Writing Verse

Writing Verse 



By: Philip Kent Church



It is such a wonder, to write in verse.

Learning to write metrical, is much put.

A spell one falls under, could be a curse,

To wax poetical, with measured foot.


One finds in writing, there’s more than rhyming;

One makes a start, and inscribes a keen line.

It can be exciting, but takes timing,

Wrought from the heart, and recorded real fine.


Make a good showing, writing prolific;

Give more than seems, with all of your writing.

Reveal your knowing, something terrific,

Speak from your dreams, can be exciting.


There is no strife, only the elation,

Bringing to life, your own mind’s creation!

Philip Kent Church
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012

Hometown Of Wind

Hometown Of Wind


I was born in
the hometown of wind,
where it is windy constantly.
Throughout dark nights/ and bright days;
where meteor streaks across even
with a strong blowing,
breaks into glistening lakes  
on the colorful ground around.

Migratory birds are confused easily:
Winter and summer are very short
While warmth is long,
Seasons cycle unusually;
Homesick seawater goes upstream frequently,
assisted by the wind
to embrace the snow mountain
and fall in a serene sleep ahead.

There grains grow so quickly,
golden sunlight in the field
satisfies/ all tongues and granaries.
The rest of the time people read poems, 
boil the wine* and laugh joyfully,
ride the wind to roam distantly. 


There women’s hair dances around
like blossoming fireworks/ or flowers;
There blooms are longer than elsewhere,
no disconsolate lovers.
Tears waft far away soon 
after they stream
and are a rainfall to moisten desires. 


Wind shuttles everywhere,
seeds, longings, dreams
and perfume of lives,
as dandelions root anywhere,
grow in an instant
into what they once expected.


Eternal souls wander with the wind
among the timeless future, reality and past
like shadows following the moonlight––
neither part in life,
nor separation by death,
for/ it is the hometown of wind.



*Boiling the wine is a custom in ancient China and even in some places of current China, which intends to warm the wine. After boiling the wine, some fruits such as greengages and preserved plums are added into the hot wine. People wait to drink the wine until the tart flavour of the fruits disappears.

Min Katherine Liu
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Spring 2016

2016年4月15日


风的故乡



我生在风的故乡，
那里的风吹个不休，
不论黑夜，还是白昼。
风一大流星就划落，
碎成湖泊，
在斑斓大地上闪烁。

候鸟在那里会迷失初衷：
寒暑很短，温暖很长，
四季轮回得不同寻常；
思乡的海水常逆流而上，
借助风的力量，
拥抱着雪山，睡得安详。


那里的谷物生长很快，
金灿灿的一地阳光，
满足舌头和粮仓。
余下的时光，
人们读诗、煮酒、欢笑，
骑上风儿，去远方流浪。


那里的女人头发飞扬，
象绽放的烟火，或者花朵；
那里的花期也比别处长，
爱情里没有惆怅。
泪水一流出就飘走，
化成雨滴再滋润渴望。


风穿梭在每一个地方，
种子、思念和梦想，
还有生命的芬芳，
蒲公英一样 随处生根，
须臾间，
长成自己想要的模样。


永恒的灵魂也随风徜徉
在无尽的未来、现实和过往，
象影子追随着月光——
无关生离，
也无惧死别，

因为那里是 风的故乡。

Snow In April

Snow In April


Snow in April,
white moths in the sky
fly willfully
in the bright sunshine.
Mood of the passerby
with a yellow blossoming tree nearby
swung by
the traceless fairies in delight！

Snow in April,
fine salt over the soil,
disappears quietly,
where gathering starlings stand by. 
Hurried heart on spring journey,
comforted by
the cool
before the coming of the night.

Min Katherine Liu
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Spring 2016



2016年4月15日


四月里的雪


四月里的雪，
空中白蛾般
任性扑飞，
明亮的阳光下，
摇晃行人心情
和路旁一树黄花，
这无迹可寻的快乐精灵！


四月里的雪，
象细盐覆盖土地，
悄悄消融处
八哥停落聚集。
清凉舒缓
春日旅途的匆忙心灵，
而夜幕尚未降临。

Pose In Spring

Pose In Spring

Babbling brook winds its way from
Snow mountain to ocean;
Straight tree stretches tender fingers,
tries to touch the sky;
Blushed bud nods in the sunshine,
dreams of blooming youthfulness;
Humming bee kisses blossom,
discusses their honey future;
Warm wind wanders about field,
lives begin to dance
one after another.
However, I can’t dance together
but sigh aside.
I haven’t found my own pose
in this busy spring.

