Yen Cress Poems
Comments about Yen Cress
From inland mountains to the salt-soaked shore,
From China's border to the southern plains,
The earth lies drenched in sweat and bloody gore,
And tears keep falling like the summer rains.
Where is the peace we offered to restore?
What have we done, and who has paid the price?
Two million bodies live and breathe no more,
And corpses rot in graves near fields of rice.
A father weeps; his only son is dead.
Small children cry; their mothers cannot come.
A boy is blinded; old rags swathe his head.
Young widows beg the mercy of Quan Am.
The Viet ...
Good Clean Fun
She scrubs the floor on hands and knees
Nor thinks to take a moment's ease.
She dusts and waxes varnished wood
And wipes the mirrors as she should.
She polishes the silverware
And shines the glasses with a flair.
She tidies up each cluttered room:
No scraps escape her corn-straw broom.
She feeds the teak with Danish oil