Leslie Ching Poems
|45.||My Heart Is Bruised Black And Blue||12/7/2008|
|49.||Not A Whisper||4/11/2009|
|53.||Reality, Irony, And Other Stuff||12/21/2008|
|56.||Roses Will Sing||3/31/2010|
|57.||S U C K E D I N||9/27/2009|
|59.||Sixty Thousand Poppies||6/6/2011|
|63.||Tears Of Blood||10/18/2009|
|64.||Tears Of Joy||2/26/2010|
|65.||This Book Called Life||5/4/2009|
|66.||'To Do' List Of A Klutz, A.K.A Yours Truly||12/7/2008|
|67.||Two Sides To Everything||2/21/2009|
In a bitter chiselling winter gust,
Dusty flecks of snow whirl about in the air around me,
Enveloping my figure in a spiral of white,
While I wait impatiently for my bus to appear on the horizon.
Bored and chilled to the bone,
I scrape up a rough pile of greyed snow,
Delicately shape it with my clunky boots,
Smoothly rounding out the sides into a fat cylinder, and
Gently patting down on soft surface until it’s nice and flat.
Still there is a tiny chink at the edge where loose snow chipped off.
Try as I might, I cannot block up ...
There are some things
That everyone knows;
Like, for instance,
That “April showers bring May flowers”,
And that after a shower there’s always a rainbow,
And on that rainbow seven colours are painted,
And at the end of those colours is a pot of gold.
Everyone knows you can never reach the end of it.