Solace and Search

By Kuo-Pen Yung and 戈筆揚

You probably have never heard: 

such sorrowful stories, stunning epics, 

suffering loves, stupid logics.

You probably have never learned:

such sordid images, sour musics,

stingy feelings, strange wisdoms.

- Nova Saintsigh, All Fool Babble-n-Boast

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• Language: English
• Publisher: EHGBooks
• Release date: Sep 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781647848453

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Transplants from the Author’s Website

Invitation to Visit My Website

Introduction to My Website

Introductions by My Old Friends

Purpose of My Poetry Page

Here Are My Poems

I . LOOK

The White Cloud Is Gliding

The Last Flower

A Struggling Cockroach

Two Turkeys Are Fighting

II . LAUGH

An Official’s Laugh

My Laugh

Albert’s Law

Laugh My Pants Off

Email

Happy Surgery

III . LOVE

An Encounter

The Recollection

The Dimpled

Talk about Old Capital and Spouse

Letter to a Lucky Guy

Teen Girls and Jeans

What Is Love

Lost Love

Gift Fruit (I)

Gift Fruit (II)

IV . LIKE

To the Girls

The Sweet Earth

Some Spring Submissions

Dream Poem

The Poet’s Tree

Poetry Worm

V . THOUGHT

GORY GLORY

1.      The Hero

GORY GLORY

2.      The Statue

GORY GLORY

3.      What a Difference

GORY GLORY

4.      So? or Not So?

GORY GLORY

5.      After Words

Talk about the Wonder of Words

Talk about Doomsday

Bad and Good

Happiness and Human-evil

VI . HOPE

To My Coming Child

My Son Goes to School

To My Mentor Christine

To a Friendly Stranger

Can’t You Find Another Method?

For Children’s Sake

A Bag of Pomegranates to the Bride

A Basket of Peaches to the Bridegroom

Letter to the Editors (I)

Letter to the Editors (II)

A Hope to Heaven

A Hope for Humans

The Mighty Smiles

My Treasures Are On Sale

What Is Justice

Every Person Can Be a God *

When the Red Lilies Bloomed

A Poet’s Oh’s and Hopes

Little Alan on the Beach

War No More

VII . HATE

I Don’t Think We’ll Be Sorry

The Chief Reason Is I Hate

What a Frantic Fight

What a Fickle Leader

A Rascal Was Re-elected

Nine-in-One Election

Alas and Ha Ha

National Business

VIII . SIGH

To a Graceful Gal

From a Grateful Guy

Come for a Comparison

Falling Flower and Flowing Water

IX . PHILOSOPHY

Daydream

This is Not a Dream

Peony and Juniper

Heaven and Humans

Redesigned Zodiac Signs

Gods and People

Fathers and Children

Temple in My Heart

Natural Disaster and Human Massacre

Source of Turmoil

Rain and Human

Save Our World Save Our Lives

Righteous Heart and Good Deed

X .   FEELING

Trees in the Rain (I)

Trees in the Rain (II)

Summer Sun at Noon

First-Rain Comes in May

Farewells to General Yu and Yang

An Apology to Julie

Japanese Are Coming

I Hold a Seashell near My Ear

The 2008 Sichuan Earthquake

The 2008 Beijing Olympic Game

Winter Night

Spring Morning

His Name Is Ciccio

Wife of Crime

Poem on a Rainy Night

Poem on a Rainy Night

Apricot Blossom

Sour Grape and Sweet Grave

Why Do Not

XI . SEX

Do You Think I’d Like Her?

Do You Think I’d Let Her?

Stupid Marriage

Excessive Sex

XII . MYSELF

A Small Flower

The Strange Globe

Wandering Folk

In the Poet's Belly

Tree and Flower

Aloe Vera and Rotten Mouth

Jet Lag

Look Long and Talk Loud

Five Photos for the Queen *

A Verse-Cake

XIII . WONDER

The Starry Night

A Strange Bird

Leaders and People

Marriage and Sex

Happy Second Birthday of Second Life

Happy Centenarian Birthday

Let’s Look at the Ocean

Why We? How We？

XIV . SORROW

A Spring Outing

An Autumn Meeting

The Escape

The Sacrifice

After Words

My Soul Is Already Away

Do You Allow Me?

