Robbing the Tomb
The year was bad, the crops were burnt,
The dragon turned his back,
The River Wei was almost dry
The earth was brown, and cracked,
The peasant army, risen up
Destroyed the House of Chin,
Set fire to all their palaces,
Their army turned and ran.
But we were left with nothing since
The death of Chin Shi Huang,
That first and greatest Emperor
Who'd ruled across the land,
He lay within his tomb up there
Hid deep within Mount Li,
And left us all with nothing but
A distant memory.
So Wang and Tong, my neighbours
With both Zheng and Shao along,
Had thought about the riches that
Lay underneath the ground,
They'd murdered all the builders and
The architects, the slaves,
So no-one could reveal the plans
Of Chin Shi Huang-ti's grave.
The ruling class were weak, had fled,
We thought this was our chance,
Why shouldn't we be rich, we thought,
We'd fought with sword and lance,
We'd long defended Chin Shi Huang
So now we should be paid,
The riches of the tomb lay there
Down where his corpse was laid.
'You know the penalty for this, '
Said Shao, 'we'll lose our heads,
If anyone should get to hear
That we've disturbed the dead.'
'We're going to die soon anyway, '
Croaked Zheng, 'you'd rather starve?
I'd risk my head for just one ring...'
The rest of us just laughed.
'What if his ghost has roamed abroad
To rage and roar at us?
Down in that ghostly sepulchre
Where he was laid in trust? '
'No man survived to see beneath
Those workings that were done,
They buried all his concubines
And workmen, every one! '
'I'd face a thousand ghosts, ' said Tong,
'A ghost can't do you harm,
'I hope you're sure of that, ' said Wang,
Who blanched in his alarm.
'Of course they can't, we'll get to work
The moon is full tonight,
We'll tunnel down, lie low by day,
Work while the moon is bright! '
It took us just a week to find
The steps to take us in,
The air was musty, smelt of death
The death knell of the Chin.
Then Shao had lit a candle, and
Cried out, a note of fear,
We stood and stared agape at horses,
And each charioteer.
And lines of archers, infantry,
That glared us in the gloom,
A whole division of the Chin
Had filled that darkened room,
But soldiers, made of pottery,
They stood as if in death,
To wait for Chin Shi Huang to rise,
To take a mortal breath.
We made our way between the rows
An army from the past,
And every face was different there,
A grim, unsmiling mask,
There must have been a thousand, or
Ten thousand, who could tell,
The army of an Emperor to
Breach the gates of hell!
Eventually we found a way
To tunnel through the walls,
Some passages led out of there
Deep down into the halls,
Where concubines were lain, asleep,
The beauties of the land,
But when Shao touched a tender cheek
The flesh was yellow sand.
So down, and deeper down we went,
The tomb must lie below,
We had no thought for safety, we
Just wandered anyhow,
And then a twang had sounded, as
A bolt took cousin Zheng,
Straight through the skull, the crossbow
That he'd tripped, was meant for him.
He died before he hit the floor,
Then other bolts flew yet,
The traps for plunderers like us
The Emperor had set,
One took Shao, entered at the throat
And pinned him to the wall,
His eyes had glazed, and then he died,
He couldn't even fall.
That left just me and Tong and Wang,
To crawl along the floor,
We came to heavy cedar doors
We knew we'd found the core,
The pictographs said 'Don't come in,
Or you will feel the curse,
Of Emperor Chin Shi Huang, your sin
Will drive your pauper's hearse! '
Tong kicked the door in with his boot,
Then ducked, and fell instead,
A blade came snaking to the floor
And Tong had lost his head!
It rolled unknowing down a stair
And landed, staring up,
From diamonds, rubies, sapphires,
And gem encrusted cups.
The coffin was magnificent,
A massive copper sheath,
And round about, such artefacts
That gleamed, beyond belief,
Wang couldn't stop, he crawled right down
And over Tong's dead form,
I screamed a warning, turned and ran,
And cursed that I'd been born!
I never saw Wang Bin again,
I made my way outside,
I slunk back home and hid for weeks,
I'd lost face, and my pride!
As Wang went down those chamber steps
I just wished that I'd hid,
For as Wang reached the jewels, I saw
The coffin raise its lid!
15 January 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Family History
My father left when I was one,
Or maybe two - I don't recall,
I have no memory of him now,
No memory then, now none at all.
It didn't seem important then
I had my mother, she had me,
And Uncle George would call each day,
Call by most nights, and stay for tea.
I wasn't even curious,
My world was perfect as it was,
We lived beside a village green
And travelled by the village bus.
Our house was large, a mansion set
In Parklands, much too large for us,
Whole wings were closed and boarded in,
My mother said, 'it makes less fuss! '
It wasn't 'til I went to school
That doubts arose about my kin,
The boys would taunt and tease me there,
Would comment on my yellow skin.
They called me 'Squinty' for my eyes,
They looked so different then, to them,
My hair was black and very straight:
'You'll never make an Englishman! '
I asked my mother why I looked
So different, just like chalk and cheese,
She smiled and held me close to her,
And said: 'Your father was Chinese! '
'I met him through your Uncle George,
They served together in some war,
He charmed me once, but then he left,
Went off to fight for Chiang-Kai-shek.'
'I thought that he'd return one day
But truth to tell, he never did,
I heard that he'd been killed before
The White Army had turned and fled.'
