Fifteen Years

Saigon 2000
Saigon. 2000

to my “LL” group

It’s been fifteen years
And time must leave its marks

The crow’s feet in our smiles
The wrinkles on our faces
The not as shining eyes
The beer bellies, big or small

And it is okay
Since time must do its work

And it is okay
as long as we are beautiful the way we care for others,
we’re shining with our dreaming thoughts,
our hearts are full of vivid memories
of the years we worked together
of the beautiful moments we experienced-
birthday parties,
nights at the beach,
day trip at the Water park
at work, at play

And it is okay
Since we are all the time beings
blown away as time flies by
like a piece of charred paper
hovering over the chimney
in the harsh winter months

And it is okay

Jan 1st 2017

Will the new year bring in
new dreams and new hopes
as bright as the Christmas tree
to lighten the weary souls
as deep as thousands of incarnations old?

The memories of 2016
are merely patches or spots
in the infinite timeline
however beautiful they were
or painful as they made you endure

The enlightened voice is still calling out
from over two thousand years past
I listened and liberated myself
to become as light as a snowflake
twirling in the air

Let’s empty 2016
And paint the new year with a brightest color
you could ever visualize
And start the new year fresh off
as it’s rolling in.

Happy New Year!

Anniversary 2016

after Rebecca Hazelton

My husband writes me eloquent haiku

My husband in the backyard
Watering each plant for three minutes
His kind spirit communicates to the roses, the apples, the avocados, the bougainvillea

My husband surrounded with thyme, basil, tomatoes, parmigiano cheese
Cooking chicken parmigiana in the kitchen
Remembering his beloved Italian-born father

My husband carefully checking the beams, measuring the paintings
Gracefully hung up The Kiss, the Terrace of a Cafe at Night

My husband washes my car
The soap bubbles sparkle with his pure love, his thoroughness
Also washes away my insecurities, my inferior feelings
Revealing my true colors in a rainbow spectrum

My husband gazes at me with his soulful blue eyes
Which forever sends me to ecstasy.


Photo Art by Temy Hoang

Sometimes the sky is so blue
It embodies all hopes in the universe

Many a time the joy is so overwhelming
You even find your competitors pleasant

Once in a while the pain is so unbearable
No tears can ever relieve it

At times you come across a poem so deep
Not one individual soul can ever grasp it

Forever you are so beautiful
I can never love any one else in like manner

Tháng Chín (September)

Tháng chín se lạnh
Những đồi cỏ vàng mượt như nhung
Nghe đâu đây mùi thơm cinnamon
Mùi rừng phong đỏ vàng rực rỡ

Tháng chín xa xưa tràn môi bầu sữa mẹ
Những táng cây phượng vĩ đã không còn đỏ rực góc sân trường
Tiếng súng nơi chiến trường nổ theo lời ru ơi hời của mẹ

Tháng chín của sự sinh
Những nụ cười in trên bọt nước biển Vũng Tàu trắng xóa,
Hay ẩn sau những trái su su nặng trĩu của bà ngoại ở Đà Lạt

Tháng chín cũng bắt đầu của sự diệt
Bao nhiêu nước mắt đã chảy đầy sông ngòi biển cả
Giọt nước mắt nào sẽ lăn lần cuối ra đại dương nghìn trùng

viết cho tháng sinh nhật 2016


for my birthday month

Chilly September. The doorway to a new season. I could smell the aroma of cinnamon emanating from the pastries when walking by the bakery this morning.

It was in September many yeas ago that my mouth was full of mom’s breast milk. The flamboyant was not blooming in red anymore. The shooting in the battlefield shook the lullaby hovering over my cradle.

September, the genesis of many things in life. I remember the shining smiles carved in the white waves at Vung Tau beach. The giggling by the chayote vine of my grandma in Dalat. The warm eyes of the little girl enlivened by the candlelight lit inside the pigeon-shaped lantern during the full moon festival.

September, the onset of death and decay and deterioration. How many tears I have shed and filled up rivers and oceans. Which one I wonder will be the last to roll into the deep blue ocean.