The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans
By Jeremy Cheng
阳光像一个精湛艺术家
他的光芒照耀在你的脸上
制作出一副世界独一无二金我一人可观的绝世美画
多么想要抱着你一起入睡，听着你呼吸。 安稳入睡。
起床后第一眼
你就在我的身边。
Sun is a professional artist.
His light shines on your face
creates a unique second-to-none painting,
and it is only for me.
How I want to sleep beside you,
listen to you breathe and sleep comfortably.
The first eye after getting up,
you next to me.
Editor: Holden Hartle
By: Guest Blogger “J”
As I lay there
staring up at the ceiling,
thinking of you,
I realized something…
You are everything that I want,
everything I need,
everything I see,
everything I do,
and at the very same time,
You are
nothing that I want,
nothing that I need,
nothing that I see,
nothing that I do.
What’s the point of all this?
You’ll just leave.
Like you do every time.
Off to have your fun,
leaving me here,
alone with my thoughts,
staring holes in the ceiling,
thinking of you…
Editor: Makena Behnke
By Poet Blogger Jeremy Cheng
I used to hate so much.
Because she brought me a huge pain.
She left me and left me alone.
My best friend left and stayed with her.
I returned alone.
When hearing friends encourage, I noticed that many people love me.
I started finding new ways to extricate from the predicament:
Keep exploring, keep learning, keep exercising my new hobby.
Those actions can achieve the heart and the body comfort when letting the mind gain
extrication.
Editor: Makena Behnke
By Leo “Little Rabbit” Milmet
People appreciate us as pieces of fine art.
They praise the beauty of our metallic shine and the vividity of our bright and varying colors.
We are ginormous and multicolored;
though a man of no artistry whatsoever may say we should be small and gray,
most love us for what we are.
We are inspired by the benevolent Irish spirit Pooka.
We were brought forth by the brilliant, visionary artists Tony and Karen Barone.
One of us, a purple one, was named Little Rabbit, a nickname given to this poet by his dear, loving grandmother.
We live on Highway 111 by the Atrium, for all to see, interact with, and appreciate.
What are we?
Editor: Makena Behnke
By James Zheng, First-time Poet Musing on Heroism
Those brilliant epics we read depict
A thousand invincible images
Of our hero’s loneliness and supremacy,
Making this so-called hero receive homage.
With his solitary expression
And his firm, mighty, absolute strength,
No one sees his depression beneath the surface.
This reality, the idealistic standard of how our heroes should act,
will never change.
We call them heroes because of their immense capabilities, but in calling them
Heroes, we forget to call them humans as well.
If a hero is hesitant, if he is fettered and burdened with useless thoughts of
Family, friends, love; these are weaknesses;
they are the things he must guard in his heart.
What must be guarded is weakness.
In order to be king, he must freeze his heart and soul;
he must become cold.
“I hold my sword, but I can’t embrace you.
When I drop my sword, I can’t protect you.”*
Editor: Leo Milmet
*from the anime Bleach
By Translator and Blogger James Zheng
So, I was browsing on a Chinese video sharing website called Bilibili (which is similar to Youtube), and then I found this amazing poem among the comments while I was watching a well-made AMV (anime music video). Shockingly, this poem was written by a normal anime reviewer. The translation is by me.
By Scattered Sakura (Screen name)
Rain brings the flavor of the sky;
the ocean carries the atmosphere of the abyss;
cicadas of late summer deliver their taunts to human beings;
the intolerable pain of the spine oppresses the fragile nerves.
Those cowards who had never been to the battlefield roared presumptuously.
They were wishing to tear apart the prey,
while they remained endlessly hateful about the cloudy sky,
and the deadly calm of the Jordanian river in the deep winter.
Twisted with hundreds of emotions and sentiments, the battlefield led to the Crows’ bloodthirst.
The stinky wind came from the sea;
the heavy rain brought extremely frozen water,
And the furiously raging flame was extinguished.
No redemption, no destruction, only obedience can lead to survival.
Sweat flowed down the girl’s smooth body,
withered leaves sprinkled with blood and tears.
The swan cut across the sky,
full of loneliness and desolation–caged birds pray for a storm full of life.
However, in front of the higher herdsmen,
we can only be captive lambs, fearing death, while hoping that the glory of victory spreads over the earth before dawn.
Before I shoot off to tell you how extraordinary this poem is, I must tell you that there is a slight difference between Chinese and American figurative and literal meanings, as well as writing styles. Because of the translation, there might be some places in the poem that may slightly confuse you.
What is really fascinating about this entire poem is the way it depicts a vivid image to interpret the significant term, “the weak.” The word choice actually conveys to me an oppressive atmosphere where one force overcomes another.
Editor: Luke Langlois
A submission by Poet-Blogger Jeremy Cheng
Jeremy submitted the following poem to “Rattle’s” Instagram-Poet Competition.
By Leo Milmet
the clock struck midnight.
he was alone on the balcony.
all the people who had disturbed the peace
were long gone.
and there was peace.
quiet.
the contrasting lights of the moonlight and his cigarette
drew more of his attention than any care in the world.
it was midnight on a breezy summer night,
and he sat, contemplating his life.
to his surprise, he felt
joy.
Editor: Holden Hartle
By Leo Milmet
in the dark
i see the light.
you.
you’re the light.
you’re my flashlight
in the constant power outage of life.
sometimes the light you shine is white and bright, and
almost appears to
restore the power.
other times it’s just a glimmer of light,
no larger than a rosebud,
a soft petal of light
with a narrow focus, and not much flood.
that’s okay.
i don’t trip and fall in the dark, and i know that’s
got something to do with you.
Editor: Luke Langlois
By Jeremy Cheng, Poet Extraordinaire
I am a kite;
You are a kite holder.
You release the string and let me fly higher.
The wind blows;
I enjoy the breeze.
Suddenly, a strong wind comes from behind,
And you, afraid the string will break,
Pull the string back and make sure that I will not fly away.
Every time you support me,
I hope the string will not break
Because I love the feeling of you holding on.
Editor: Leo Milmet