A Strange Journey/Michael Kwack
Entering a souvenir store on the road,
I realized I’d lost my luggage.
The wallet was well kept in my back pocket;
But money for the remaining days,
And passport, business card, party clothes, etc.,
All were in that suitcase I'd lost.
I didn't remember
Which roads I'd been walking along,
And at which store I'd let go of my trunk.
I turned ar...
Wednesday 3rd August 2022 7:12 am
The Flower One Day / Michael Kwack
While I was not out,
The flower bloomed;
That will fall,
The flower of love,
While I do not look,
The heart will fall.
Tuesday 6th July 2021 1:50 am
The Thorn / Michael Kwack
It seemed a big bird had flown;
For, onto the desk of my own,
A feather was falling,
Through the air fluttering.
As if in a dream did I gaze:
A tiny bird it was!
I stretched an arm,
And the bird got on my palm.
The whole body, in bright gold,
Was the wing of this bird.
Should I hold it on my palm?
Let it go afloat in...
Wednesday 17th March 2021 2:06 pm
letter to spring / michael kwack
in a wind
there i smell a scent of spring
i've passed the winter away
in a far place alone
but it was now
only hours of emptiness
i've got to write letters
the last confession to myself
then meet the spring
in complete quietness
Thursday 25th February 2021 11:05 am
Résumé / Michael Kwack
dull without passion.
tough without fortune.
harsh without comfort.
dry without dream.
empty without story.
absurd without wit.
Thursday 7th January 2021 4:43 pm
Play in the Night
From two o’clock
When owls hoot
Up to four when cocks crow
Surely I will be kept awake,
To watch the secret play
Of the conscious and unconscious.
However, I will not see
The queer performance inside me
As a mere dream in the night.
If I long for better plays,
More I will wander dur...
Tuesday 29th December 2020 3:20 am
Putting Out the Lamp
In the dusk of early evening one day
I awakened from a belated nap,
And came to find nobody back home yet,
Only the wall lamp flickering away.
I, the child, quickly getting quailed,
Started running away from the dark haunted place,
But soon stopped for looking backward
For some reasons I couldn't quite grasp.
Probably it was the left-a...
Tuesday 15th September 2020 2:36 pm
Was it true,
sleep depends on tears?
To refill the well
that had dried up by day,
Or to wet the lids, at least,
by dreaming sad dreams,
With that tearful hope,
had the sleep come by night?
Sunday 26th July 2020 10:40 am
A Pilot's Joke / Michael Kwack
Once upon a time there lived a flying man
Who kept flying on, never thinking of landing...
One day accidently he had to land
Somewhere, or nowhere, on the sand....
After having lived alone very happily ever after,
He left a poem in the sand when he finally left his land,
I used to love sand,
For, where there'...
Saturday 18th July 2020 3:34 pm
What springs up in spring
All falls in the next fall;
All the fruit we have,
And says we are rich,
Not having to worry
Where and how to winter.
Sunday 12th July 2020 1:57 pm
Dominoes are hanging, like 88 wind-chimes, inside a
Record shop window; whereinto an old Irish priest, once a dreamer of becoming
Michelangelo, or Liszt the virtuoso, today called
'Father Manyon,' is peeping; recalling the scented
Solitary pine, on the hillside of his home town; whereunder he used to recite
La Belle Dame sans Merci, often wishing to
See the pale sighing face o...
Thursday 9th July 2020 3:02 pm
Leisurely and alone,
I was wandering in a palace garden.
Flowers were completely gone,
But deep green summer leaves fully grown,
And on each branch
Small birds all the way chirping:
Certainly for me a perfect afternoon
To be lost in poem-reciting!
But suddenly a wind arose
When a human voice caught my ear,
Saying low yet rather vivid:
"It's me, s...
Thursday 2nd July 2020 5:24 pm
On the wall of my empty room
I think I'll hang a picture of rain.
Hitting the ground,
And bouncing up to ankles,
The rain will be wetting my socks
And trousers from below;
My eyes will follow
...tick, tick, tick...
Checking everything on the picture,
Until catching a black brolly,
And the shiny enamel shoes,...
Saturday 27th June 2020 7:47 am
The Poor Little Dove/Michael Kwack
To watch the wave play with the wind,
I sat by the museum garden pond.
Then a small pigeon came flying,
Landed to her feet, tiny and cute,
And stared up at me, a bit intensely,
Only blinking her eyes, no other move.
She was standing like a camera model,
And I recalled my infanthood pictures.
I started taking som...
Thursday 25th June 2020 11:55 am
The transparent sunlight
stirred by her
Friday 19th June 2020 4:55 pm