The flower blooms as the Universe

a million years for a flower to
unveil the art of divine creationto us
- fragrance, shades, curves, texture
and minute ingenious designs -
filamens, pistils, stagmens, pollen.
orchids, roses, crocuses, geraniums
petal by petal, inch by inch, second by second,
sun and moon, moon and sun a million other
universes accompany the bloom as it slowly,
surely digests the world to show us its beauty

as the bloom crowns us all at the apex of
its wonder - a million other universes too
have been born and move inch by inch towards
achieving a full bloom in the heavens

Flowers are Teachers

Flowers are teachers
------------------------
red, purlple, pink, orange
a million shades they bow
twist, turn, spiral, twirl, swirl,
out of nature's blessed hands to
liven up this realm an inspiration
to dancers to tap the talents in their system
for the steps to take audience's heart
the way bees and butterflies
extract heaven's juices from their
folds that always springs a frenzied
fluttering dance of estacsy

by john tiong chunghoo

Sandra Fowler (6/2/2006 3:32:00 AM) I can see your flowers dancing tuned to the music of the spheres. Lovely poem. Kind regards, Sandra

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
----------------------------------------------
a squirrel runs
across frosty evening
on a plain of white
carrying a cosy warmth
i would love to have
light greyish coat
impeecably patched
and stitched for the season

time runs across space
mindless as a clock which
has forgotten to crawl
everywhere the trees gently
whisper sweet nothings
and cavort away the evening
baring skeletons and bones to
the heavens to swear their love

snow falls like mannas onto
a million stretched hands
that grovel to receive every
trace of divine providence

breathless, breathless
the white glides and bounces
in an evening that holds onto
everything like forgotten time

by John Tiong ChungHoo

Theodora Steinbrueck-Onken (11/9/2007 3:37:00 AM)
I like it a lot, i really do! Theo

A Better Resurrection

A Better Resurrection
--------------------------
there is a larger life than life,
my life and i am glad to be a part
i am a torso that speaks out
when the water dries up
i would beat a step out
when the axis ceases to turn
i too would beat a step out
when the plants all make their exit
i too would follow suit
this creature called earth- the trees, river,
air, humans, animals -the laws that
govern it run this physique too
god turns the earth and pumps our hearts

Ravi Chandran (4/25/2007 11:32:00 PM) that was really a great poem. i really enjoyed it. please be kind to read my poems and feel free to comment it. it will be very useful for me my address: www.poemhunter.com/ravi-chandran thank you my friend.

Jim Foulk (12/16/2006 11:28:00 AM) very well done john. you do write good poems, keep it up.

Sandra Fowler (10/29/2006 4:31:00 AM) Inspired by Sylvia Plath, but written in your own unique style. Very eloquent, John. Kindest regards, Sandra

Meredith Creek (12/15/2005 4:35:00 PM) I really, really like this poem. I can FEEL every word...nice job! Meredith

Debbie Kean (11/26/2005 7:27:00 PM) This poem is very deep - I truly like theway you express yourself.

A House Upon the Height

I love this poem too which I posted on Poemhunter.com

A House upon the Height
-------------------------------
an abandoned house
saps the spirit with its
nagging and chilling emptiness,
a black hole that sucks out
the shimmering warm sun to
throw shadows and ice over
the hazy lanes of imagination

a broken empty house on
the height echoes relentless
gloom and tales of woe through
each of its missing chilling window panes
missing pages of a horror story that solicit
entries from the haunted mind
of an innocent who has lost his
way in the dark of night

the overgrown grass strays
haphazardly and almost in a haste
to doors, windows, walls and
collapsing roof to claim its static prey
they wake up a body of monks (ghost bumps)
with their reverberating aum aum chants
that have the negative effects of sending shivers
down one's spine

a torn and soiled jacket strewn
across the menacing garden
a little baby's drum, holed and beaten out
of shape by the unkind weather
carry with them broken dreams

an empty house wears itself out
sooner than an occupied house
a world shunning loner, who eventually
descends into despair, a wretched soul losing
all its charm and love

Ben Gieske (8/26/2008 7:53:00 AM) This poem is open to multiple meanings. I can read it as referring to one house (the sucking in effect) , or to two houses (the second one with forces echoing outward) . I like the “lazy lanes of imagination” and the vivid images that follow in the outdoors around this house.