She mentioned words I'd never heard
'Formosa', 'Tao' and 'Mao Zedong',
'Long March', 'Red Army', words that I
Remembered when no longer young.
I grew determined then to seek
The truth behind my history,
To find my father, where he lay,
Tear back the shroud of mystery.
'Don't do it, son, ' said Uncle George,
'Leave sleeping dogs to sleep the day,
For once you rouse them, sleeping dogs
Will never cease to bark and bay.'
'He's right, ' my mother said, her mouth
Was set, and she looked awful grim,
'You'll bring the terrors of the night
Down on us, if you look for him! '
My mind was set, I disagreed,
With all the folly of the young,
I thought that I could spend my need
And so made plans to see Taiwan.
I only got as far as London,
There I went to the G.R.O.,
Asked for the Births and Deaths they kept
To settle the questions I should know.
But when the book was placed before me
Words - they swam before my eyes,
The father stated at my birth
Was George Hubertus Syndon Wise!
I faltered then, and nearly fell
My heart it plunged to the floor, and then,
The mother plainly written there
Was one they called Wang Shu Qian.
My legs were weak, I barely stood,
My father was an Englishman,
I took a breath and walked the street...
My mother, a daughter of the Han.
I went back home to the mansion then
Ignored my mother upon the stairs,
Headed right up to the West Wing floor
They had boarded and banned me from, for years.
Tore the boards from the door and entered,
Thought I would find just cobwebs there,
But saw bright lights, and heard soft music,
A woman sat in an old wing chair.
I knew, the moment those almond eyes
Met mine, I looked on my mother then,
The tears ran down from her high cheek bones
To stain her dress, Wang Shu Qian.
She'd lived forever behind these doors
All boarded in for a secret's sake,
And George had been with her, now and then
My father, living his life - a fake!
But all about there were artifacts,
Screens and parchments and vellum scripts,
Priceless furniture, paintings, figures,
Dragons, pearls, and the odd Phoenix.
George came stumbling up the stairs
His face dead white when he saw me there,
'My boy... I told you...' he said, then stopped
As grey ran worrying through his hair.
The hoard was that from a Chinese palace,
Wang Shu Qian was a keeper there,
They'd fled the rape of the communists
Taken their baggage with Chiang Kai shek.
'When things are settled we'll give it back, '
My mother told me in Pu Tong Hua,
George translated her every sentence,
Love shone out from his eyes for her.
'Her name is top of their wanted list,
They hired assassins to search for her,
We thought it best to concoct those lies
To protect you from the world out there.'
My sister took on the role of mother,
You were only a baby then,
While Shu Qian despaired to hold you,
Show you love as her only son.
The hoard has since been returned to China,
Both my mothers live openly now,
I've been taking a course in language
Coming to grips with Pu Tong Hua.
My family history seems complete,
I know as much as I need to know,
The dogs are sleeping, skeletons rest
And I won't disturb their sleep - No How!
(Note: The Chinese pronounce Chiang Kai shek
as Jiang kuh sher.
Pu Tong Hua = Pu Tong Hwa = Beijing Dialect.
Wang Shu Qian = Wong Shoe Chee-en) .
25 December 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Girl in the Mirror
I was staying in the village
That was known as Banzhushan,
In the mountains, in the Province
That the Chinese call Hunan,
It was perched atop the mountain
You could reach, and touch the sky,
But there were no single women,
And the men up there were shy.
They were poor, could offer nothing
To entice a willing bride,
They earned little from their labours,
And their houses, poor inside,
So the girls would leave to travel
Down the mountain to the plain,
Where they'd find a richer husband
Than the farmer, sowing grain.
So the men would send out raiders
To the outskirts of the towns,
And they'd kidnap straying peasants,
All the women that they found,
And they'd target younger widows
Who would not put up a fight,
Then would carry them to Banzhushan
Protected by the night.
I had met a village elder
By the name of Zhang Fan Cheng,
He was ancient, a magician,
One the Chinese call yāorén,
He invited me to dinner,
It was simple, shoots and rice,
He was dignified and courteous,
But caught me by surprise.
In the further room, a mirror
Stood at length, both straight and tall,
The frame was wrought in silver
And it leant against the wall,
He showed it to me proudly
Then asked how much would I pay?
For just 5,000 R.M.B.
He'd sell it me, today!
I reached out to feel the silver,
Was it fake or was it real?
He sensed my hesitation
Then he motioned, ‘You be still! '
And plunged his hand into the glass
The mirror let him in,
His arm up to the elbow
Against science, against sin!
He reached his arm behind and pulled,
A girl came into sight,
She was standing in the mirror,
He was holding her so tight,
And she stared, while looking at me
And she said: ‘Qing bang bang wo! '
I could read it on her lips, and then
The wizard let her go.
She had said: ‘Would you please help me! '
But I'd stepped back in the room,
She was nowhere near behind me
Just reflected, in the gloom,
And I saw a tear forming at
The corner of her eye,
The wizard pulled his arm out, and
She waved to me, ‘Goodbye! '
I paid the man his money, and
I took the mirror down
On a wooden cart he lent me,
And I took it through Hunan,
Then I packed it on a train and went
Off speeding to Nanjing,
Where I kept a small apartment,
And I turned, and locked us in.
