When Ash Falls
In the quiet prayer room
She lights up a long incense stick
Piously places it to the ceramic burner
On the altar table
Then starts to pray
Her daily ritual in memory of him
The incense smoke slowly ascends
Swings and sways
Higher and thinner
Seemly his shadow in mist
Mysterious and wandering
The nostalgic fragrance of
The sandalwood stick is
Permeating and calming
Under the spell
She dozes off with a hand
Still holding the chanting book
Time is transiently tugged away
The world is gently budged aside
In the dream
She rejoices over the reunion with him
Only the glowing ember is
Still in line with time
Slowly it descends down the stick
Atop ash grows taller
Resisted to leave, it remains erect
Suddenly, its fluffiness yields to gravity
When ash falls
It makes no sound
As he turns to dust
Deceiving Fall
If fall is your favorite season
And the last one was
Unfortunately, your last
It is not so bad
You won’t miss this fall
Since it is a deceiving one
Autumn is here to show off its colors
But the golden red
Turns into sanguineous scarlet
The bright yellow now
Looks more like ailing jaundice
And the withering brown heralds
Falling of leaves along with
Many lives in tow
The fall wind thwarts summer heat
But it also provokes a fearful chill
For the bleak winter foreseeable
When autumn gust swirls up leaves to the air
They will be mixed with viruses,
Political lies, chicanery and
Hundreds of thousands of
Unduly defunct spirits
Rest in peace, you won’t miss this fall
Fall in Love
Love the myriad versatility of poems
Innumerous as the sands of the Ganges
Long or short, they all have their branded poises
Adventurous demure flamboyant unassuming
Hilarious serene mysterious enigmatic
They are all precious
Admire the authors of poems
They joggle words like magicians tossing stars
They sing intuitively of feelings
Dance impromptu of emotions
Spirits free as birds
With genie’s power they layout rainbows
Bridging heart and heaven
Awed by the undertones between lines
Amazed at the silent songs embedded in ballads
Elated by déjà vu and serendipity encountered in verses
They are panacea
They are immortal
Fall in love with those poems
Praise the poets
Bio
Shih-Fang Wang: After retirement from medical profession in 2016 I shifted gears and entered into the fascinating art world. I enjoy writing and watercolor painting. In Dr. Mira N. Mataric’s creative writing class I started to write poems. Through expressing emotions, depicting humanity, exploring life and nature with poems I am able to gain more insight into my inner world.
Three beautiful poems, the last especially touching, in praise of poems and the poets who write them. Brava Rose.
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