Callie Carroll (8/10/2008 4:28:00 PM) Excellent! Thank you for including your source of inspiration; I too use this technique (reading is my fuel) . What a perfect way to describe the way a decrepit house captures us, 'saps the spirit with its nagging and chilling emptiness.' You communicate perfectly the despair.

A Celestial Stage

I really enjoy writing this poem which I titled The Celestial Stage.
It elicited very good review when I posted it on Poemhunter.com.

A Celestial Stage
-------------------
A grandiose theatre
stage our universe
The sky its backdrop,
The twinkling stars,
Its white angels
The Moon its alluring princess
And the Sun its master of ceremony
Honouring everything with a name
Giving each created a character and form
Pampering the windows of our souls
The lightnings and thunders
Are the drums and strobelights
Punctuating the climaxes and suspense
Of these celestial histronics
Raging through our heavens
And the cumulous clouds the scene parters
The gentle winds are to show directions
And the rains a bonus to calm
The audience's nerves and boost fertility
To beget flowers, greenery and everything lovable!

Comments by friends at Poemhunter.com:


Ben Gieske (8/26/2008 7:46:00 AM) Full of active and imaginative images feeding the senses and imagination. I like the ideas you create; ex., “the rains a bonus to calm” (very soothing) , and “Honouring everything with a name” (a great idea) .

Fred Babbin (8/23/2008 11:09:00 AM) Not my way of writing, but it's well done. I like it.

Penny Hemans (11/5/2007 3:55:00 AM) the contrast between our planet and the universe is superb john.. opens out a whole plethora of thoughts... xxxPenny

Cheryl Moyer (7/20/2007 10:55:00 AM) john - You paint a gorgeuos world indeed! I wish I could hang it on my wall like a Picasso! Check out my 'Birth bangs' sometime and see if you like it. thanks for this - Cheryl

Robert Howard (1/26/2007 9:13:00 AM) A lovely and gracious poem and a powerful affirmation of life. I love the driving metaphor of the universe as the greatest of all performances. It flows like beautiful music.
nn mn (6/16/2006 2:04:00 PM) Nicely woven - good optics.

Duncan Wyllie (4/14/2006 10:01:00 AM) Lovely imagery, colourful languge, thankyou for sharing your art, Love Duncan

Elya Thorn (1/2/2006 10:56:00 AM) Amazing imagery, 'Celestial stage' I never heard this word combiantion but now.... A very very good poem!

Gina PrettyBrownEyes (12/20/2005 3:50:00 PM) i love your descriptions and i like the idea of this poem. it was interesting

Chionh Zhe Wen (12/18/2005 7:19:00 AM) Very beautiful poem, I love it a lot

John Keats

This is said to be one of John Keats' best poem:

Ode to Autumn
-----------------

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Biography of John Keats
(1775 - 1821)

John Keats was born on October 31, 1775 in London. His parents were Frances Jennings and Thomas Keats. John Keats was educated at Enfield School, which was known for its liberal education. While at Enfield, Keats was encouraged by Charles Cowden Clarke in his reading and writing. After the death of his parents when he was fourteen, Keats became apprenticed to a surgeon. In 1815 he became a student at Guy's Hospital. However, after qualifying to become an apothecary-surgeon, Keats gave up the practice of Medicine to become a poet. Keats had begun writing as early as 1814 and his first volume of poetry was published in 1817. In 1818 Keats took a long walking tour in the British Isles that led to a prolonged sore throat, which was to become a first symptom of the disease that killed his mother and brother, tuberculosis. After he concluded his walking tour, Keats settled in Hampstead. Here he and Fanny Brawne met and fell in love. However, they were never able to marry because of his health and financial situation. Between the Fall of 1818 and 1820 Keats produces some of his best known works, such as La Belle Dame sans Merci and Lamia. After 1820 Keats' illness became so severe that he had to leave England for the warmer climate of Italy. In 1821 he died of tuberculosis in Rome. He is buried there in the Protestant cemetery. ..