10/11/2016

Song of Myself: A Korean-American Life by Yearn Hong Choi




Song of Myself: A Korean-American Life by Yearn Hong Choi, Poetic Matrix Press, 2010

By Ame Ai

 

Yearn Hong Choi’s autobiography Song of Myself: A Korean-American Life is a memoir that details an inscrutable Korean-American immigrant life. In 1968, Mr. Choi immigrated to the United States of America, specifically to Seattle, Washington to taste adventure. In 2010, Mr. Choi is retired after a long teaching and government careers in the United States of America and Korea. He is a resident of Fairfax Station in Virginia and now has the optional title of Dr. Choi since he has earned his PhD from Indiana University.

 

When he first arrived, he observed and breathed the time of the Civil Rights Movement, Women’s Movement, Sexual Revolution, and Beatlemania with $70 in his pocket. He was lucky to receive support from a young couple to whom he felt indebted to for life. He worked several odd jobs, with each new job increasing his prestige. Eventually, he found himself working for the government with a secret clearance and a lot of knowledge about nuclear waste. Ellen Olmstead of Montgomery University had this to say about Dr. Choi: "Choi lived, studied, and worked in the Pacific Northwest, the Midwest, the Deep South, and the nation's capital over four decades, while the U.S. was in the throes of the civil rights, anti-war, anti-nuclear, and environmental movements. As activist poet and political scientist, he problematizes the simple binaries of black and white and of American and Asian."

 

As an immigrant, he traveled back and from between South Korea and America, spending the last ten years of his teaching career in South Korea when his mother was aging in Parkinson’s disease. It is this back-and-forth movement that many American immigrants can relate to, whether they are Hispanic, Black, or White. No matter where immigrants come from, they all have a lifetime feeling of intransigency and being between worlds with one foot in each.

 

Dr. Choi was lucky to come from a family that encouraged artistic expression, such as poetry. Throughout his travels as a poet he has come across the famous Allen Ginsberg, Andrei Voznesensky (Russian poet), and Reed Whittemore, as well as African-American poets Gwendolyn Brooks and E. Ethelbert Miller. He also met Eudora Welty. He read his poems at the US Library of Congress Library in April 1994 as the first Korean poet and in January 2003 for the centennial commemoration of the Korean immigration to the Hawaii sugar plantation. 

 

Dr. Choi has written Moon of New York (2008). He also helped compile Surfacing Sadness: A Centennial Korean-American Literature 1903-2003 (2003), Fragrance of Poetry: Korean-American Literature (2005), and An Empty House: Korean-American Poetry (2008). He has always cared much about the Korean-American community and supported compilations by Korean-American poets in order to give them a chance to publish their poetry and get their voices into the world. 

 

His life is a life that illustrates that one reaps what he sows. If there is such a thing as good karma, Dr. Choi certainly has it. One might also think of the movie Pay It Forward (2001) with Helen Hunt, Kevin Spacey, and Haley Joel Osment. He kept the memories of the young couple he met in Seattle and has since lived a giving life where he has helped other writers get on their feet. It should come as no surprise that he has much support.

 

Even though he is already a prolific writer, this is his masterpiece book, the one to top all others. I imagine that writing this book has been scratched off of Mr. Choi’s bucket list of things to do before dying, with a sense of accomplishment. To anyone who reads his book, I also imagine that the readers hope that he finds the young couple he met in Seattle before it is too late so that they can see how he “paid it forward.” We should all be blessed that Mr. Choi has brought his voice into the fold of American immigrant true life stories. His life has further enriched America’s written collection of immigrant life.

 

 

Ame Ai is a poet and writer in the Washington DC area. She has published four poetry books-- Love, Not Love( 2008).  Valley of the Mind’s Shadow (2009), Lyrics and Verses (2009), andFringe and Frivolity (2010).

 

 

 

 

4/26/2016

Poet’s Daughter



Poet’s Daughter

 

Poet’s daughter brought a gift of five pebbles

from her Ireland trip to her father.

 

It was the best gift to her inland dad

who sees the beauty in the pebbles formed from the crashing waves on the sea shore.

 

The pebbles are losing the seawater in his study,

but they will be good companions to the poet

who comfort his sea fever.

 

Anyway, they are the expression of daughter’s love of her dad.

4/05/2016

Labyrinth




Labyrinth

 

1.

 

Moslem fight and kill each other along the complex ethnic and religious lines in darkness.

Many left the war torn country, Iraq and Syria, to European nations and sought refuge status.

---What is going on in the Middle East?

---Where was their Spring?

