Flowers in the Borderland

Flowers in the Borderland

Flowers in the borderland are beautiful as

any flower in the center of the Continent,

but not many people watch the flowers in the borderland.

That is sad..

The sailors returning from the other side of the ocean

know that the borderland flowers are equally beautiful or more beautiful than

any flowers on any port of call;

No flower is more beautiful than their wives or lovers at home.

The longer their separation is,

the more tearful their reunion will be.

The more tearful their reunion is,

the more beautiful love is blossomed in a flower.

Don’t feel sad!

I am going to tell the world that

the flowers I saw on the cliffs in Portugal

are the most beautiful flowers, unforgettable.

---

A Girl washing my feet

A Girl washing my feet

I went to a foot massage parlor

after the Great Wall outside Beijing.

We were assigned to a small room.

Suddenly my privilege to travel

became my shame.

I was not a nude,

but my two feet made me a bit shameful,

when a teen-age girl came to me with a water basin.

My wife was assigned by a teen-age boy.

Our feet were washed, cleaned and massaged

by two children.

They asked once in a while in broken Korean language,

“Do you feel good?”

I could not answer: I just smiled at her.

I could not ask a question, “Are you going to school?”

Jesus once washed his disciples’ feet.

Does He ask me?

“You are fine. Don’t be ashamed of!”

To Poetry

You are the only thing left to me

after I have come a long distance

from my hometown..

Now, I am sixty-five.

I will rely on you for the rest of my life

in the time my vision is blurred and hearing is hampered

because you are a beautiful dreamer.

When I dye,

Please bury me in your ground

with all beautiful metaphors.

Outside your window

my spirit will be wildflowers in spring,

my spirit will be a green azure in summer,

my spirit will be a maple tree in autumn and

my spirit will be snow from heaven in winter.

You should light a lamp for a wayfarer in the night

who is coming from a long distance.

You are soothing and comforting the souls.

My friend!

Angel’s Words

Angel’s Words

My earthenware is more beautiful than any porcelain,

and it makes sound more beautiful than any golden instrument.

Your loving care is more than my bowl can contain;

Solitude

Solitude

When you cannot handle solitude,
walk into the woods and talk to the trees and birds.
Then, the water in the creek will carry your solitude to the sea.
I know solitude is the disease of those who live in the high altitude.
If you still cannot handle solitude,
communicate with the stars in the night sky.
Then, the most shining star which looks like the chrysanthemum,
hyacinth or the firework in the summer night’s dream
will present you one beautiful poem
no one can write.
That poem will cure your solitude.

April

April

Cherry flower petals falling down
like white butterflies
land softly and cover the green grass.
Then, real butterflies coming down from the sky
to the Earth
dance in between magnolia flowers.
It is a beautiful dance festival.
The butterflies are whispering to the flowers:
We are leading the feast.
They are questioning:
Who wrote, “April is cruel!”

March

 

March

Suddenly

cherry blossom,

yellow flower fence, and

light green woods

are making the deer family run out of the woods

to the green field where the blue sky is hung.

The nature’s revolt:

The naked trees are making Monet’s impressive art,

bright color as much as the bright sunlight

at Giverny,  France.

I see a revolution to this world.

Hummingbird

Hummingbird

---To Georgia O’Keefe

1

A tiny bird’s long beak is

penetrating into the nectar of an oasis tree’s flower

on the New Mexico Desert.

Two wings constantly are flapping

in the air to stand still.

What kind of wings are they?

One step backward from the flower

and two steps forward

in mid-air

toward the flower

(No other bird can fly backward!)

2

You are the most beautiful flower in the New Mexico Desert.

I become a hummingbird

flapping my wings 90 times per second

to be engaged in an aerial warfare

with the fragrance of the flower for one ounce of honey.

3

The 10-centimeter hummingbird

is descending 80 meters per hour.

New Mexico Desert

from the sky to the earth

is full of your fragrance

via hummingbird.

Renate Hong----Who can blame this German Woman?

Renate Hong
----Who can blame this German Woman?

A young German woman fell in love with a North Korean student at Yena University in the 1960s. Their first love overcame the national boundary line, color of skin, ethnic looks, and language differences. They married and the first son was born in a year and another pregnancy came in joy and happiness. Then, the young father had to return to North Korea. Recall from the Communist Party! They parted at the Yena Railroad Station with tears. He promised her that he would return. She did not doubt his words. However, his promise was not fulfilled in the following 48 years. In those 48 years, she wrote mountains of letters to the North Korean Government, the International Red Cross, the United Nations organizations, and South Korean president Kim Dae-jung who earned the Nobel Peace Prize to get back her husband. Finally, she received a letter of invitation from her husband in North Korea. She prepared multiple photo albums for hundreds of photos of their two sons from their childhood to adulthood. Then the despair: visa was denied from the North Korean embassy in Germany. She sent many letters again to North Korea and finally received the visa. She and her two sons were greeted by her husband and their father, and his daughter from his second marriage to a Korean woman at Pyoungyang airport. They spent three nights together. He handed a short note to her at her departure:
“I want to see you in Berlin next year!” Next year has not come yet. She does not know when next year will be.

Who can blame her fatal attraction to a North Korean student?

Who knows their love story?
All humankind should know and read their love story.
Their love story will touch all humankind.
They met when she was 21. Now, she is 71 years old.

Who drew the national boundary line?

