Inky Interview Special: John Grey, Australian Poet, USA resident

Tell us about your journey towards becoming a poet.

Sometimes in my early teens, I had made up my mind that I was going to be a writer. I tried just about every variation on the written word over the ensuing years from short stories to plays and (especially) songs but finally poetry emerged as the one genre that fitted what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it.

What is it you love about poetry?

The immediacy. The compactness. How so much can be said with so few apt and original words.

What do you care about? What themes keep cropping up in your writing?

I write so much poetry that it’s impossible for me to get stuck on one particular theme. But, I expect, if I did a census, relationships would come out on top.

Describe a typical day in your life.

During the week, I typically work from 7 until 7. That includes writing and all the secretarial work that goes along with it. That includes coffee, lunch and exercise breaks. On weekends, I’m more flexible as I have to work around family requirements etc.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

Am I allowed to say the current president?

Who inspires you and why?

Reading originally inspired me to write. These days, I can’t think of any particular author who stands out above the others.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t take rejection hard. Just let it make you more determined. And perhaps take up a more lucrative branch of the arts.

Tell us a story in five words.

The phone rings. Telemarketers. Slam!

Have you been on a literary pilgrimage?

Not really. though I have visited various writer tourist spots such as Poe’s grave and Mark Twain’s house in Hartford.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Find your voice. Have faith in yourself. Keep at it.

What are you reading at the moment?

I always find myself reading something that probably nobody else in a radius of 5,000 miles is reading at this very moment. Right now it’s The Education Of Uncle Paul by Algernon Blackwood.

What is next for you? What plans have you got?

My next is usually a vacation I’m looking forward to. My plans are to keep on writing.

Poetry Drawer: An Awkward Meeting in a Coffee House by John Grey

Poetry Drawer: Who She is Not by Karen Wolf

Like drool down a teething
baby’s chin, pleasantries roll
off her tongue. Her flattery soothes
the broken-hearted, encourages
the frustrated, comforts
the lonely—
part of who she is or who
she’s taught herself to be, not always
truthful, but expected.

She longs to strip
away her façade, level
the playing field with cruelties,
lies, baiting comments
drenched in satisfaction. Her
rebirth—
only moments away.

Poetry Drawer: Lowering The Lights by Stephen Mead

Grey eyes, wolf’s, cold steel
in the glint with fire behind, steel
of a new street grid, a warmth
in that whiteness
glowing gold through the black
of its own holocaust….

Tender yet, it is animal fragrant,
mortal through the mist where
in absence, presence, absence,
we, hunted, touch through
tenements, the graffiti of city woods.

I draw close my curtains
as though inside the vestments
of your flesh robes, the fur & grey
gazes you pierce the lowered lamp
lights with,

& also my beating heart.

Check out Stephen Mead’s Inky Interview

Flash In The Pantry: Serotonin Reuptake by Mitchell Krockmalnik Grabois

1.

In my memoir, I discuss sea lions. Sea lions lack subtlety. They never suffer from depression. Even when they’re thrown off an ice flow by a killer whale and their offspring are eaten, they never get blue, never suffer hate or thirst for vengeance—that’s not the way they’re made.

2.

On the glass table near my cruise ship cabin’s window, I lay out my thirteen pills on top of a brochure for shore excursions. Thirteen pills—the number seems lucky. There’s my anti-depressant, the pill to lower my blood uric acid so I won’t suffer from gout (the rich man’s malady), my baby aspirin, my boner pill.

3.

We pulled up to Yawzi Point, where the victims of Yaws had been quarantined by their ungrateful masters. The fat girl told us that the sign at the head of the point read Go No Further.

4.

My memoir is full of emotion. It has depth. I sometimes suffer depression and have many notes about how depression gets one in touch with one’s soul. However, if I had my choice, I would forego depression entirely.

5.

That sign now hangs on the wall of a Copenhagen museum. The souls of those dead slaves reside there, disfigured by the sun and hunger, toil and illness. Scandinavia is no longer a utopia, as the past merges with the present and the future. The fat girl shoves pastries into her pie hole.

6.

A theological mystery: does serotonin act in God’s mind the way it acts in ours? Was He the first to understand the concept of the inhibition of serotonin reuptake?

Inky Interview: Author and Visual Artist Laura Minning

You are an award winning published poet and author who first started writing at the age of nine. Tell us about your journey towards being published. It must be interesting to see how you have developed as a writer over the years?