---Why they are seeking asylum in neighboring Moslem countries?

---Why some Moslem nations are just onlookers of the war?

The USA and Russia are bombing ISIS bases, and Kurds are fighting ISIS regime, but they are also connected to Iran and Turkey in turmoil.

Sunni and Shiite, and Yazidis, and more ethnic and religiousgroups( I don’t know them all) engage in all wars from all frontsand back courts.

More men and foreigners are beheaded by ISIS in front of the video in the post-2oth century.

Girls and women are becoming sex slaves of the ISIS warriors.

 

2.

 

Who started this labyrinth of the Middle East?

Who started Spring of Middle East?

George Bush and his stupid men started a war without a cause

And killed Saddam Hussein.  

The delicate Middle East was struck and shaken by the US intervention.

All Middle East is now one dangerous quagmire. 

 

3.

 

Now, the US is a war field between FBI and Apple.

The US is already a war torn country, its economy has been devastated, 

Endlessly plunging into the bottom of labyrinth,

Now between the national security and privacy.

 

---Yearn Hong Choi

3/29/2016

The South Col




The South Col

 

Cold and icy winds blowing from Nepal to Tibet threatened all living things on the sharp-edged ridge 

To the point of complete extinction of living organisms between Mt. Everest and Lhotse.

The winds reminded me of clashing metal over the snow and ice-covered rocks.

The winds hammered, bit and scratched my body and soul; a monster’s hammer, power, claw and teeth.

I climbed for more than 12 hours from the third camp to South Col, the fourth and final camp site that almost reached the Heavens 

Two veteran Sherpas pitched a couple of tents for my shelter and theirs, the mission nearly impossible.

But they did pitch the tents on the narrow ledges, ready to be blown out by the powerful gust of the wind.

They were peaceful, gentle and kind people, born and raised in the mountain village 6500 meters above sea level. I was impressed by their quietness and their perseverance under such harsh conditions.

They staked a piece of cloth as a flag outside the tent, the Buddhist Scriptures protecting our lives.

However, inside the tent, I could not take rest, and I could not eat or drink. My lips were swollen like a balloon.

My consciousness in thin air was dim, fading away. I tried to remember the date I left the family and the third camp. I tried to remember all the flags containing the Buddhist scriptures over the bridges and mountain paths.

My frozen blankets covered my frozen soul and body.

 No difference between a frozen fish and a frozen man.

No way of knowing of life and death in the South Col.

Mt. Everest means a long journey over the treacherous frozen mountain top against the winds of destruction.

I should be frozen first, and hopefully be awakened to life one second away from death, to the final destination, Everest.

 

----Yearn Hong Choi


Aurora Borealis




Aurora Borealis

 

My daughter visited Norway in order to see the Northern Lights,

or Aurora Borealis, as I had learned to call them.

Oh, aurora. I know aurora.

In high school,

I learned of the mysterious colored lights that stream across the night skies at higher altitude.

Then, I used aurora often in my poetry for mysterious lights.

Aurora sounds a poetic word. I love that word.

Now, my daughter called it Northern Lights.

The northern lights display colors depending on

how deeply solar winds penetrate the atmosphere and

whether they collide with oxygen or nitrogen molecules.

Blue auroras are displayed 

when particles collide with nitrogen molecules low in the atmosphere.

Green auroras are when oxygen molecules are struck up to 350 miles

above the Earth’s surface.

Red auroras are when particles collide with oxygen molecules

more than 150 miles above Earth.

Science has made the mysterious light no longer mysterious,

but I still prefer the myth of 

the Labrador native people’s torches lighting a pathway to heaven for fallen warriors.

 

---Yearn Hong Choi


3/22/2016

Ji Hae Park, The Violinist




Ji Hae Park,  The Violinist

 

A Korean girl born in Germany, 

raised by a violinist, her mother

Praying ceaselessly to Father in Heaven

For a dream for her little girl

One day to become a good violinist

 

Fighting the loneliness and growing pain

At the end, one fateful day,

She became the top violinist in the world.

Accepting the gift of Heaven graciously

And yet,

She asked guidance for more maturity

Acceptable to His sight.

 

Her testimony in Korean touched the heart of a poet

Among many in the large sanctuary of the Korean Central Presbyterian Church

So fitting it was

Her word, each word, from her heart

Ascended to become a bright star in the sky of the Spring night

 

The music from her violin

From Vivaldi to Handel,

From Amazing Grace to her words

The mysteriously beautiful flowers in the garden of blossoms adorned 

 

----Yearn Hong Choi