88 Poems By Cho: A Sojourn of Thoughts and Stories

By John Cho

A collection of poems that cover a dazzling range of topics, 88 Poems by Cho addresses observations of everyday life, fictional stories in an historical context, imaginary worlds, and commentaries on society. While part of the collection deals with Asian or Asian-American characters, readers from all walks of life will enjoy these honest and thought-provoking glimpses at life as seen through the author’s eyes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543928457

Book preview

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7 Days in Paris

Narrow, uni-directional roads,

Less than 3 feet wide sidewalks,

Compare that to the wide boulevards

Emanating French monarchial power

In urban design.

Day or night, along the Seine River,

An artist patiently sketches his work,

Hawkers sell green bottled beers and 1 Euro water,

People stroll or scurry along engaged in conversation

Amidst a backdrop of party boat music and odors.

Icon of Paris, the Eiffel Tower,

Ten armed police check visitors’ bags,

Night lights transition the tower from blue to red to sparkling,

Irish soccer fans dress in green with yellow trim

While the Turks brandish homeland flags in victory.

Neighborhood park with colored playground equipment,

A barefoot girl of 4 declares independence from the Queen Mother,

While a father and son share a ping pong game,

Urban kids pet farm animals brought in,

People rest on a small sea of grass.

The Louvre, an art collection extraordinaire,

A Mona Lisa surrounded by tourists and shielded by glass

She smiles anyway,

From the headless Winged Victory to a carved African herbivore,

Contrasts abound like the McDonald’s near the exit.

Cathedral of Notre Dame in Reims,

Guardian gargoyles perched and staring down,

The Head Holder cradles his head in the east tympanum,

Inside, one can see stained glass and the Joan of Arc statue,

French kings were coronated here, I bought a memorial coin.

The Michelin lunch close to the Seine,

Petite portions to whet one’s appetite,

Attentive servers to treat us like royalty,

Things in 3’s, desserts, hours, etc.

Nice ambience overlooking a park.

The Catacombs, resting place for 6 million,

Descend into the Parisian underground carved of limestone,

Stacks of femur bones with rolls of skulls held by concrete,

Emblazoned t-shirts, Remain calm, because we will all die,

Why do people pay to see this?

Versailles, King Louis XIV lived here,

From hunting lodge it evolved to the abode of the Sun Emperor,

Royal opulence flaunted with sculptures, portraits, and ceiling paintings

The tourists are in an assembly mode

Meaning keep moving along to the No Return exit.

Palais de Tokyo, museum of contemporary art

Like the collapsed wall of broken bricks and pails to catch dripping water

Or the panty hose stretched as decor for the coffee shop,

Or the video of an angry man yanking on a cord,

Good art needs some emotional content.

People of Paris, a kaleidoscope of humanity,

Smoking women, as in cigarettes

Panhandlers that look average or not homeless,

Machined gun soldiers, always in trios,

And Singaporeans on work assignment, but don’t speak French.

Images to the airport departure,

A stretch of South Asian businesses,

Syrian women on the freeway island dividers,

A store front with only 2 English words, Sex Store,

Finally, the grateful Uber driver when I tipped.

8 Elements of Happiness

What makes us happy?

Some prefer the who,

If happiness is a compound,

Then it is made up of elements

Like in high school chemistry,

Try my eight which are not prioritized.

Number 1 could be

Religion as a way to see the world,

Shouldering a wrapped box

Of thoughts to believe in,

I have no religion, shouted the atheist man,

Fool, that is your religion, replied the anointed one.

Number 2 could be

People like the ones we interact with,

Good are the ones we like,

Bad are the ones we avoid,

Social creatures needing to bond,

The last man on earth would kill himself.

Number 3 could be

Work or what we do,

It defines us in multiple ways,

Dress, language, contacts, routines,

Forty hours or more every week,

Hey, don’t forget your paycheck.

Number 4 could be

Money spent to achieve

A comfortable level of consumption,

From a dinner in a fancy restaurant

To the plebian fast food

Or the car that projects you.

Number 5 could be

Values which matter to us,

Pause and think,

Why do our values differ?

What you care so much about,

Others don’t even give an F.

Number 6 could be

Health which is better than being sick,

Another thing just expected to be

Until it swims away while we drown,

Call the lifeguard with the binoculars

Who watches while we wave.

Number 7 could be

Activities that occupy us,

Whether imposed or by free volition,

They all consume time,

Just like sand falling

In the inverted hourglass.

Number 8 could be

Expressions as in communication mode

To channel thoughts and feelings

To others or perhaps one’s self,

Do they want to understand?

Well, how about you?

The 8 Elements of Happiness,

They weave and dance,

Disparate and integrated,

Conjoined as a mixture

Of magnificent magnitude

In an intoxicant brew of delusions.

9 Stockade Gully

This is the lost poem,

Putting together my 88 poems,

This one had disappeared,

Searching without success through

Documents, composition books and Drive,

So now the lost poem becomes

The last poem.

Jiuzhaigou, the Chinese call it,

Equivalent to our Yosemite

In that thousands visit per day,

Different in that no private

Cars are driven in,

People line up for buses

Which deposit them along

Various stops in the gully.

Shuzheng Waterfall,

A cascade of water spills

Across the level top

About 50 feet high,

Not like the huge ones

At Niagara in New York

Or the Victoria in Zimbabwe,

This one is almost human scale.

Clouds that skirt the mountains,

It is in the summertime,

My seasonal escape period from

Work as a community college instructor,

It deals with the elevation

About 6 thousand to 14 thousand feet,

If the heavens are shrouded in clouds,

Then you can imagine being in proximity.

In the translucent water,

You can see the toppled logs

Submerged just below the surface,

Closer to the shore,

The rocks are indiscernible as

Being above or below water,

The telltale sign would be

The ripple I see in my photograph.

The warning sign with the

Exclamation mark inside a

Yellow triangle telling people

Do not leave the path

Of the wooden plank walkway,

The message is written in 2

Other languages besides English,

Chinese and Tibetan.

Mirror Lake

Is just like its namesake,

The lake reflects the mountains

Or they are kind of small,

The hills that abut its shores,

My proof is only this,

I flipped my picture upside down,

My weak eyes could not distinguish.

Finally, the most amazing part

Was the color of a pond,

I would only be able to describe it

As blue green but super clear,

For the rocks are totally visible,

I have never seen that before,

Maybe I never will again

Unless I choose to return to Jiuzhaigou.

A Question?

A consortium of three

Martial artists with

Over 100 years of

Experience tethered

Through study,

Instruction,

And experimentation.

So a question posed,

When you expire?

How much of your

Knowledge goes

To the grave or urn?

Meaning any or no

Worthwhile disciple.

One master’s retort,

No one has appeared

To absorb sponge like

Or by osmosis

All my wisdom and skill,

I am willing to teach,

Where are the students?

Master #2 raised his hand,

Spread the five fingers

Not of death like

In the 1970’s kung-fu film,

But demonstratively

To represent different

Students know portions.

Master #3 had no reply,

Blurting out

Nonsensical trivia

About this and that,

Can you not answer

A direct question in

Mathematical purity?

Well, maybe knowledge

Is both concrete and abstract,

Changing like a chameleon

Hiding amongst the leaves

Which change in colour,

That’s an English spelling

To the time of the season.

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