Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Poetry Year September 29

Again after Tang Poetry

Your fingers held the smallest cup, and your tasted the whitest whine
fragrant your glance by far, than the purest rice of winter harvest.
You dollop your words; that richer minds stumble to beggar's bowls.
The moon is the only face, who casts a softer shadow.
I toss the bottle into the water, my husband goes to your bed.


  1. Lillie,

    Your poems so often first fills me with wonder,
    the words flows so graciously,
    the flow is beauty by itselves,
    and their mystery,
    "what are she talking about now?"
    so I reread,
    and I reread again,
    and sometimes,
    I think I get a meaning,
    weather its yours or mine,
    really does not matter,
    because the gift of your words is mine alone.

    Thank you Lillie.

  2. Thank you. In the world of tang poetry, the bias is so much for men's experiences, that it is hard not to want to write something in the same referential mode, but directed to the experience of women.