I am glad to be one of the top 75 finalists. 

I would like to invite you to vote the TOP 25 immigrants.
 

the huge white Apple ———————– my mother’s favorite
black frames               ———————–                      china
a blue sky  ————————————- on the kitchen floor

A haiku a day   (So far, I’ve kept one or two haiku every day…almost 20 haiku now.

I wrote this as a tribute to Sarah Burke,
(Thank James Faulkner (a song writer and singer) for his offering to write music for this poem)

The Star : Fiorito: Happy birthday, Raymond Souster 

Reading Joe Fiorito’s column today, I smiled since it reminded me of meeting all those wonderful poets to sharing the stories about Ray.

Videos for the Tribute to Ray Souster event (Nov 22,2011)

More photos with poems 

Click to view the complete series of poems for this trip .    This ebook on Amazon

http://www.guernicaeditions.com/title.php?id=9781550713237 

I am so glad that I have this book. Elana shows us how to read these 39 fine poems through her keen sense and beautiful mind. This book will open your eyes to see the power, the beauty of poetry. “Implicate Me” is a door for all of us toward a wonderland.

Mississauga’s P.K.Page Poetry Reading Event was sponsored by the League of Canadian Poets, and Canadian Council for the Arts.  We had a wonderful event on Dec 4 2011.  Thank all the readers and audience.

fameweekly reported this event in Chinese Communities

 *** Videos for the event***

Anna Yin holds Ray's latest book "Big Smoke Blues"

• Spotlight on The Tribute to Ray Souster (Nov 22, 2011)

• Videos of The Tribute to Ray Souster event (Nov 22, 2011)

 Chris’ notes for the event

It is not easy to review a book, especially a book of poetry. I have only reviewed one book “The River’s Stone Roots” by James Deahl. The reason he asked me, I guess, is that I am a poet who knows Chinese and English.  I must confess it was a tough task and I was glad that he was happy about my review (published by Hammered Out in 2007).  Since then, we have exchanged news through email, but we haven’t met each other. Next week I will meet him and other good poets/writers: Colombo, Gatenby, Cook, Fiorito who I have heard from newspapers, at the event for Ray Souster.

I have always been fascinated by Sylvia Plath’s poems. They leave me with mysterious haunting images, and I wondered what kind of life she had. I was sad to read about her tragic suicide. I recognized that those evocative images came from her tangled mind. In that era, life became extremely difficult for her to deal with. Reality was like a rusted and dull cage, yet her mind were like stormy oceans. In a film based on her life, there was a scene where she stood alone beside the ebbing ocean.  I keep reflecting on it and have a strong impression that she wanted to join the ebb tide. Last year, when Wilda Morris (a USA poet) asked for submissions for a persona poem from the perspective of someone in history, I immediately thought of Plath and wrote this poem. (It won wildamorris.blogspot poetry challenge for 2010 Feb.)

Insomnia
–empathy for Sylvia Plath

I cut an echoless love
in pale moonlight.

Ashes of stars slip
from my face.

You remain in a secret garden.
My shadow clings to the splitting wall.

The taste of blood edges
up my bleeding fingers.

Water rises on a lake
and the moon drowns.

Two years ago I read Hughes’ “Full Moon and Little Frieda”. I was impressed by the shy artist that Hughes created by his words. The image of the moon lingered in my head and I fell in love with it. I began to compose my poem and wished to bring dead poets back, like recalling the moon. I wrote this poem to remember Hughes and Li Po.  I heard that Li Po loved the moon so much that when he was old, one night when he had been drinking on a boat, seeing the reflection of the moon, he reached out to embrace it, and fell into the river.  People said it was a happy death for him. (This poem won the 2010 Poem-A-Day contest in public libraries of Cambridge, Ontario)

After Reading Ted Hughes’ “Full Moon and Little Frieda”

I fall in love with you, Moon,
seeing you step back like a timid artist.
Listening to the night,
you come out, a pail lifted.

Moon, they are gone.
They left you watching over the river.
How many years since?
And you watch the small village
becoming a floating island.

Among rows of windows,
the night flows, and I’m wide awake.
How much I want to imitate Li Po,
dancing with his white sleeves,
a humming from his burning heart ,
night after night inviting you for a drink!
The wine never drained,
yet he drowned in the silver river.

Moon, lift your bucket,
come out once more.
I won’t make a sound.

 I know these two poems are in very different styles. Reid and other poets said I had a very dynamic style and authentic voice. Sometimes I just write and have no idea who I write like. But Reid and Terry told me, “You are far more like Emily Dickinson than you are like Sylvia Plath”

More stories: My book launch show file

Story Behind “online: i found true love!”