A Poet
a poet knows nothing best than a seer, nay neither
touches like a magician nor prays like a monk, yet!
feel the tremendous heart that breathes and sees the
oozing shadow of the light, a poet lives
Oh! what wonder! each word exists where
every poet has come to paste, as the world
turns its page every color the pen refreshes
as the poet begins to tell, every feeling makes it
to fulfill, though in every edge there is always some
sad stories that everybody could feel and relate
a poet always wins in every ink of a pen, there is
always pain, turning others' gain, the end
holds on to reign, and the heart of the immortal fight
has just begun, transcend beyond it rainbow's
plain, wherein every poetry the dying soul comes
to raise the wonderful surprises of life
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Tale of the Seafarer
waves of penny reach to the seashore, wind of
hands calling to land in the air, perhaps the sun
would not set it down, for the lonely cub waited
tell the dawn stand for high
as the night has touches the ground the birds
want to fly in the sky, goggling the wealth the
Seafarer, want to standby, sweetly and swiftly take
the apathy off the sand, reaches the shore to land
look the pocket full of Barr, Denar, Dollar make
no sense happiness pokes to say and dirty lady make
the way, though money made things crazy; as the
club night seems so lonely in a day
all seems flying in the breeze, floating like a seagull,
seeing even the eye is blind, hearing without
touching where to hide, puzzle every move,
showing to know the way the whiten clouds in the
clear sky
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poem by Antonio Liao
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My deep Slumber.....
in the great field that a thousand wonders i lie my
head; seeing of nothing for nobody understand; i
kept on shouting but only a feeling of distress tangle
my heart, as the world of ecstasy wonder to my
deepest blues of my experience, responded to my
inquires that I am not a loser
my tears hope to see the emptiness of my heart,
waking me up to find the real me in this given world;
now that all seems the light is waiting me to touch,
and my eagerness find the star has limit my vision
of looking in the future of my step, i repose and say
to thy Almighty Lord, thank you
leave me not to my deepest blues slumber of my life;
the way i receive is nothing most than a hope of
love and a care that leads me to your eternal kingdom,
as a wishing star of a child waiting the splendid light
to gallops my face, till time i breathe no more in my
soul and passion my call Lord and ask nothing from
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poem by Antonio Liao
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A Firefly that scatter the sky
saved the mother earth, and witness the glooming
sky, as its dawning morn invites to come; calling the
humming birds laid the sweeten humid morning
midst of the trunk it’s lay
yet! look up the proud birds sleeplessly watch the
roar of the blue sea, something they want to whisper
in our deaf ears that can’t say, with the sparkles of
the swing of branches, neither the harmony of
wonderful song gives hearty melody in the tips of our
dream of a lonely yesterday
come as the leaf invites every heart to dance and
touch every journey of volatile immortality of each
lips and wonder the genes offer to whistle our hope of
eternity
let it every paint color our dream of firefly in ages we
live and forward that hibernation to wake our lasting
beautiful light shine, in the dark; for tomorrow is the
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Park 'n go
as life lives in a part of profane world, the immortality of
soul, struggle the sting of death, in a boundless, limit of
earthly pleasure
like a crystal dropp of sweat, drain in every veins that
gives, each strength the mighty force to carry the weight
beyond its loads of flesh to reach where the soul sprouted
like Lilies of joy in my immortality of soul
life as we take is but, a journey of happiness, waiting where
the final destination it brings, for every life experienced lives
a memory to hold until, life comes to an end, of where it is just
a park and go as it would tell
make each moment to remember, for anything it would bring
is the one that the heart will live, until in heaven it depart, let
the wisdom of time comes, to see the dawning days that
my soul leaves my human body, for thy eternity cloth me, the
day of immortality where a continuous life of an endless free
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poem by Antonio Liao
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A journey of a Thousand Miles
a foot that lift high can be the first step that reach the
highest pick of the sky, as the eyes move in every
distance that may cause envy the sweet tasteless
journey of the past, who have come into the most
amazing fruit of today's compassion of knowing the
path in the season of spring
the menu of life experience, solidify in the harmony
of time, and the wall of the present entangle; the
cab wave of the past, you may not found the answer
in a melting snow, nor the falling rain to cleanse
your swollen face, the wounded flesh mark the
beginning of what life should be lived
as the truth, venture the birth of reason, one has to
open the call to face of what are clouds above each
knee, follow always the stream that flows and the
river that goes in the vast sea and ocean of what is
reality, for in every foot become a step towards the
gate of maturity the isle of every dream, hull the
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poem by Antonio Liao
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The mirror
what wonder you give, where everybody, looks at you with
a very smiling beauty, a feeling of something, where
every one have never experience being one in your
dream of ecstasy
you have though us to looks young, dazzling charm, where
every hearts be calmed, you always play like an angel, who
brings us to the wonderland
telling the truth is what you want, even an ugly duckling you
turn into handsome one, in your might, the kingdom becomes
lonely. such alluring power you posses, comes to envy
where even death you deceive, life it gives you preserve, and
turned terrible happening into a happy one, in every home you
are there sheltering their faces as it gone, your the magic
where everybody wants, in the land we fondly called
Annabel Lee
life is a mirror, where we wanted too, of the Narcissus's we all
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Of delicate poems
These poems speak their minds
Be it grief
Be it bliss
But what matters most is that these poems
Have minds of their own
And they do not just listen, and absorb
Or absurd, but what matters most of all
I repeat
For emphasis
For you who like to see
The stone saints along the pedestal
Remembered as you say
By the ravages of the times,
Is that
These poems have minds of their own
And they have mouths that speak,
So delicately, that they have threads
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Medical Tourism
Wonting to find the extended life, a wondrous
tourist to find a new beginning; as each precious life
gifted to share, in a distance soil you will feel, the
dawning morning of today
come and take your table, the party is going on, all
share a hand to the scalpel you lay, in the doctor
takes no mercy, closing the door scattered in the
floor, waiting the “WILL” to give, the point of death
and life has to go, in the pocket though it’s empty
wake! up its time to breathe, you’ll on your way,
the night comes with out seeing the light, as it passed
the sting of a needle bleeds of a living grave,
enthroned in your head, where name no more than of
illusion of life
enough penny makes a smile in every heart revive,
the whispering soul shouts the extended beginning of
a new moment of existence, sing the best and loud
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poem by Antonio Liao
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Eloquent Quill
wish the time may change the twine of thane,
oh! wonderful star; the shooting star, please
wait, i want to see you through, touching the
ground and shout
come little voice, the quite moment sings the
Berry tree, as it blew the Cherry blossom leaves
in the midst sky of beautiful morning of Fuji, oh!
please make me strong as the Balboa tree of
Africa, waiting the coming dried season of each
year for you to see, my strong leaves
ink the beautiful feather of quill in your everlasting
heart forever my eloquent mind of today, lay all the
truth the essence of this wonderful memory of
history, alas! it comes again, for this hour leave
something that lead us to remember the passing
horizon of what is yesterday's a far
my words may come again like precious jewels
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poem by Antonio Liao
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