I stood the mirror over by
A meagre wooden shelf,
Then I stood quite still before it
Hoping she would show herself,
And I tried to put my arm inside
Like he had done before,
But the mirror was unyielding,
So I stood there, and I swore!
That night the girl appeared,
Standing right behind the glass,
And she pummelled on the surface
As if she'd be free at last,
But the mirror was ungiving,
And I couldn't hear her voice,
So I took a ball pein hammer -
It had given me no choice!
She could see me through the mirror,
In alarm, she mouthed ‘Meiyou! '
But her beauty had beguiled me
Though I knew she'd shouted ‘No! '
I was fevered and impatient now
To set this beauty free,
So I swung the ball pein hammer
And it shattered, over me!
She fell out through the broken glass,
Lay trembling in my room,
Bleeding, sobbing in the silence,
Like the silence of the tomb,
And she said she'd been imprisoned
Since the days of Qin Shi Huang,
Then she writhed upon the carpet
As her flesh turned into sand.
I had wanted to release her
To relieve those tender tears,
But her body, once released took on
The last two thousand years;
She took one last, despairing look
Then withered up to die,
And for years I've sought the answer
To the only question - ‘Why? '
6 July 2012
(Glossary -
R.M.B. - Ren-Min-bi - or yuan
Chinese currency.
Yāorén - magician
Qing bang bang wo - (Ching bang bang wor)
Please help me!
Meiyou - (May yo) - No
Qin shi Huang - (Chin Sher Hwang)
1st Emperor of China - 246-210 BC)
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sorcerer and the White Snake
Jet Li, Shengyi Huang, Raymond Lam, Charlene Choi, Zhang Wen, Vivian Hsu, Miriam Yeung Chin Wah, Kar-Ying Law, Chapman To
from The Sorcerer and the White Snake (2011)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Get Him Back
One man, he'd disappoint me
He'd give me the gouge and he take my glee
Now every other man I see
Remind me of the
One man who disappointed me
Wait 'til I get him back
He won't have a back to scratch
Yeah, keep turning that chin
And you will see my face
As I figure how to kill what I cannot catch
So I say "and on I go"
To another one who disappoint me so, oh oh
The next one up
A contemptible snob
He lived to put things in their place
He did a commendable job
He put himself so low
He can hardly even look me in the face
Wait 'til I get him back
He won't have a back to scratch
Yeah, keep turning that chin
And you will see my face
As I figure how to kill what I cannot catch
Oh, he made my blood just burn
I flipped so far
I thought that I would not return
But the last one I had
Who was getting my hopes up
I might have been a little fast to dismiss
I think he let me down when he didn't disappoint me
He didn't always guess right but he usually got my gist
So wait til I get him back
I'm gonna bring him home
And I'll watch him unpack
He keep turning that chin
And you will see my face
Is fixed on the one
I'm gonna get back
I'm gonna get him back
I am
I'm gonna get him back
I really am
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hand of Tong Bao Lin
I stood in front of the guillotine
And paled at the sharpened blade,
The motor hummed as my mind went numb
And my body shook and swayed,
The sweat poured into my open eyes
And blinded and burned like sin,
But I had no choice, I had to be free
Of the Hand of Tong Bao Lin.
I'd worked in China for seven years
In the city of old Qingdao,
If I hadn't been such a hero, I
Would still be working there now;
But I got involved in a scuffle there
When a woman was being attacked,
He'd snatched her bag and I snatched it too,
So he turned on me, and hacked.
I'd heard of the mean Hand-Chopper Gang,
Just petty crims on the whole,
They stole whatever was not nailed down,
Just handbags, wallets and gold,
But they carried machetes under their coats
For the woman who fought like mad,
If she wouldn't let go, they'd chop off her hand
And carry it off with the bag.
I stood in shock, and stared at my wrist,
While he took off, scot free,
My hand still clutching the shoulder strap
But it wasn't attached to me,
I bled all over the pavement there,
Collapsed in a bloody heap,
I only discovered my hand was gone
When I woke from a troubled sleep.
The doctors there were marvellous,
They tidied it up no end,
But it isn't much consolation when
You can't shake hands with a friend,
I'd just about been resigned to it
When in walked Doctor Chu,
He was something to do with the government,
Said - 'I need to talk with you! '
'Let's say that it's just an experiment,
Long odds, but you may just win,
Get you a working hand again,
Though one with a yellow skin.'
I signed the form with my one good hand
And put myself in his care,
If I'd known back then what I know today...
I'd have put an axe through his hair!
They took me away that very night
To a place both dread and grim,
To one of those Chinese Prisons where
You're dead if they let you in.
They housed me there in the hospital
And treated me better than those,
The walking dead in the prison beds
Who all wore the orange clothes.
The prison was only for murderers,
And those with a capital crime,
Whose fate was lead in the back of the head
It was only a question of time.
I heard men scream as I tried to sleep,
And many a Chinese curse,
But they filled me full of some sedative,
And this only made it worse.
I dreamt as I slept there fitfully
Of a man who was chained to his bed,
As the surgeons sliced at his body there,
His screams still ring in my head;
His face contorted, he looked at me
And managed an evil grin,
As they surgically took his hand, he said:
'You be sorry... I Tong Bao Lin! '
The fever lasted for days, I think,
I thought I'd never wake up,
But then one morning my mind was clear
And my arm was bandaged up,
Slowly, slowly I felt the hand
That they'd grafted onto my wrist,
I should have been grateful then, I know,
But I slowly became obsessed.