An Elegy for Aunty Yi-Ming

An Eulogy for Uncle Ze-ching

High as Mountains Deep as Oceans

Blue Sky and Yellow Flowers

The Pain of Dependent Parents

A Letter to Lesnor

Talk with a Friend (I)

Talk with a Friend (II)

A Mother-day Card

On Father’s Day to My Father

Great Grace and Bloody Blubbering

Forgive and Cultivate Wisdom

Meet My Life-Saver in Siesta

I Crashed My Car

We Lost Our Trees

Pick up Our Spears

What a Tragic Trade

A Man Left His Woman

A Woman Left Her Man

He and She

She and He

She and They

They and They

He and It

Mother and Daughter

Teaching

Love Seeking

Poor Dog

Precious Poems

An Autumn Sentiment

Flower Dream

Country and House

The Present of Pest

The Winner

Six Friends Break Prison

XV . SEARCH

Children Laughing

The Blue Mountain

Really Real

Seek Perfection

Keep Sweeping

Move High

Enjoy Fly

XVI . DELIGHT

Someone Is Whistling

The Crisp Morning Hurry

Success of the Third Plenary Session

Reconciliation

Carpe Diem

A Gain at Year’s End

The Enjoyment

The Thanks

EPILOGUE

Please Don’t Laugh

Let Us Rejoice

APPENDIX

If you like

Join Is a Joy

Giving Is a Blessing

Transplants from the Author’s Website

Invitation to Visit My Website

Only if we have the lot and luck

might gather under one roof

Welcome to my humble home

to read my precious poems

Are you another dumb nerd

or basically a poor boob

Too many boring versers

tried to bait and hook

Please first take a seat

then take a cup of tea

I like some cool coffee

or Coca-cola or Pepsi

How about a cold beer

besides some hot booze

Anything is hot and sweet

They can’t be readily brooded

Feel free to bring this poem back home

You can use it as a cup to serve drink

or as a vase to boost flowers to bloom

Introduction to My Website

This is a poetry website which is very queer

It is built by a poetaster who is very weird

You may read it with laughter and tears

Or may raid it with slashes and sneers

The owner of this corner is actually a Chinese nerd

He uses English words to write his Chinese work

Some are truly awkward and really absurd

Many are half-cooked and harshly-flavored

If you are willing to savor its strange sapor

please take a seat then read it with care

or take a taste then kick him with curse

Please visit often for changes and updates

Do not forget to bookmark this page

Thank you for your visits and tastes

08/06/2011

This is the author’s website for his English verses

www.PoetryPoem.com/kuopenyung

This is the author’s website for his Chinese verses

www.blog.udn.com/Y282686

Welcome to be their visitors

Introductions by My Old Friends

Hello!

World Folks!

You probably have never read:

such stylish stories, striking epics,

steaming loves, stupid logics.

You probably have never witnessed:

such splendid pictures, spiritual musics,

stimulating feelings,  strange wisdoms.

You probably will:

applaud your palms bruised, cry your hearts out,

grit your teeth broken, laugh your jaws off.

Simon Saintsigh,  Real Fool Babble-n-Boast

Please hurry to hug, dig, but not hurtle them.

They are prime and pricy with pride, though no yet prize.

Shirley Shakespirit, None Neo Tonic-n-Taste

Purpose of My Poetry Page

Welcome

Dear Madam and Sir

for your coming here

to be my reader and commenter

Many thanks

for not being a scorner

about my literary errors

and willing to endure my odor

However

let out not laughter

for anything here is absurd

It is a work of our ludicrous world

Moreover

conceal your tears

They can’t make things better

Blame all of those cruel evildoers

Is it right

Ever wondered why

Can’t the wrongness be rectified

Cannot things are foolish become wise

Let us all rise

Tell people what is right

Establish justice eradicate vice

Pervade peace and prosperity worldwide

There is another thing more fertile and vital

The pursuing for a higher and happier level of life

Here Are My Poems

Here are

My poems

Some are boiling

Some are cold

Some are boring

Some are bold

Some are bogus

Some are true

Some boast

Some rue

Some are sweet

Some are sour

Some spicy

Some sore

Some are colorful

Some are cool

Some sorrowful

Some stool

Sweeties And Smarties

THERE ARE MORE

08/06/2011

I . LOOK

Look with our eyes closely closed,

So we can see more clearly.

Look with our eyes loosely closed,

So we can’t be more crazy.

The White Cloud Is Gliding

Ah! What a wide white clouds is gliding!

Down the super high mountain!

Very, very slow,

very slow.

