Free Verse Poem

Middlemindz.blogspot.com

Color Poem

Watermelon Red-- Benjamin Moore-- 2087-20

 By Yu-jin Son

In a field of tulips I stand

The color is strong as the smell

Air waves push the flowers all together

They look like fans celebrating a victory in Manchester

The sun is bright in the horizon

The wind is blowing on my cheeks

The tulips move on the beat of my favorite songs

About glory and winning streaks

A girl stands next to me

A red scarf is around her neck

Peacefully and quietly floating in the wind

As she stands in the field and stares back at me

Celebrating quite indeed

And happy to be in the field

We feel the crowd around us

But they are nowhere to be seen

The energy is always there

And the happiness is everywhere

Joy of the fans and players

But coming from the two people present

She smells like red ripe round watermelon

She flows like air

She tasted like watermelon

When I kissed her lips

Electricity is released

In my head and into my blood

The tulips lay on the wind at ease

As we face we face the sun

Watermelon red her lips were

Watermelon scent her skin expelled

Watermelon sweet her lips tasted

As Watermelon fields that are far away

Red are all the tulips

Red is the wave of fans

Red is the scarf that warms her

Red is my vivid heart

Just one kiss of hello

And now a wave of goodbye

Celebrating a common goal

And now is the end of the rite

The field is like a stream

Of blood from my fervent dreams

Ever pumping with Exhilarating joy

Faithfull to my heart serene 

As now I stand alone

Crowds of people I still sense

With the tulips that smell of rout

Defeat from the other side of a fence.

The sun is a still quite bright light sight

In my dreams, there is never night

At this field of winners I shall wait

For another victory in the present tense


MiddleMinz.blogspot.com

Where I'm From

I Am From

I am from the all different kinds of sports fields, from dirt and grass

I am from the soft wooden floors with warm heaters

I am from the Rose of Sharon, the red maple leaves falling off the trees

I am from respect for elders and small eyes, from the Sons and the Hwangs

I am from the work-it-alls

And the never-give-ups

From respect and take one slow step at a time

I am from the cross where Jesus was crucified

I’m from cell phones with K-pop music,

I am from Kimbap heaven, kimbap and kimchie

From the trust of my parents whenever I needed it,

The lungs my father filled up with blackness to educate me and my brother

I am from my parent’s hard work

I am from tents that me and my brother made in out bedrooms,

That we lit with lamps and read books

I am from schools where teachers were

Strict

Mean

Boring

I’m from the memories of my youth  

England

Korea

Holland

England where I could smell the fresh air every morning

Korea where I felt safe

Holland where I could eat all sorts of cheese by just walking for a few minutes

I am from the English playing style

And the Korean playing style

Which are very different playing styles from each other

 I am from both sides the English and the American

I am from a small journalist club,

Going around Europe, Asia, America and South America

I am from a family that scarified many things for their next generations