It healed at last, took many months,
But it worked, and didn't feel strange,
I carried the hand of a dead man now
But then it began to change,
I found it reached for a woman's purse
In a shop where she'd dropped it there,
And it gripped it fast when she snatched it back,
It was more than I could bear.
I fled outside in confusion, and
Made tracks for a backstreet den,
I had no idea what drew me there
But found it was opium;
They lay around with those long, clay pipes
And the hand, it reached for one,
I knew right there I would have to share
My life with Tong Bao Lin.
The hand, it reached into pockets when
I walked on my usual beat,
It seemed attracted to shiny things
And fondled the girls on the street,
It drew me into the thickest crowds
Did things that would bring me shame,
And I'd thrust it deep in my pocket then
For the sake of my own good name.
The hand was marred by a strange tattoo
A serpent with wings, on the thumb,
When traders saw it they veered away
And one of them pulled a gun.
I stayed at home and I locked the door
And I slowly became depressed,
The hand would pound on the wall, the floor
And the lid of a rosewood chest.
A Chinese man came to call one day,
Bowed low, and I let him in,
In broken English I heard him say:
'I lookin' for Tong Bao Lin! '
He stared on down at the yellow hand,
And looked at the old tattoo,
'Bao Lin! ' he pointed, 'an evil man!
You know what you have to do! '
And so, I stand by the guillotine,
The sweat pours into my eyes,
It takes two buttons to start the blade,
There's a demon to exorcise.
I place my wrist on the cutting line
And the man says, 'Let's begin! '
I push the button, and so does he,
The brother of Tong Bao Lin.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tattooed Man
He looked like a common sailor
As he wandered up from the port,
Carried his swag on his shoulder,
Wore a cap of the jaunty sort,
His eyes were livid and bloodshot,
Staring, under a tattooed brow,
And on his cheeks, a scatter of stars
As seen from an old ship's prow.
He stopped at the Mariners Arms
And bought a room on the upper floor,
Went out and stood on the balcony,
And stared on down at the square,
He'd left his shirt in the tiny room,
His torso, full in view,
There wasn't an inch of his sailor skin
Untouched by a bright tattoo.
His arms were covered in serpents
Writhing up, and under his chin,
His shoulders, Chinese Characters,
Of Ports, where he might have been,
His sides were covered in fungi
Found in tropical forest glades,
And down on his muscular midriff
The ubiquitous Queen of Spades.
And there on his chest in colours
Very subtle, and so refined,
There lay a naked woman
Baring all as she lay reclined,
Her lips were coloured in scarlet gloss
And pursed in a sensual pout,
Her eyes a searching, brilliant blue
That would find her lover out.
He turned away from the village square
And rested back on the rail,
So now the tattoos across his back
Could be seen... a Schooner's sail,
With storm-filled clouds and a rising swell
As the breakers slid on by,
And over the top, above it all
A piercing, staring eye!
For every passer-by that stared
The eye had stared them back,
Had stared right into the guilty soul
Where every sin was black!
And hairs rose up on the back of the neck,
And shivers ran down the spine,
As guilt drove men to the 'Man of War'
To drown their fears in wine!
And I... I came to the Mariners Arms
And I saw the tattoos there,
And the woman, bared on the sailor's chest
Made me quake and shake in fear,
For the face was unmistakable,
I had left her safe at home,
That face of lust was the woman I trust,
Was the wife I knew as Joan.
For days the sailor prowled the streets
And he peered through windows there,
But he never wore a shirt nor coat,
And he kept his torso bare,
The tattoos seemed to come to life
As he moved, they moved with him,
I saw the serpents flickering tongues
Reach out, and under his chin!
And from his back, the eye stared out
Made strong men weak and quail,
Their knees gave way as it stared them down
And they felt their courage fail,
Then Joan saw him in the market place,
And stood there, hypnotized,
As she stared at the face on the sailor's chest,
And he pierced her, with his eyes.
I saw her enter the Mariners Arms
And I tried to call her back,
But she walked like one in a crazy dream
And I heard her call him, 'Jack...'
They disappeared up the stairway,
Made their way to the upper floor,
I had raced to the top of the stairs when they
Went in, and locked the door.
Out in the street, the clouds rolled in
And the sea beat up on the shore,
The rain came down in a torrent,
Lightning flashed at the old Inn door,
Then he came out on the balcony,
Turned round, and showed his back,
Clung to the mast of the Schooner
There was a woman, dressed in black!
I followed the sailor down the street
In the wind and the pouring rain,
As lightning lit the storm on his back
And the woman screamed in pain,
But on his chest was an open space
And the eye had stared me down,
As he boarded a battered Schooner,
And then sailed away from the town!
24 August 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Terra Cotta Warrior
You stand with all your comrades in the van,
Unflinching, you survey the sweep of time,
Your eyes are sharp and stare, the man ahead
Does likewise, and your forehead wears a frown.
In darkness you were cast, you now appear
So sudden in the light, the dawn's grey wash,
The light is harsh and bright this time of year
And soon your colours fade, then turn to ash.
Then what alarm is this that breaks the spell
That Emperor Qin Shi Huang had caused to lie
Unbroken on your shoulders since he fell
And sought his bliss in heaven, on Mount Li.
