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Four Poems

Four Poems S A M O E U R only mothers will embrace sorrows I wade through solitude to the cottage where we used to gather to drink rice wine, enjoying false peace. I sit under the same palm-leaf roof, gaze at your chairs but see no one, hear only your laughs. Here, it's like everywhere else-- deserted, villages of black roofless houses; I don't see even one dog. The explosions of mines, the roaring of heavy artillery from frontier to frontier, shake every grain of pollen from the champa flowers. No places to hide, no skies under which to rest; and the moaning of children and the cries of mothers out of blazing fire across the land, And your bodies, brothers, shielding us from the bullets, and your blood splashing over our Mother, induce my soul to ever worship jasmine and lotus blossoms. Apsaras (Celestial Dancers), Banteay Samre Temple, Angkor Complex, 2002 Photograph by Richard Murai water buffalo cobra and the prisoner of war for Gregory Ann Smith Work, work--hacking at trees, uprooting them, clearing bushes, transplanting rice, no time to rest. At noon, alone, as I cleared the canebrake, a beautiful black cobra opened his hood before me, http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Four Poems

U Sam Oeur
Manoa , Volume 16 (1) – Apr 30, 2004
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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2004 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x
Publisher site
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Abstract

S A M O E U R only mothers will embrace sorrows I wade through solitude to the cottage where we used to gather to drink rice wine, enjoying false peace. I sit under the same palm-leaf roof, gaze at your chairs but see no one, hear only your laughs. Here, it's like everywhere else-- deserted, villages of black roofless houses; I don't see even one dog. The explosions of mines, the roaring of heavy artillery from frontier to frontier, shake every grain of pollen from the champa flowers. No places to hide, no skies under which to rest; and the moaning of children and the cries of mothers out of blazing fire across the land, And your bodies, brothers, shielding us from the bullets, and your blood splashing over our Mother, induce my soul to ever worship jasmine and lotus blossoms. Apsaras (Celestial Dancers), Banteay Samre Temple, Angkor Complex, 2002 Photograph by Richard Murai water buffalo cobra and the prisoner of war for Gregory Ann Smith Work, work--hacking at trees, uprooting them, clearing bushes, transplanting rice, no time to rest. At noon, alone, as I cleared the canebrake, a beautiful black cobra opened his hood before me,

Journal

Manoa – University of Hawai'I Press

Published: Apr 30, 2004

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