Like a colossal but calm cataract!

Or a great glacier!?

Like cotton?

Or snow?

"Why do you climb up?

And glide down?

Up so high!

Down so low?

"How can you

be so massive?

Magnificent!

So beautiful!

Peaceful also?"

"……………..

..................…"

"……………..

……………."     

Walking on the same way,

going to my factory,

for more than forty years,

almost every day.

This is the only time I’ve ever saw

such a colossal white clouds,

so quietly gliding down

the South Dawu Mountain,

in Taiwan’s southern region.

A rare opportunity.

A really spectacular view!

of a proper combination

of huge clouds and rising wind.

No camera at the time,

so photo it with a poem.

          *            *            *   

What a wonderful imagination

to combine a photo and a poem？

What a wonderful combination

to image a photo from a poem？

A picture is better than a thousand words.

A thousand words can be better than a picture.

Would you please try to savor this verse,

and see what kind of a picture can you produce?

This poem is translated into Chinese by the author:

Entitled 白雲下高山.

Printed on戈筆揚著, 撫惻與探索page 8

The Last Flower

A stem of red chrysanthemum

(perhaps it’s really a purple daisy)

which is comparatively more vivid,   

(maybe it’s merely not very fady)

has been once more selected

to adorn the green china vase,

once again closely placed

beside the blue lamp shade.

While its variant companions

(together for several days)

wither under the moonlight,

quiver in the cold breeze,

perish in the garbage dump,

decay with dirty waste;

outside the open window,

at a side of the dirt street.

The vase’s waist is long:

too long for this species, short and slight.   

And its mouth is wide:           

too wide for a single piece to keep upright.     

The flower has to stretch her leg,

to fasten her foot at one point of the vase’s belly.

She has to strain her spine,

to brace her body at one side of its neck.

Her back is against the lamp,

trunk terribly crooked.

Her head is away from the light,

eyes tightly closed.             

Is it because she dislikes the lamp,   

or fears the light?

Is it because she feels sad,

or feels tired?

She is half sleeping

when I first look at her.

She becomes half conscious

as I continue looking at her. 

She is frightened and awakened

when I try to straighten her.

She starts to gasp and tremble

as I blow and sniff at her.

When I stop looking at her,

once more she bows her head.

While I resume my work,

again she closes her eyes.

Once more I stop writing,

shake my head, softly sigh;

then I reach out a finger

to touch her chin, lift her head.

One, two, three, four, five.

She has five blossoms open:

three are larger, in full blooms;

two are smaller, somewhat broken.

One, two, three, four? five?

She has three little buds:

two with slightly red tips,

one but a small green stud.

I tilt the lampshade

to reveal her original color.

I take up the lamp stand,

to make the light angle proper.

I see her pistils are yellow,

still vividly golden bright,

but some are pale and wilting,

some are brown and dried.

I see her petals are red,

or a kind of purplish scarlet,

but some are pink and withering,

some are crumpled and violet.

Putting down the lamp,

pushing my paper aside,

I lean back, look in the room;

then look at the sky and outside.

All is quiet,

and all is silent.

Soon l feel cold,

also lonely and sullen.

My eyes return to the flower,

the flower now is also quiet.

Suddenly a flurry comes through the window!

She is startled -- shudders and shivers slightly.

One of the blooms shamefully lowers her eyes.

Another one gratefully bows her head.

Why do they so react?

One of the blooms forcefully turns her face.   

Another one loftily lifts her head.

They are hurting their necks!

The green bud pricks her ears.

She listens curiously.

She seems devout.

A red bud opens her eyes.

She stares furiously.

She seems defiant!

The third bud tilts her head.

She tilts … skeptically.

She looks hostile.

Another bloom cocks her eyes.

She cocks … scornfully.

She looks horrible!

One blossom faintly nods her head.

One feebly wobbles her head.

She tries to smile.

She tries to smirk.

One crazily shakes her head.

Two quirkily jerk their heads.

Some, snort.

Some, snicker.

Two straighten up to laugh!

I hear some one loudly sign.

Some bow their heads to weep.

One raises her fists to cry!         

They all weep and laugh.

All laugh and cry.

They all scream and laugh!

All cry and cry!!!

This poem is translated into Chinese by the author:

Entitled 殘 花.

Printed on戈筆揚著, 撫惻與探索page 10

A Struggling Cockroach

I saw a rather big cockroach

in a very busy restroom,

lying with its legs in the air

on the filthy floor.