Who invented the passport and visa?

Freedom to see her lover should be respected and admired with tears from our eyes.

Army Second Lieutenant

Army Second Lieutenant

Everlasting youth and vitality

inside the rank of army second lieutenant.

In the hot and humid summer training camp,

I was always the last cadet in the standing on the ground.

That was most unforgettable part of my college life.

While Lee Mi-ja’s Camellia blooming,

Dancer’s First Love was revived as the chorus song

in the weekend R and R session

on the darkened ground under the starry sky.

The Youngchon Officer’s School, our last schooling,

and the Second Korean Army Hqs. in Taegu City

I served the first year were surrounded by apple orchards

have provided an enormous experience to my life and poetry.

When my ears were familiar with Taegu woman’s accent

and intonation,

I had to leave the attractive woman’s city for the front line.

There I ran Euijongbu, Moonsan, Dongduchon and Pochon, and

finally crossed the 38^th parallel in one evening.

I realized that Imjin River was the river of the division and that

The moon over the demilitarized zone was the same moon

I saw when I was young.

After two years tour, I returned to my graduate school,

but I still love that young officer’s rank.

I prefer one diamond to one star,

because I see my youth and vitality forever

from that diamond.

Mother

Mother

1

The most beautiful breathing is my mother’s.

Her heartbeat is irregular,

but breathing.

That is the most comfort I could get from the night.

Breathing I hear from my mother’s bedside

is mine or hers, or both of us.

Do you know 

my mother is still alive,

next to me?

2

Rejoice in her abounding grace.

3

Mother suffered the anguish of dying,

but I only remember her love,

mother of abundant and unconditional love

always and forever.

My Country

My Country

Mountains over the mountains,

I can only hear a cuckoo’s song.

Among the layers of the mountains,

I can hear only the cuckoo’s note

in green, green, green of the home.

The distant hills look much too near.

Landscape

Landscape

Backyard became villagers’ permanent resting place.

High bell tower of a small country church

is higher now than before.

The village is blessed under warm sunshine.

Retiree’s last words

Retiree’s last words

           Yearn Hong Choi

The retired teacher sent his books to his country hometown’s library

And to his close students as Christmas gifts.

He did not know where to go next.

Packing the books was a war against dust.

Although I did not open the windows all those years,

The dust invaded my apartment, and covered my books,

Art works and furniture.

I had to fight the black dust for several days and nights.

I threw out many things to the recycle bins: my scrapbooks, papers, and even blankets.

I paid money to dispose my TV set, record player and furniture.

I could not dispose my body, so that I found a way out: a public bathhouse

To clean my dusted body and soul. But the soap could not remove all the dirt.

So I remained in the bath house for a while,

Thinking of my next destination.

When I go out, I will follow the direction of wind:

I will go to the airport to take a plane to a tropical island:

I don’t care which Island, as long as it is warm enough to not need a blanket,

And as long as it is primitive enough to see Paul Gauguin’s half-naked women.

December





December

Yearn Hong Choi

December is the gray sky, and darkened world.

We all stand in the corner of darkened world

With a melancholic sentiment.

The fallen leaves have left the street.

I can see you coming through the naked trees.

Snow will come, like a letter.

I want to go to the equator in December,

And want to forget December.

I want to forget the passing of a year in an African jungle,

Or I want to sleep in your green memories.

I want to be with those who can extend the month of December

A little longer.

So I skip the winter, and want to meet in early Spring, like a squirrel.

My friend who visits without a call is truly my friend:

He leaves wood at my fireplace.

In December, the moon rises with a genuine friendship.

You are weaving my wool jacket.

The fireplace burning wood makes my room cozy:

Water is boiling for tea in the room of a poet.

The cactus is blooming in red and white in his room.

Foggy Rain

Foggy Rain

 by Yearn Hong Choi

The trees, the birds, the doe, the man, the lake and the forest remain as hazy traces in a foggy rain on this scroll of ink painting.

That bashful first love, bleeding like ink through the Chinese paper; why does it glitter like a jewel in the winter forest?

The entire scene is indistinct, made something lovely in that all too gentle miracle

Hawaii

Hawaii

By Yearn Hong Choi

You need a swimsuit

and a surfboard

for a necessary condition of

happiness.

The sun turns your skin to copper,

and the waves turn your body to an acrobat.

Oh, the vast blue ocean is all yours.

The Hula dancers wave their hands and bodies

as the wind from the ocean dictates their bodies,

or the  wind dictates the palm trees and flowers

in the island.

You need a swimsuit

and a surfboard

for a sufficient condition of

happiness

in paradise on earth,

if your lover lives on that paradise.

The rainbows on the Waikiki Beach after a shower

mean the engagement of the young lovers

for their everlasting passionate love.

At Mt. Kumkang Village, North Korea

At Mt. Kumkang Village, North Korea

by Yearn Hong Choi

I was more comfortable in the darkness.

The black night was concealing

The poor farmer’s grimace,

His primitive tools,

His barren fields,

His undernourished children,

Barbed wire between us

And the soldiers’ tense eyes

Between us.

Fireflies flying in the darkness

Reminiscent of a mid-summer night’s dream,

Still alive in the mountain village.

And a falling star in the darkness

Magical, in an otherwise dark land.

I like the dark night

Blinding me to the melancholy of the village of my youth

At Mt. Diamond Village.