I didn’t develop a desire to have my poetry published straight away. That dream emerged during my sophomore year of high school. My first opportunity to embark upon that dream didn’t present itself until five years later, though.

My alma mater was producing a literary magazine, and they were looking for submissions. I decided to provide a hard copy of a poem entitled “children” to the editor (“children” was an excerpt from the creative writing portfolio that had been presented in congruence with my college application). The judges loved my poem as much as I did and agreed to feature it in their publication.

You are also a visual artist. Describe for us your abstract art. Where have you exhibited?

I began by utilizing acrylic paints in the late fall of 2013. Next, I tried my hand at combining the paint with candle wax, nail polish, crayons, sidewalk chalk and glitter glue. I’d additionally affix original poetry or Imax film strips to canvas board and incorporate the acrylic or wax based mediums around them. These techniques created some exceedingly colourful tactile and three-dimensional effects.

I’ve presently had ninety-four pieces exhibited in seven states. My work has primarily been featured on the east coast – from Virginia to Maine. Recently, I’ve obtained permanent exhibits with children’s museums in Iowa and Texas. These exhibits serve as “touch exhibits” for the blind. They’ve been very well received, and I’d like to do more in that area.

What is it you love about poetry?

I love the fact that poetry is a way for us to share parts of ourselves with others. It’s a way for us to connect, and it’s a way for us to grow.

Could you share Bronx Zoo? What inspired you to write it?

I wrote Bronx Zoo whilst I was on a high school field trip to the “Bronx Zoo”. It was a class assignment. In college, I was tasked to write a traditional Spanish sonnet. I decided to take the first two stanzas of Bronx Zoo and translate that. Both poems have not only been very well received, they’ve both obtained publication status.

Bronx Zoo

…I feel captive of the world around me,
as I glance through my cage
(of protection and confinement)
and see the passing eyes,
and hear the sounds of smiles,
I wonder of my fate and destiny.

For people accept me as a stuffed fascination,
and cage me without consent
(of hope or being).
Oh to live a life of freedom;
that is my ultimate dream.

And my friends are in my place,
(of a caged society)
and they wonder of me,
as I think of them.
For we wish for freedom
and demand to be heard.

So when I touch my bars of jail,
and see those passing eyes,
I feel ashamed.
(For it prevents me from forgetting
my board and captive life
and my friends of freedom’s shelters roam.)

For to be free is my painstaking goal,
and to run wild is my ever lasting dream…

(excerpt from “sunburst” published by xlibris, 2005)

What do you care about? What themes keep cropping up in your writing?

I care about the state of the world and my role in it. I’m also constantly looking for ways to learn and grow as an individual.

How do you think technology is affecting humans in today’s society?

I think that technology has made our lives easier, but it’s also hindered us as a society. I’ve seen people sit and eat at the same table, whilst spending time on their phones vice interacting with one another. That doesn’t strike me as healthy.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

I think that the world could use more acts of kindness – both to ourselves and to others.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

I would tell myself to continue working on my goals with diligence. A little work each day will definitely bear fruit.

Describe a typical day in your life.

I believe in having a balance between work, my creative projects, my family and my friends. It’s all of great importance to me, and it should all have equal time as a result.

Who inspires you and why?

I originally found inspiration in reading poetry by E. E. Cummings. I felt that he had a unique voice and vision, and I saw M. C. Escher as achieving that same goal in the world of art. I identified with this, and I felt inspired to create and develop my own voice and vision as a result.

What are you reading at the moment?

Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of reading time. I do venture on-line in order to read the occasional article on varying abstract artistic technicians, though.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

I would say that it’s important to find your voice, follow your heart, and have faith that your creative goals will bear fruit if you work at them.

What is next for you? What plans have you got?

I would love to establish more tactile exhibits for children and the blind population. I think that everyone should have the opportunity to be exposed to and enjoy artwork.

Books From The Pantry: Park Symposium by Claire Bassi

Hunger

We played till daylight failed, left, hungry, wolf-eyed,
mince and mash on the breeze, street lamps coming on.
Shadows long and lawns damp, we wish for June,
the bread and honey months.

Zero-G

In my hands are chains, wearing hard
the skin of well-oiled palms.
I’m light, I’m plastic.
Pendulum timed in the beat of two,
soon to fall
out of sync. I’m pushed, I fall,
weightless in the wake of you.

