Fantasia

I live in a castle
Where the dragon guards my door
Through the big windows I see
The lush green of a forest
Which attracts the wildlife
With whom I share the paths
Music resonates through
The tower hoisted high
The weather is always nice
The wildflowers make me feel bright
The rice stalks add to the charm
On my daily walks my feet are light
If you listen you will hear
The sounds of nature all around us
If you look you will see
The moon and the stars of the heaven
Shining and twinkling above us
The poems I heard in my youth
Come rushing back to me
I recite them softly
Inspired by the beauty
I have the fortune to be part of

All I Need is a Massage

You wonder why I pout
Why I don’t yield to your command
Though you think I get tender loving care
There is something that makes me tense
My muscles are tired
My bones are weary
They are exercised daily
They love to stay strong
Strength is not just measured
By the weights one can hold
But also by how flexible
One can bend with grace
So I need to tell you
How to make me happy
All I need is a massage
Then all should be well

Taming of the Shrew

I’ve been working on my left hand for about three months. I underwent surgery to fix broken bones. It has been a slow process. The doctor declared me “healed,” but I don’t feel healed - even though I’m far ahead from the first time the splint was taken off and the brace was put on. At that time, the nurse told me that I should restrict lifting anything heavier than a cup of coffee with my left hand. That seemed so heavy, a cup of coffee! My proud accomplishments were to hold a cup of coffee and tip it to my lips, and to shampoo my hair with my left hand. After the brace was taken out almost two months ago, I could do a lot more, but my left hand still feels injured. I can still feel the restriction of the muscles and tendons that hold things together and allow for smooth and painless movements. I faithfully perform the exercises to strengthen and stretch my fingers and wrist and arm, but my progress has not been a complete success. I come to think of my endeavor as one of “taming of the shrew.” The shrew here is my left hand. I am determined that one day it will yield to me. One day I won’t feel any resistance when I bend it one way or another. One morning when I wake up, I can close my fingers into a fist. One day my many friends will say “I told you so, you’ll be back to normal.” One day I will be able to counsel those who have doubts about their hand injury recoveries. One day I don’t even remember the struggle I had in regaining mobility to my left hand. It will be in the distant past. I don’t know if old age is working against my progress and if determination is enough. But determine I must. I must. I must. The shrew must be tamed.

Valentine's Day Poems

Growing up, I never knew the artistic side of my father. I did not see him read books, and as far as I knew, he did not pursue any hobbies outside of work. He was good with numbers. Math was the only subject I remember getting help from him.

Only a few years ago, while I was cleaning my mother’s bedroom after her fall, that I found poems my parents wrote to each other while dating. I wasn’t surprised to see poems my mother wrote because I knew about her interest in literature and poetry. She had written many poems in her youth and continued to do that in her old age. She constantly recites poems that she had memorized, even now when she has dementia. But neither my father nor mother ever told me about my father’s writings. I was floored.

And then just recently, I found poems my parents wrote to each other later in life! My father not only used to write poems in his youth, he did so when he was already a grandpa. My parents confessed their love to each other on a Valentine’s Day. Oh my. My parents never talked romance. They never talked love. The word love doesn’t exist in their language. Or does it? With these poems, I stand corrected.

Someone was kind to offer to make a picture. I supplied the poems and a picture of my parents taken shortly after their wedding. She designed the page.

This is not a translation. I don’t even claim that my words extract all the essence of my parents’ poems. But not everyone reads my parents’ language, I want to at least express some of their love in English for the majority of my audience.

Mom’s poem written on February 14, 1992:

On Valentine’s Day I send you a page
Loving you just like the first days we met
We have been through so much together
In sickness and health we adored each other
I weave a poem to express my love
The love that has deepened with age
The moon is the witness to our love
On Valentine’s Day I send you a page

Dad’s poem written on March 3, 1992 as a response to Mom’s poem:

I am so touched to receive a page

I remember the days when we first met
Under the moonlight we built our dreams
And the gods smiled on us through the years
Our poetry is woven with golden rays
As the evening light dances on your face
Faithfully I am forever yours
I am so touched to receive a page

 

Collage #65

The summer month of June
Sends friends from afar
We take walks and swim
We eat cakes and sing
Cụ goes to a casino
And plays slot machines
With a million-dollar smile
She shows off her prize
Bà goes to Dallas
To be with old friends
They have so much fun
They can’t stop laughing
Drakeson goes to camp
Sleeping away from home
Milli misses him a lot
Five days are so long
Now we are together
June is almost over
But the fun goes on
Summer has just begun
Hurray for summer fun

Hand

When I go to sleep at night
Hand goes to sleep too
In the morning when I rise
Hand prefers to stay asleep a while

Hand is like a lover
Who requires a lot of care
And wants to be caressed
With lotion to stay soft and fair

Hand is not happy with me
Putting Hand in a splint
Ignoring Hand for a few weeks
Even when Hand was swollen

Now the splint is off
But Hand is not pleased
Hand grants me a hard time
Blaming me of neglect

Hand complains of pain
Saying Hand needs some more rest
Before getting flexible
Hand enjoys seeing me beg

Hand tells me I need
To show my love and devotion
It will not be in just a day
When Hand allows feeling well again

Hand says repentance is in order
Adding in time and patience
Hand will think of forgiving
Perhaps in a few weeks

A few weeks or a few months
I opt to learn to wait
I hope Hand will agree
To soon again be supple

I regret getting Hand hurt
And breaking her precious bones
I hope Hand will forgive
So my life will not be so dull