It strived and struggled,

exerted, endeavored,

but couldn’t get up

or turn over.

I saw it strive there

in the morning,

exert there

at noon.

Still struggling!

In the evening!

When I last went

to that room.

Translated into Chinese by the author:

Entitled 掙扎的蟑螂.

Printed on戈筆揚著, 撫惻與探索page 14

Two Turkeys Are Fighting

Two turkeys are fighting at roadside.

Many people are passing by.

Some people stop to watch them.

No one wants to stop them.

They thrust up their snoods and beaks,

strain their necks and legs.

They wag their heads in even beats,

move their feet in rapid steps.

They chirp and step.

They wag and snap.

One catches the other’s caruncle head,

twists him with all his might,

makes his head awry.

The other one shakes him off,

pecks his enemy madly,

seals his one-side eye.

More people stop to watch.

More people still pass by.

One snaps the other’s flap snood,

presses his head low,

twists his neck crooked.

The other pulls himself away,

counter-attacks furiously,

tears open his wattle throat.

Many people frown their brows.

Many watch with much delight.

Now they are tired. 

So they rest a while.

Flaunt their feathers.

Circle to show might.

Once more they face each other

and curse with gobbles.

Once again they charge

and engage to fight.

They snap and wag.

They snatch and drag.

One flaps his wings helplessly

and gasps with closed eyes.

One pushes the other comically

and toddles with dizzy head.

Blood on their beaks,

blood on their heads,

blood on their backs,

blood on their necks.

Blood on the ground,

spattered around.

Feathers on the ground,

flying around.

Still they bite.

Further they fight.

Some people still come,

stick their heads to look.

Some people back out,

wave hands and go.

They turn.

They lurch.

They step.

They stagger.

They chirp.

They flap.

They gobble.

They gasp.

More people pass.

No one stops.

All observers

shake heads and disperse.

Two fighters

cock heads and stare ….

Translated into Chinese by the author:

Entitled 兩隻火雞在路旁鬪.

Printed on戈筆揚著, 撫惻與探索page 15

II . LAUGH

Laughing

can be an:

enjoyable thing,

regrettable thing,

horrible thing,

laughable thing.

Translated into Chinese by the author:

Entitled: 笑.

Printed on戈筆揚著, 撫惻與探索page 18

An Official’s Laugh

For those who are above me,

for my superiors,

likewise I should be

a good inferior.         

Maybe I should

more grudgelessly offer.

Mostly I would

further shamelessly flatter.

I can’t know whether

they like or dislike it.

I don’t care how I am

disgusted -- detest it!

I’d follow the manner

without any honor.

I’d pursue my purpose

with enormous effort.

It’s because I also desire authority,

I too love and require money.

I need them to nurture my mistresses,

to win honor to my family.

That’s the only way I can approach,

then to snatch and catch them;

yet the only way I can firmly hold,

then freely handle them!

I’d honor my bosses as gods,

be subservient as a dog or servant;

hold out my highest homage,

submit my servilest service.

Wag my tail to entice their glance.

Roll on my back to get their praise and pats.

Kiss their hands to beg for errands.

Bring them slippers to earn bones and scraps. 

Let them pull me by my ears,

sometimes spit in my face.

Let them hit me on the head,

or kick me in the ass!

Hear them talk nonsense.

Watch them commit sins.

Listen to their orders through their noses.

Read their directions by their chins.

Yes, sir.

You’re right.

You’re all mighty.

You’re all wise!

Yes, sir.

I’ll do it right,

with much delight,

with all my might!

However, they’re not gods.

Anyway, they’re still men.

It’s not that they’re big so they’re divine.

The bigger they are, the more inhuman!

They too are dogs.

They too are servants.

Only they belong to some bigger bosses,

obliged to attend some meaner errands.

They’d wash their masters’ pots,

wash their mistresses’ lingerie;

blink their eyes, sniff their noses,

and declare, ‘They’re lovely!’

They’d lick their masters’ feet,

lick their mistresses’ seats;

cock their heads, smack their lips,

and proclaim, ‘They are great!’

Every day after those plays:

those ironic, bitter plays;

I the actor, also the spectator,

trudge back, tired and late.

My heart is mortally sick,

body is limply weak.

My belly constricts with nausea,

head splits with ache.

Feebly I clamber onto my big bed,

still wearing my shoes and hat,

lie there for quite a long time,

utterly silent and