,

And meals that make me drool,

But my baby goes for chemo.

Some ladies go to roadhouses,

For men who go down slow,

But the cranberry concoction,

Drips relentlessly without passion,

Risking bad reaction.

I am without my babe at home,

Nowhere to go, to be alone,

Or place I'd rather roam,

Hoping her pain won't show,

As she recovers from the blow.

I will bring her back, fatten her up,

Hand her a cup, and shut myself up,

Mother’s Day chicken Masala with mushrooms,

French onion soup, zucchini Parmesan,

While the cats she loves play on.

It's a calm peaceful morning,

Blue clouds and soft cool breeze.

Roosters crowing, birds are singing,

Bobbie kitten on the patio besides me,

And bugs are my only camaraderie.

May 4, 2019
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Deaf, Dumb and Blind Boy

Little needing material possession

So there is not much to buy

There’s a humble way to go back home

So there I will go to try

A bicycle is transportation

Swimming time for concentration

A walk in the forest: recreation

To my children I must fly

And places that intrigue me

Not going will beleague me

Arousal warms my body

As the sunshine warms my hide

Food whatever is the cost

Pretentive violins are fiddling about

Music sears my ringing ears

Laughter calms my deepest fears

Only company evades me…

Friends are few and always lost

Gone the gang since teenage hood

Loneliness’ subtle scent of sadness

More or less my theme

With no requisite for making friends

I wander around in my dreams

Ever the apogee of my career

I'm introspective without self-pity

Spells of melancholy

Until my sweetheart’s voice surprises me

Where my emotions are spent

In my permanent tent

With rings of performing cats

And her clown of renown devout

As far as I can be

One thing pings my heart

Makes it rush out to me

Flippers and bumpers

My little zone in heaven

Dragging me out of hell

What material life can be

With games played alone for free

Regardless of the cost

I am my favorite boss

April 7, 2019

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My 28th Anniversary Sonnet

The river rushes overgrown with moisture undertow;

Birds don’t dare to fly in there,
A canopy so free winds wayward overblown;

Butterflies strain, lizards stare.

Mountains fall, both big and small;

Dusted leaves caked with debris rust my true eyes tearfully,
Through hidden skies appalled;

All that’s born and greets the dawn dies eventually.

It is not for me to witness thee or dare to ask at all;

Observe, recline, wake and dine never with a doubt,
I am only here to love you, dear, and stand until I fall;

What cannot change me anywhere without,

Crash and burn from marathon miles, not my fashion style,

I live to see the river shores from both sides of your smile.

April 7, 2019
edited June 30, 2019

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looking to the hills through cannabis eyes

looking to the hills through cannabis eyes

its shrouded face unveiled to see

dreams in realized retirement

in Taichung  City by the river

senses anesthetized, set free

with a dollar hobos can roll a joint

smoke like vaporized expats entrenched

 hermetically sealed from locality

staring into space over the river gap

with stupid mushroom eyes laughing back

too late to saddle and ride the sky

too much weight for butterflies

the river coursing through my veins

streaming my conscious thought of train

bursting my bubble of smokey flame

through legalized insurgence

 swiped tickets along the journey

on the mode of transportation

better a pipe passed sociably

than steeped in dust, held in gravity 

when i am back to myself 

and the world no longer rotates around my dream

i will retrace the steps passed the temptress 

resist the aroma of a long forgotten pizza 

that triggers flashbacks  of dependence

March 18, 2019

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As Darkness' Brush Strokes Creamy Clouds

As darkness' brush strokes creamy clouds

And beckons me a chill reminder,

Are they passing over my life's dry socket? 

“It looks like a storm is coming.” 

I believe her and do not await the downpour

I beat it with the wind at my back 

to where the devil  has no home

Race against the tide of changing winds

No reason to hide but to begin 

(“Let me tell you 'bout a dream
You know I saw her in a dream

Oh, St. Charles sings
Sings about love
St. Charles, tell me tonight
Won't you tell me 'bout love
You know I saw her in a dream)

'Twould be worse than a wet-nurse

Milking a screaming storm

Squeezed from ominous southbound clouds 

Absorbed into the parched brick path

Darkening sunny ground by tropical trees

That feel the breeze and bend in respect

Rather than snap, forth and back.

Then she warned me and I return

Towards louder the beat of her heart

(“There was China, in her eyes
In a silk and velvet disguise
She was movin' like a lady
Lookin' like a dragon princess
She was walkin' by the river
Rollin' in a rhythm of love
I never felt like this before”)

She moves me and I move

No sense in staying to warn strangers

Of the danger in taking disinterested parts

Not in the interest of loving workers

I feel the temperature drop around the river

See the riders heading wrong upstream 

Donning their ponchos without a dream

Only she interests me

And I hurry home to be

(“Oh, St. Charles sings
Sings about love
St. Charles, tell me tonight
Won't you tell me 'bout love
You know I saw her in a dream.

She is the storm bringer,
The storm changer.”)

I will “Tie myself down to the main mast
Like Ulysses in the water storm
Winds comin' down the main line
Tie myself down to the main mast
Tie it down with love.”
I feel it, “stormin',” I feel it coming,
I can feel it now, “stormin'”
I feel it coming, “stormin'”
From the safety of our home. 

(Thank you, Jefferson Starship)

March 3, 2019

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Copyright © 2019 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved.

Angela Joli is Pretty

Angela Joli is pretty,
with or without mastectomy, 

whether or not she's reconstructive

Lets no cloud come down destructive.

Replenishes herself in an endless ocean 

From where all her talents spout;

No Moby Dick  obsession in her gentle sea.

Biological clocks set to local time

Do their sensitive synchronized crime,

As signals from the environment try

Though chemical reactions to make us die.
In dusks and dawns that do not change,
The sun will rise; days cannot without

No hell can stop that beauty's prime.

Long live brave Angela Joli.
Let imposers vamp in their eternity.

Let Boy George pretend,

Let Bruce Jenner mend,

Femininity comes from within.
Let the drama queens pout.

It is something we cannot see.

Pity the woman who sits on her laurels,

When life turns bleached like dead white coral.

If it takes a surgeon’s knife,
To save a beautiful life, 

From a frozen puddle of black ice,
Look ahead and cut it out 
Virus from a meltdown's quarrel.

See the egrets sunning on the river shore,

Ride past their flock once more. 

Her life is not your movie picture,

Permanent fixture, or religious scripture.

Beauty stared at will up and flee,
As a life in denial will surely rout, 
Be like Angela Joli; fly evermore. 

Give love, give love, keep giving love,

No other way to kindly live love.

From the corner of the eye, gaze at love,

Ride the windy wave of love.
All we want is more time to live,

What else would life be about

More time, more time with your love 

All  winter long buds ready for spring,

Bear the cold , survive what it brings, 

Like a coming attraction, anticipating, 

Predicting the future, physically awaiting.

Our love clued in by flower buds,

Will maximize the summer throughout,

Let all Joli summer egrets sing!

February 15, 2019 

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Copyright © 2019 by David Barry Temple. All rights reserved.