What terrors brought his army to the light
Revealed the might of Qin to modern man,
The archers with their bows, when arrows sang,
The chariots and the horses in full flight.
While you, with weapon raised, prepare to march
Your armour, dirt ingrained two thousand years,
Is ready for the clash, the battle din,
The slash of sword, the whine, the thrust of spears.
But who are these, the strangers who now stare
Forever in their awe at your design?
A face familiar here, another there,
May just be from your son or daughter's line.
Be proud, Doushi, you come at last to stand
Revealed, to prove the potter's ancient craft,
While time stands still for all who see you there
To wonder at the world, where once, he laughed.
2 February 2006 - Xi'an
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tomb Is Empty
Face it friend, the tomb is empty; death couldn’t hold Christ, you see,
Although He died for you and me, He’s now on the Throne of Eternity.
The stone, covering where Christ lay, by God’s hand, was rolled away.
In that tomb where Christ was laid, only Christ’s grave clothes stayed,
There He stood, in a body Glorified, Jesus Christ, who bled and died.
Mary was the first one to that tomb, bearing a heart filled with gloom,
She assumed the body was taken, but she would be gladly mistaken,
For, with her heavy heart that day, she would soon hear an angel say,
You will not find Christ Jesus dead, for He rose just like He had said.
She left to tell others not to grieve, for The Lord, they too would see.
Now Mary filled with a joyful heart, from an empty tomb would depart,
Filled with wonder she ran to those, other disciples, to say Christ rose.
Peter began running fast ahead; as they had thought Christ was dead,
Now he ran with much anticipation, enthused by a brand new situation,
Looking inside he just saw clothes, for from the grave Christ had rose.
But all hearts stayed, like the tomb, until Christ entered into that room,
Showing them His hands and side, proving He was The One who died.
Christ would stay for forty days, filling their hearts with joy and praise,
Filing them with His Hope and victory, that will last through all eternity,
Where they shall remain forevermore, with their Savior, Christ our Lord.
(Copyright ©04/2007)
The Concubine
Chen Xiao Fei while the sun does shine
Was taken as the Emperor's concubine,
Just one of a hundred from the village Yang Ping
And chosen by the placing of a bright gold ring.
The Emperor's minions took her by the hand
And led her far away from the life she'd planned,
Her tears flew wide as she said zy jian
To the Ma ma, signing her away with a pen.
She said farewell to her friends from the school
Then they bathed her well in a rose-petalled pool,
They dressed her in the silks of a young girl's dream
And gave her to the Emperor, at just fourteen.
She lodged with the other of his concubines
Who taught her the rules she must follow all times
She never must climb in the top of his bed
But crawl beneath the sheet from his feet to his head.
She was told of the colours that she must not wear
And she came and she went, but by a side door
She was low in the rank of his concubines
And waited on him calling her, the very first time.
But once he had ravaged her virginity
She was told to leave his bed, but immediately,
For all of his consorts waited in a line
For the glory of a moment as his concubine.
They were guarded by the eunuchs of the Emperor's court
Who dallied with the concubines, until they were caught,
Then their heads were toppled by a sharp steel blade
And buried in the field where their sisters were laid.
But the news came down, and the news was bleak
That the Emperor was dead, had died in his sleep
And the Empress ordered that Chen Xiao Fei
Would be buried standing up, in the Emperor's grave.
She begged and she pleaded with the Emperor's wife
But consorts were needed in the afterlife,
She could choose to be drowned in the well by the park,
Or hang herself there, with a bright silk scarf.
She picked out a scarf to be hung, Xiao Fei
Along with the others, at dawn the next day,
And they all were buried by the eunuch guard
In a line, in a field by the Palace's yard.
And now as you pass by a field, weed-grown
There's barely a glimpse of a weather-worn stone,
All that is left of the girl sent away
For the lust of an Emperor, Chen Xiao Fei.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wang Dang Doodle
Tell Automatic Slim
Tell Razor Totin' Jim
Tell Butcher Knife Totin' Annie
Tell Fast Talkin' Fanny
Tonite we're gonna pitch a ball
Down to that union hall
Gonna romp and tromp 'till midnite
We're gonna fuss and fight 'till daylight
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Poodle I'll tell him here
Tell Albert I'll see him near
Tell old Pistol Pete
Everybody gonna meet
Tonite we need no rest
We're really gonna throw a mess
We're gonna break out all the windows
Gonna kick down all the doors
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
Tell Fats and Washboard Sam
That everybody's gonna jam
Just shake it Boxcar Joe
We got sawdust on the floor
Tell Chicken Head Till I Die
We're gonna have a time
When the fish head fills the air
Be snuff juice everywhere
We're gonna pitch a wang dang doodle all nite long
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One-Sided Conversation
She sat, head bent,
In her old, grey chair,
The blinds were pulled and drawn,
The shadows caught
In the gathering gloom,
But she moved not at all;
Her husband, stood by the old oak door
He'd cleared his throat to speak,
'You wanted to see me, then, ' he said,
A pallor upon his cheek.
She knew, he thought,
She knew full well
His cheating, shiftless ways,
He'd married her more for her money
Than for her wit, her charm or grace.
She'd warned him once
She'd warned him twice,
She'd said that he made her sick,
Now he was the one who was feeling ill
As she still refused to speak.