I will take care of Hand
Each hour of the days
Count on me, the faithful lover
Love Hand, I will forever

The poem Hand was written a few days after Tay

Tay

Tối tôi lên giường ngủ

Tay cũng ngủ theo tôi
Sáng mai khi tôi dậy
Tay chưa chịu dậy ngay

Tay như người yêu nhỏ
Cần phải được chở che
Vẫn muốn được vuốt về
Bôi kem lỡ cằn khô

Tay giận tôi mấy tuần
Bó băng không ngó ngàng
Như nằm tù một chỗ
Mà còn bị xưng vù

Bây giờ lấy băng ra
Nhưng tay chưa bằng lòng
Muốn phải được chăm sóc
Không thì Tay làm eo

Buổi sáng Tay nói đau
Cần nằm nghỉ xả hơi
Tay chưa muốn mềm mại
Để tôi còn ỉ ôi

Tay giữ cứng một hồi
Cho đến khi tôi bảo
Tay yêu cho xin lỗi
Thì Tay nhịn một hồi

Nhưng Tay bảo tôi rằng
Phải chứng minh lòng thành
Không phải chỉ một ngày
Mà được lại như xưa

Tay bảo tôi sám hối
Thêm vài tuần nữa thôi
Phải kiên nhẫn đợi chờ
Đến ngày Tay tha thứ

Vài tuần hay vài tháng
Cứ phải nhẫn tâm chờ
Mong một ngày Tay chịu
Dịu dàng lại như xưa

Tôi ăn năn thương Tay
Đã bị gẫy ống xương
Tôi mong Tay quên giận
Để đời đỡ chán chường

Tôi sẽ săn sóc Tay
Nâng niu từng giây phút
Tôi người tình chung thủy
Yêu Tay suốt cuộc đời

The Questions Mom Asks - Mother's Day 2023

Mom asks if I fell
Each she sees me
Wearing a blue sling
As though she has not seen my splinted arm before

Mom asks when my father died
And the cause of his death
It has been sixteen years
But the loneliness for him is here

Mom asks where Thuan lives
And what about Mai, Hiep, and Tung?
She wishes we were not so far apart
For it doesn’t sit right in her heart

Mom asks about a grandson of hers
Is he working and perhaps with wife?
I reply he is just a young lad
Who is about to complete his high school years

Mom asks who is coming to visit
And who already came and went
Did the visit take place already
And when will we have visitors again?

Mom refers to me as Auntie
When asking my grandchild where I have gone
She must think I am too young
Not old enough to be a grandma of my own

Mom asks if I knew my uncle
Is he now gone from this earth?
Who is his wife she wonders
And how many children did they have together?

Mom asks how did it happen
That the two of us are here with each other?
Did we flee our native land together?
Do you still have the same career?

Mom says she had a dream
An invitation to visit her homeland
She was so happy to say yes
But that was just a dreamy dream

Mom asks if all of us have left
The country of our birthplace
Fleeing to a new country
Which now we call our home

Yes, Dear Mom, all of us have left
The country of our birthplace
It is right what you remember
It was not a dream at all

Dear Mom, you often state
You do not remember things
But that is just fine with me
I will hear whatever you say

Keep on asking me questions
For we have a long time to talk
It is time to shed all worries and sadness
And be happy as we celebrate Mother’s Day

Những Gì Mẹ Hỏi

Viết cho Mother’s Day 2023

Mẹ hỏi con té à

Mỗi lúc thấy tay tôi

Đang đeo cái sling xanh

Như Mẹ thấy lần đầu

Mẹ hỏi năm nào Ba mất

Vì cớ chi Ba mất

Mẹ càng nhớ Ba hơn

Những lúc thấy cô đơn

Mẹ hỏi Thuần ở đâu

Còn Hiệp, Mai, và Tùng?

Sao mỗi đứa mỗi phương

Sợ Mẹ buồn thiên thâu

Me hỏi nghề của cháu

Dạ thưa cháu còn non

Chỉ sắp ra trung học

Vậy Mẹ tưởng cháu đã vợ và con

Mẹ hỏi ai sắp đến

Và ai mới tới chơi

Khách ra đi rồi hả

Bao giờ mình lại có người viếng thăm

Mẹ hỏi cháu ngoại tôi

Cô Trân đi đâu rồi

Chắc Mẹ nghĩ tôi trẻ

Làm chi đã là Bà

Mẹ hỏi con biết bác Đệ chứ

Bác mất rồi phải không

Vợ Bác là ai nhỉ

Bác bao nhiêu người con

Mẹ hỏi tại sao Trời run rủi

Mẹ con ta tới đây

Mình đi chạy loạn chung?

Con vẫn làm nghề xưa?

Mẹ nói tối qua Mẹ nằm mơ

Có bạn rủ về quê nhà

Về Việt Nam Minh Châu Trời Đông 

Mẹ mừng nhưng rồi tỉnh

Có đúng mình đâu còn ai nữa

Mình đã đi cả nhà?

Qua đất nước thứ hai

Mẹ mừng ở với con

À đúng vậy Mẹ ơi

Mình đã đi cả nhà

Me vẫn nhớ đúng ghê

Chẳng phải Mẹ nằm mê

Mẹ ơi Mẹ hay nói

Đầu óc Mẹ hay quên

Nhưng không sao đâu Mẹ

Mẹ hỏi gì con nghe

Mẹ cứ hỏi nhiều câu

Mình nói chuyện dài lâu

Cuối tuần Mẫu Nhật ăn mừng nhé

Mong Mẹ luôn vui quên ưu sầu