Yiling Ding
Yiling Ding Poems
The mess keeps piling up.
In the storage room
the number of empty boxes
keeps growing.
...
We cannot feel alive
without sensations.
A gentle brush
or a piercing pain:
...
I ate a pebble for breakfast
A stone for lunch
And a boulder for dinner.
Usually the same mass of food
...
We're just flightless birds
waiting an eternity to find love
With our clipped and injured wings
in silence we stare at the dark sky
...
Sometimes the empty night can get
far too overwhelming
The loneliness envelops me
devours me
...
Like glass, like silk.
An image in the mirror
I dreamt of last night
continues to haunt me.
...
Just because the flowers
are blooming now
Just because the fruits
have ripened now
...
They slit my wrists in the dark
with the hissing of their kisses
but I could not bleed.
With painful dismissiveness
...
Two brown eyes, black hair
Asian
A unique sensation:
using a foreign tongue
...
If the butterfly had a neck,
it would stretch it out long and thin
and saturate its senses
with painfully blissful heat,
...
I stand in the shadow of giants
and I measure my height against them.
I am constantly looking for the edge of the sky
that I might find hidden in a sliver of
...
Someone get me out of this spiraling stairwell
Up or down I can't see the light
Everywhere there's nothing but
continuing steps
...
Love is like
the smell of cigarettes
and the taste of vodka,
sharp in the tongue.
...
I crave the sweet melting sensation
of warm chocolate
The crispy cake exterior with its
subtle cocoa bitterness
...
I wish the pain would just stop
All the dreams that never will be
All the things I never can be
And all those expectations
...
Love is like water
Sometimes it surges
Rushing through the mind
...
Like a nightmare that knows no awakening
The burden follows me, and clings to my back
Its weight threatens to topple me, heavier every day
Muddy tendrils are gripping me, pulling me to the ground
...
Give me a cure
for unrequited love
A fix for this
sourness in my heart
...
The smooth fluid touch of silk,
an ephemeral moment
leaving me desirous for more.
And then the rough burning
...
The Best Poem Of Yiling Ding
Spring Cleaning
The mess keeps piling up.
In the storage room
the number of empty boxes
keeps growing.
In the wardrobe
the number of outfits that are
too small, too big
keeps increasing.
In the corners which are
always too neglected,
the dust just keeps
building up
until I cough myself
half-dead.
On the kitchen counters
the food stains
are getting harder
to remove.
The mess keeps piling up.
More and more useless information
is congesting the current
of my brain nerves.
More and more memories
are weighing me down
until light innocence
is too burdened to move.
And so we clean things
and throw things
and hopefully - recycle.
Chuck out the old and moldy
the dusty, outdated
so we have more room
for the new.
But it feels like
carving out brain-bits
Particles of the past.
Erasing the evidence
for my memories
so I may doubt
that they existed.
So maybe
my past was always
wrong
if it must be
deleted.
I don't like throwing things away.
Yiling Ding Comments
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3/14/2026 8:38:27 PM # 1.0.0
