The wide grey sandy beach is strewn with dark seaweed In front of a guest house built on a boulder. The pungent, salty air lifts the half-staff flag For the victims of the recent random violence By a lone shooter. Come into the guest house to share a warm cup of tea And drink words … Continue reading Guest House
Author: yennayi
I was born and raised in the South Korea and now I live in Massachusetts for the past 15 years after having lived in many different parts of the world. I work as a psychotherapist in my private practice. I just finished writing my memoir, "Ring of Fire" and waiting to be published.
River’s Tears
My son died on April 23, 1990.He was 20, a sophomore at Amherst College, Amherst, MA A knock on the door in the late evening, and two officers in uniformWith the message shut closed all my doors—the evening got darker,Darker than the black hole. I was thrown into the Mariana trench. My love was torn … Continue reading River’s Tears
Spring Abundance
Slow, steady rain all day long fills potholes, Birdbaths and rain barrels. Between breaks from the rain, I planted basil, thyme, and red dahlias Lyn gave me next red tulips from Louise, And red zinnias from Alice. Tulips are gone by, lilac bush and columbines Are soaking up the rain under the grey sky, Flooding … Continue reading Spring Abundance