The Scent That Held Me

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The scent of my mother
was never a single thing.

It was rice steam lifting the lid at dusk,
cotton warmed by the iron,
a trace of soap clinging to her wrists
like a promise she never spoke aloud.

It lived in the hollow of her neck,
where the day rested when she bent to listen,
and in the quiet sweetness of skin
that had learned endurance before softness.

Sometimes it was rain caught in her hair,
sometimes camphor, sometimes nothing at all—
only the warmth of being gathered close
without being asked why.

Even now, years loosened from her hands,
that scent finds me unguarded:
on a stranger’s coat,
in the fold of clean linen,
in air that remembers love without words.

It does not say stay.
It does not say go.
It only says:
you were held,
you were known,
you were loved
before you knew the name of love.

Mind the Grind

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Up with the dawn, the kettle sings,
The alarm’s a bleedin’ crime,
Grey light crawls in through grubby blinds,
It’s Monday—back on time.

The bus wheezes up the High Street bend,
Rain slicks the pavements thin,
A hundred coats, a thousand sighs,
We shove and all pile in.

The Tube breathes hot, the papers flap,
“’Ere, mind the gap,” they cry,
Dreams folded neat in plastic bags,
We stand, we sweat, we try.

By nine the clock’s already bored,
The grind’s got teeth, it bites,
But tea’ll come round and jokes’ll spark—
We’ll nick small wins by night.

吳藻答青玲 · 謎中謎

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你問月色照誰顏，
我偏不指，怕月羞顛。
花氣無聲侵夜袖，
是誰心熱，使露先甜？

燈前一笑，非笑亦非，
唇未開時，意已微垂。
解得此中空白處，
便知閒處最相思。

雲低水暗，各自留形，
波不言情，卻把情迎。
魚動非游，是心輕顫，
一躍之間，暗合幽盟。

世人逐字換金聲，
我獨聽風過句行。
那風不寫名與姓，
只在行間，慢慢生。

琴止三聲，指尚留溫，
夜深不問，誰是知音人。
竹影一搖，衣紋欲亂，
未入幽夢，夢已臨門。

你若猜我笑中謎，
我便不說，任你疑。
疑到一線將斷處，
正是相逢未碰時。

You ask whose face the moonlight wears—
I do not point; the moon would blush.
Blossom-scent slips soundless into night sleeves:
whose warmth taught the dew to sweeten first?

Before the lamp, a smile—neither yes nor no;
my lips stay closed, yet meaning leans.
Solve the silence between these lines
and you’ll know where leisure learns to ache.

Clouds lower, water darkens—each keeps form;
the waves won’t speak, yet welcome longing.
The fish does not swim—it trembles,
and in that leap a private pact is struck.

The world trades syllables for ringing gold;
I listen only to the wind between words.
It signs no names, claims no titles—
it grows, slowly, in the margins.

The qin falls quiet after three warm notes;
deep night asks no one’s name.
Bamboo shadows sway, a robe almost loosens—
the dream has reached the door before we sleep.

If you dare to guess the riddle in my smile,
I will not answer. Let you linger there.
For when the thread is thinnest, nearly torn,
that is the moment before we touch.

The Silmarils

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In star‑wrought crystal burned a living fire,
A light unbroken since the world was young.
No forge but spirit shaped that secret pyre,
No hand but one from whom all songs are sprung.

They shone like prayers sealed in a holy stone,
Too pure for oath or grief to hold or bind.
Yet hearts were stirred, and kingdoms overthrown,
For beauty fierce enough to unmake mind.

Still in the dark, their hidden radiance gleams—
One in the sea, one in the deathless sky,
One in the earth where sorrow folds its dreams,
Each guarded now by silence none defy.

So let their light remain beyond all will—
A shrine of fire the world remembers still.

The Courtesan Replies (after Rilke)

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Your sun prepares a gold within my hair,
That outshines every laboured alchemy;
Yet know that light you praise is mine to wear —
Its heat no mortal art can ever see.

My brows, like bridges stretched in silent grace,
Will guard the peril in my watchful eyes;
Strange tides you claim are stirred by secret place
Are mine alone — their ebb and rise their prize.

If men must envy even my dog’s repose
Where this unflecked hand regally may lie,
Let them — for fire has never kissed these glows,
Nor can their flames reach that which will not die.

And boys from noble homes will come undone —
My mouth’s allure, not poison, binds each one.

燈下笑意

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詩中月色，你說是誰的臉？
花間暗香，又藏了幾重念？
燈下我笑，不答亦似有言，
你若解了，便知我心自閒。

雲影掩水，波光映你意，
魚躍不語，卻懂我心底戲。
世人忙著追名逐利，我獨愛
字裡行間的風，暗渡情深意。

琴聲三弄，夜深誰共？
竹影搖曳，心事暗送。
我一顰一笑，皆有深意，
你敢猜透，便同我共幽夢。

The moonlight in your verse—whose face do you see?
The hidden fragrance among blossoms—how many layers of longing?
I smile beneath the lamp, my silence seems to speak,
If you unravel it, you’ll know my heart rests free.

Clouds shadow the water, waves reflect your desire,
The leaping fish say nothing, yet understand the play in my heart.
While the world chases fame and fortune, I alone cherish
The winds between the lines, carrying secret depths of meaning.

The qin plays thrice—who keeps me company in the deep night?
Bamboo shadows sway, my thoughts sent quietly.
Each frown, each smile, carries hidden intent,
Dare you decipher it, and you shall wander my secret dreams.

Desire

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The air is thick, it clings, it waits,
A heat that pools, unmarked by fates.
My skin remembers, soft and slow,
The pulse before the rivers flow.

A tide within me rises slight,
It does not call, it does not bite.
It curves around each quiet place,
A secret weight, a tender trace.

I feel it spread, a muted flame,
A humming note with no one’s name.
Each breath a tide against my chest,
A velvet swell that will not rest.

I do not grasp, I do not press,
I let the moment slowly bless.
It coils, it sinks, it makes me lean,
A hidden stream, a silver sheen.

The hush of want, the softened gleam,
It slides through senses, like a dream.
Not hunger, not demand, not rush,
But readiness in whispered hush.