Min Katherine Liu
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Spring 2016

I Have A Bloom

I Have A Bloom March 25, 2016


I have a bloom,
a despairing beauty,
full-blown solely 
in the cloistered valley.
A blossoming tree holding
countless purplish candles,
kindles all twinkling stars in
the deep blue heaven.

With a cool breeze at dawn,
dance and smile, softly,
corolla is quivering;
Sun bickers through the noon,
flower shadows are rambling,
bright and dark thoughts of mine,
hide among them.

Sparks in my heart,
let the sky flame.
spread our passion,
twilight is glowing,
the Magnolia’s spring!
While night sprinkles come,
tearful petals rain,
the floating perfume,
my wistful spirit,
torn away
to a black cold dream.

Mist hovers in the morning,
lie in riotous profusion, 
the withered purple,
the smothering beauty,
extends peacefully in 
the solitary spring.
I have a bloom,
enough to console 
my lifetime.

Min Katherine Liu
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2016



我有一场花 2016年3月25日


我有一场花，
绝望般美丽，
独自盛开
在无尘的山谷里。
一树繁花擎起
无数粉紫色蜡炬，
点亮深蓝夜空里
所有闪烁的星。


在黎明的微飔里
轻舞浅笑，
花冠儿颤颠；
午后日光变幻, 
花影零乱，
是我明明暗暗的心事，
隐藏在其间。

用心火点燃云天，
浓情蔓延，
灼热了黄昏，
这紫玉兰的春天！
而夜雨降临，
花瓣含泪飘散，
暗香无边，
是我怅惘的灵魂，
去往幽冷的梦园。


白雾迷离了清晨，
看落英缤纷，紫红遍地，
窒息般美丽，
静静铺展
在寂寥的春天。
我有一场花，
足以安慰 
我一世尘缘。

Under Sun

Under Sun
Petrarchan Sonnet


The Sun proceeds the mountain’s sky in kind;

As long traveled a trail is trekked to gain.

A life prevailed upon, journeyed to feign,

Like some ancient clockwork refused to wind.

The whole of truth, with which we hold in mind,

It’s what we base ourselves upon, be lain.

We must remember all that may pertain,

Or find we are among the deaf and blind.


As like Autumn’s dead leaves discard the trees,

And mountain peaks resound without reply.

We live our lives thru all with aim to please,

But there remains, of hope, hopeful retry.

To gain the chance to change, as like the breeze;

Be warmed by Sun, upon which we rely.

Philip Kent Church
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012

THE TORTURED VERSES

THE TORTURED VERSES  
A poem in 5 quatrains
By: Philip Kent Church © 2015
~
Here I am, all that I am . . . such as I am.

I live in boxes, of width, breadth and height,

Following fate’s clues, with all of my might;

Searching endlessly for posterity’s directions,

Working tirelessly, to make the connections.


Looking in between lines, a meaningful gleaning,

As my heart pines to discover, any real meaning.

Is the sum that’s greater than its parts really love?

Within all that exists, is someone there up above?


Life’s many components, and terrible persistence,

Interfere with notions of plains of higher existence.

Beyond empirical reality, it seems there remains a part;

Is it an accident of consciousness, is it love, God or art?


After all, are such thoughts necessary or essential?

Is it folly to waste time on things so existential?

Perhaps our reach exceeds our height attempting such endeavors;

Like a machine trying to operate itself, by pulling the right levers.


Esoteric pursuits can devour souls like ravenous cancers.

Art can drive madness in minds questing for the answers;

But when bereft of love, what we long for can be curses.

That’s when we inscribe life’s poetry, in tortured verses!


Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012

The New River

The New River

White water churns, as the New River flows;

Currents like dreams, swirl all of the day long, 

Sun in sky burns, down the course as it goes;

All fed by streams, from the mountains so strong.


Winding it’s way, thru the palisade flanks.

Born from it’s source, with majesty imbued.

Whiling the day, angling fish by green banks;

Northbound by course, mountain range’s subdued.


The river shines, from the zenith Sun’s glare.

The willows bend, o’er the deep and still.

Whip-or-wills pine, the river doesn’t care;

Just holds it trend, keeps going as it will.


Old and arcane, it’s life to deliver;

Never to wane, love of the New River.

Philip Kent Church
Virginia Tech
WVArts Solitude
Winter 2012