'I 'spect you want
Me gone, ' he said,
And waited for some response,
She sat, head bent in her favourite chair
As he stood there, like a dunce.
'I need some money,
A thousand pounds,
Will get me out of a fix.'
The way she sat, and stared at the floor
Meant: 'No, I'll give you nix.'
He mopped his forehead
With trembling hands,
The sharks were closing in,
If she didn't come to his rescue, well,
He'd seen what they'd do to him…
'I beg you, think
Of your own good name, '
But she wasn't listening then,
Her face was grim, she stared at the floor,
With nothing left for him.
He went to a drawer
And took a gun,
Then held it up to his head,
'I'd never have thought you could be so cruel
To the man who shares your bed.'
The air grew chill
In the silent room
As he let out a plaintive cry,
The shot rang out, but she didn't move
As he fell to the floor, and died.
The doctor came,
And the police, of course,
But the wife still sat and stared,
The husband lay on the bloodstained rug
As if she'd never cared.
'It's very odd, '
Said the sergeant then,
But the Doctor suppressed a laugh,
'He's only been dead for an hour, ' he said,
'She's been dead for an hour and a half.'
9 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everybody Have Fun Tonight
(wang chung / peter wolf)
Id drive a million miles
To be with you tonight
So if youre feeling low
Turn up your radio
The words we use are strong
They make reality
But now the musics on
Oh baby dance with me
Rip it up - move down
Rip it up - move it down to the ground
Rip it up - cool down
Rip it up - and get the feeling not the word
Chorus:
Oh everybody have fun tonight
Everybody have fun tonight
Everybody wang chung tonight
Everybody have fun tonight
Everybody wang chung tonight
Everybody have fun
Deep in the world tonight
Our hearts beat safe and sound
Ill hold you so close
Just let yourself go down
Rip it up - move down
Rip it up - move it down to the ground
Rip it up - cool down
Rip it up - get the feeling not the word
Repeat chorus
On the edge of oblivion
All the world is babylon
And all the love and everyone
A ship of fools sailing on
Across the nation, around the world
Everybody have fun tonight
A celebration so spread the word
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chinese Box
For years, the 'Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
Had stood in the shade of a country lane,
Quietly tending its residents there,
The old, the feeble, the stark insane.
The blurb said, here was a heaven on earth
For the old to pass their declining years,
It said they lived in a quiet content,
The truth was actually quite the reverse.
For Matron Margaret Parker-Lang was
A nun, expelled from the Carmelites,
'Too much of the world', they said of her,
When caught indulging in base delights.
The years had hardened, had turned her hair
An iron grey, and her eyes were cold,
She only smiled when the visitors came
To pay the fees for their aged, in gold.
She didn't encourage their visits, though:
'It's hard, you see, and they get upset,
Best to remember them how they were,
Their memories fade, then they forget.'
Few would revisit the Heavenly Gates,
They left them safe in the nurse's care,
Who drugged the residents every night
So none could complain of their treatment there.
They gathered them all in a stupor, sat
In rows, in front of a giant screen,
Then played them movies in black and white
'Til half the residents there could scream.
The food was bland and inedible,
So soon they wasted to skin and bone,
And those who thought to protest would find
They'd confiscated their telephone.
The visiting Locum, Doctor Zourk,
Had quite a collection of things antique,
Whenever he'd visit a prospect's home,
They'd be committed, within the week.
Then he and the Matron would take their pick
Of anything there that took the eye,
If anyone later complained, they'd say:
'He'd put it out for the rubbish guy! '
But once in 'The Muse of the Heavenly Gates'
The trap would spring, the shades come down,
They'd flourish the papers and help him sign
His house and his title deeds to them.
Again, when his mind was wandering
The Matron would sit, and hold his hand:
'Organ donation, that's the thing,
If you could help, that would be grand! '
I was away in China, when
My father went to the Heavenly Gates,
A note from the Matron said, 'He's fine!
Our lawyers will help him to sort his estate.'
I must have been deaf to the warning bells,
My mind was focused, I let it be,
I never once thought of the Chinese Box
That I'd taken home on a previous leave.
I'd happened on it in a Curio Shop
In the winding back streets of Xi'an,
I'd never quite managed to puzzle it out
And finally left the old box at home.
I knew it was ancient, marked and scored,
With a funny old Chinese symbol too,
The Chinese owner had bowed and smiled
When I asked what the box could really do.
It came as a shock when my father died,
We'd not been together for quite a spell,
By the time that I got back home again,
They'd taken his organs, eyes as well.
Unknown to me, he had signed a form
That I knew he'd not in the world have done,
To give them the right to his organs, once
He had passed away, and his race was run.
I was angry then, but I went on home
And braced myself for another shock,
Things were missing, a Chinese screen
And my beautiful, ancient Chinese Box.
My back was up, my suspicions rife
I sought out the Matron then, to talk,
But found her dead on the slab back there,
Dismembered by locum, Doctor Zourk.
He'd taken some of her organs out,
They sat in the open fridge nearby,
But then she coughed, and she sat up straight,
Let out a horrible, piercing cry.
The doctor staggered and ran from the room
Like a sprinter, racing right out of the blocks,
'Watch for that old antique, ' she hissed,
'The dragon that came in the Chinese Box! '
She was breathing for barely a minute more
As she fell back onto the blood-soaked deck,
But what she managed to whisper there
Made the hairs rise up on the back of my neck,
She'd solved the puzzle and opened the box
When the drawer slid out with a sudden bang,
For what had jumped out and bitten her then
Was the Dragon of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.
