3 selections of 31416kungfu short poems


The Hunt of Night

When the night comes,
my heart pounds, my
face turns pale.  I hear
screeching,  I hear
voices.  I feel afraid by
the coming of darkness.

I shall see my death coming

I shall see my death
coming when my wrinkles
make me tired and my
muscles are as stiff as
a stick.  I shall see for
the last time the beautiful
eyes of my children.  My
regret will be forgotten
but to see the sunshine
of the world one last time
As my eyes close with
a smile on my face.


I melt a solid and I see it melt into liquid. I dry the the hot melted liquid and I ponder it until it cools down and becomes once again a solid. I hold the blunt solid and I hammer it until it is a refined blade. I polish the sharp blade until it reflects like a mirror. I craft a wooden handle and join it too the sharp solid. I imagine this sword being held by a knight. But  metal rusts and the blade dies. Rust laughs at the work I gave birth to with my hands. Rust consumes all metals and then rust stabs you in the heart.