The dragon's venom had paralyzed her,
So Zourk had thought she was good and dead,
He'd wanted the Box for himself, you see,
But she had raided our house, instead.
He thought he could sell her organs then,
And pick up the box as a plus, as well,
Collectors become more fanatical when
On that short sharp road to a personal hell!
The Box sits there by the mantelpiece
Wherever I travel, or think to roam,
I've travelled on back to China, so
The Dragon will feel that it's safe at home.
I heard that the Doctor is doing time
For the gruesome murder of Matron Lang,
Thank God - I haven't been introduced
To the Dragon of Emperor Qin Shi Huang.
25 October 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bridge
i stared across the bridge,
lantern held high...
searching the trees and
the shadows for a sign.
the surging river below
made my heart stamp its feet;
the wind blew, almost moaned,
the bridge groaned as it swayed.
taking off my boots,
i crossed barefooted and sure.
looking down, i could not see rocks,
but i knew they were there...
on the other side the damp dirt
felt good to my feet...
i followed the path down,
ever down... a wolf howled!
i came to a clearing,
made out the form of your hut...
dark and still, almost a womb.
i made my way to the door,
my trembling hand on the knob...
unlocked, the door opened.
staring around the darkened room,
nothing moved, only a lone candle
on the table beside the bed.
i could feel the stare
of your hungry eyes...
heard you whisper, 'come here! '
a thousand battles,
and journeys untold,
forgotten in the warmth
of your flesh...
new stars formed
in a limitless sky,
fell and shattered
as we loved!
the groan of the earth,
the moan of the wind,
the fury of storms unleashed.
holding back, holding back,
till there was no return...
dissolving into the fire
of your pulsing depths...
and all of life, finished!
with the morning light,
i found myself alone...
got up and dressed
with the ache and the taste...
as i left the hut,
i turned to see the owl...
set my chin, braced my mind,
and walked to face the coming snow!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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First Encounter - Ng Yen Yen
Ng Yen Yen
a character from my favourite
wang mei tiau movie?
The Tourism Minister Datuk Seri Ng Yen Yen reminds me of the characters in the Chinese period Wang Mei Tiau movies. Indeed she loves to wear a colourful shawl over her Kebaya (Malay influenced blouses with fine embellishment at the edges that accentuate the waist and long skirts. The women in Wang Mei Tiau Chinese period movies cover up their physiques, legs and hands included, in lengthy costumes. Wang Mei Tiau movies were a hit in the 60s and movies like Liang San Pe and Zhu Ying Tai and Hua Mulan are known all over the Chinese world. We met at a media dinner at the Royale Chulan Hotel in Kuala Lumpur in 2009 to introduce Jean Todt as an
ambassador of Tourism.
.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nefarious War
Last year we fought by the head-stream of the Sang-kan,
This year we are fighting on the Tsung-ho road.
We have washed our armor in the waves of the Chiao-chi lake,
We have pastured our horses on Tien-shan's snowy slopes.
The long, long war goes on ten thousand miles from home,
Our three armies are worn and grown old.
The barbarian does man-slaughter for plowing;
On this yellow sand-plains nothing has been seen but
blanched skulls and bones.
Where the Chin emperor built the walls against the Tartars,
There the defenders of Han are burning beacon fires.
The beacon fires burn and never go out,
There is no end to war!—
In the battlefield men grapple each other and die;
The horses of the vanquished utter lamentable cries to heaven,
While ravens and kites peck at human entrails,
Carry them up in their flight, and hang them on the branches of dead trees.
So, men are scattered and smeared over the desert grass,
And the generals have accomplished nothing.
Oh, nefarious war! I see why arms
Were so seldom used by the benign sovereigns.
A Song Of Painting: To General Cao Ba
You, General Cao Ba,
descendant of Cao Cao,
now live as a peasant,
a cold-door commoner.
Your ancestor's heroic age
carved out kingdoms of old,
and its cultural brilliance, its style,
still survive in your work.
To learn calligraphy
you first studied Lady Wei;
your only regret was not surpassing
the great Wang Xizhi .
You said, 'Caught up in my painting,
I give no thought to old age;
riches and rank are to me
no more than clouds floating by.'
Often summoned to court
during the Kaiyuan period,
frequently you ascended the dais
to receive the Emperor's praise.
In the Gallery of Famous Men
the noble faces were fading;
going to work with your brush
you brought back their freshness.
On the ministers' heads you repainted
their hats of office,
at the waists of the fierce generals,
their great feathered arrows.
The Duke of Bao and Duke of E--
so lifelike their hair bristles--
stand grim, bold and heroic,
as if in the midst of battle.
The late Emperor's imperial horse,
Jade-Flower Dapple,
had been painted by artist after artist,
but none could capture his essence.
One day he was led into the courtyard
below the red steps of the palace;
standing there by the palace gates
he embodied the wind of the plains.
At the Emperor's command
you stretched white silk to paint on;
calling up all of your skill,
you formed the image in your mind.
In a flash, from the nine-fold heavens,
the true 'dragon' emerged!
At one stroke, the horse paintings of ages
were obliterated.
When the painting was taken up
and hung above the throne,
the horse on the wall and that in the yard
gazed proudly into each other's face.
Smiling, the Emperor hastened his aide
to bring a handsome reward;
stable-boys and grooms stood long-faced,
jealous of His Majesty's favor.
Your pupil Han Gan was long since
shown all your techniques;
he too can paint horses,
horses in every stance imaginable,
but Gan paints only the outer flesh,
not the strength that lies beneath;
his brush would dampen the spirit
of legendary Hualiu!
The General is a superb painter
because he captures the essence.
In the past you often rendered
likenesses of distinguished men;
in the present troubled times,
uprooted and homeless,
you are reduced to painting portraits
of humble passersby.
So desperate are your straits, you put up
with the snubs of commoners--
never in the world
has anyone been as poor as you!
But look at the lives of famous men
throughout history--
they too were forced to deal
with endless frustrations
Lalani
I swore, when my wife took off one night
That I'd never love again,
She'd left a note by the candlelight:
'I've been seeing other men! '
I stood in shock, I couldn't move,
Stood rooted to the floor,
And after I'd pulled the blinds, I cried,
Then locked the cottage door.
The love that she'd sworn, just shadows;
The plans that we'd made, just sand,
My life had become a darker place
By the scrawl from a woman's hand.
The cottage was wreathed in silence, it
Was still, like a living tomb,
The only sounds were my echoing steps
As I paced there, in the gloom.
I spent, God! How many weeks? I sat
Just stared at a blank, white wall,
I didn't dare venture out, but drank,
I tried to forget it all,
But then I'd walk at the lonely beach
Where we'd skipped to a lovers tune,
The light of love had been in my eyes
As she'd danced to a harvest moon.
The autumn passed in a drunken haze
The nights were becoming chill,
I warmed myself in the comforting blaze
Of a wood fire on the hill,
But then one night as the breakers crashed
And spent themselves on the reef,
I heard the sounds of a woman's moans
Rise up from the lonely beach.
The storm was whipping the rising crests,
The wind soughed through the trees,
I made my way to the beach, and there
She crawled on her hands and knees,
I picked her up, and carried her back
To the cottage, and there I saw
The sea had savaged her body there,
Dragged over the rocky shore.
There was no clothing of any sort,
Her skin was a pearly white,
But scraped and marred, she was loveliness
As she even bled in the night,
I washed and tended her every cut
And I held my breath in the gloom,
I couldn't believe my fortune there
As she lay in my own front room.
I wrapped her up in a robe, to save
Embarrassment for us both,
She slept content for an hour or two
While I watched, and prayed and hoped,
Then just at dawn, she opened her eyes
Took one brief glance at me,
Then muttered a word, she said, 'La-la...'
Again, said: 'La-lani.'
For days she lay in a fever, and
I fed her on fish and bread,
I tried to get her to talk to me
But she only shook her head,
She'd had a cut on the side of her neck
That had healed, some time before,
But opened up as I stared at it,
So she hid it under her hair.
Within a week she was up and out,
Was dancing along the beach,
She'd smile, and tease me to chase her there,
I laughed, first time for weeks;
She peeled the robe off as she danced,
Came naked into my arms,
Then kissed and smothered me way out there
With all of her womanly charms.
I thought that she might be deaf and dumb,
She never attempted a word,
But showed affection by patting my arm,
By nodding and shaking her head.
The slit on her neck stayed open, and
I looked at the other side,
Where one of the same had marred her skin,
She dropped her eyes, and sighed.
I'd said I never would fall in love
Again, and that was true,
But that was before Lalani,
I was smitten, and that she knew.
I told her then that I wanted her,
Said I loved her more than life,
I didn't care that she couldn't speak,
I'd take her for my wife.
She smiled, but then looked troubled,
Dropped her head down onto her chin,
I found her down at the water's edge
Where the tide was coming in,
She opened her mouth and sang a note
As mournful as the grave,
Like the tone of a bell in a waterspout,
Or an underwater cave.
And there in the shallows rose a man
With skin like a silver fish,
With eyes like a giant halibut,
And teeth for tearing flesh,
He leapt right out of the water,
Seized her arm and dragged her in,
I shouted her name, 'Lalani...'
But they'd gone, and the sea was calm.
In terror, I launched my boat, and revved
The engine out in the bay,
I circled the shallow waters,
Then I headed on out to sea,
I stopped at last, and stared straight down
To the weed on the ocean floor,
It was then that I saw Lalani
Swimming under the surface there.
She floated, feet below me,
Looking up, and she waved goodbye,
The fish man waited down below
As she turned - I thought I'd die!
She sank to the depths, and out of sight,
I knew that she'd gone for good...
I'll burn the cottage one moonless night,
Love's not in my neighborhood!
22 July 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Penetration And Trust
I
Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone,
The look of her heart slipped out and in.
Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone,
As innocents clear of a shade of sin.
II
He laid a finger under her chin,
His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown:
Now, what will happen and who will win,
With me in the fight and my lady lone?
III
He clasped her, clasping a shape of stone;
Was fire on her eyes till they let him in.
Her breast to a God of the daybeams shone,
And never a corner for serpent sin.
IV
Tranced she stood, with a chattering chin;
Her shrunken form at his feet was thrown:
At home to the death my lord shall win,
When it is no tyrant who leaves me lone!
poem by George Meredith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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