Get your copy of Park Symposium

Inky Interview Special: Poet Ken Pobo From Pennsylvania

Tell us about your journey towards becoming a poet.

I didn’t start out thinking I would be a poet. I was a wannabe pop singer. My first poems were peace and love imitations, my own Crystal Blue Persuasion and San Francisco (Wear Flowers in Your Hair). I got bored with faux song lyrics—but not with writing. I was 15 then. I’m 63 now.

What is it you love about poetry?

Poetry is perhaps the place where I feel most free. A blank page never judges you, never says you’re doing it wrong. It just says fill me. Make a mess. Have fun. Cry.

Tell us about your book Loplop In A Red City, which was published by Circling Rivers.

Loplop is a book of ekphrastic poems. For years I’ve written poems connected with art, particularly paintings, and I began putting them together and seeing what would happen. I owe Art Historian Dr. Ilene D. Lieberman a great thanks because she introduced me to work by many surrealist and women artists. My life grew richer from this, and I think the poems did too.

What themes have you written about in your book of prose poems, The Antlantis Hit Parade, forthcoming from Clare Songbirds Publishing House?

Many writers debate the difference between flash fiction and prose poetry. These are shorter than many flashes, but I’m not sure that length is the deciding factor. The prose poems are often surreal in their imagery. Some of them take on topics of identity, particularly LGBTQ+ issues. I hope that humour appears throughout the collection. I didn’t have a special theme for the work. Voice and image, I hope, weave it together.

What do you care about? What themes keep cropping up in your writing?

LGBTQ+ rights. The environment (in praise of Nature, but also mourning for what we are doing to our poor, wounded planet). Flannery O’Connor says that a writer will have material for the rest of his/her life by getting to be 18 years old. I still investigate my childhood, the places and people who formed me. I’m never too far away from the planets. I see them as characters. I write often in character poems: Trina, Steve, Wandawoowoo, Dindi, Aaron, many others. Sometimes I prefer to think about their lives more than my own, though everything connects.

Describe a typical day in your life.

I’m a professor of English and Creative Writing. My day in the work week is classes, meetings, and grading. Exciting? At home, my husband and I are big gardeners. It’s May now, my favourite month, but an exhausting one. No matter what the day, music is a part of it.

You collect vinyl. Have you a favourite?

My favourite song of all time is from August 1967 (I was 12 when it came out): Twelve Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming To The Canyon) by the Mamas and the Papas. My favourite band is Tommy James and the Shondells.

If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

Hate. I want it to stop. It won’t but I want it to.

Who inspires you and why?

Poets of all kinds inspire me. Bette Davis films. Ingmar Bergman films. Anyone who works even in small ways to make us more kind and less selfish.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Don’t be so scared. Make mistakes.

Tell us a story in five words.

Naked, he answered the door.

Have you been on a literary pilgrimage?

Not in a formal sense but I’ve been writing since 1970 and it still feels like a great journey, full of surprises, a few hairpin turns. Unlike some car trips when I say ‘Are we there yet?’ I know there is no ‘there’ (apologies to Gertrude Stein). There’s another poem ahead.

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Make time for your writing—which, I know, is easier said than done. Get off phones and Facebook long enough to have time to dream and meditate, and ‘bad’ poems can be our best help.

What are you reading at the moment?

Julia Baird’s biography of Queen Victoria. My favourite novelist is Thomas Hardy, and I want to know more about Britain in that time period. Recently I was rediscovering Gwendolyn Brooks. That was/is a pleasure.

What is next for you? What plans have you got?

The plans I have now in terms of writing are not much different than at 15. Keep writing. Do what helps the creative fires to keep burning.

Ken on Twitter

Poetry Drawer: And Again by Kenneth Pobo

When I came out, well,
I came out and out and out
and out. It’s everyday
like breathing or taking a shower.

So many ways to do it.
Sex is only one. Sometimes
I’m asked what music I love. If I say
sixties bubblegum, oopsy daisy,
I get the are-you-crazy-but-
I’m-too-polite-to-say-it stare.

Or even books. How to admit
among English majors
I haven’t read Moby Dick.
Or Ulysses. Or Light in August.
Out comes that
you’re-a-fraud smirk.
I come out anyway. Closets—
claustrophobia lessons.
Many prefer my door locked,
I can’t breathe!
They turn up the TV,
do a Sudoku, clomp to
the fridge for a Coke. I’m out.

Again. And again. Just like
I’ll be tomorrow.

Poetry Drawer: Golden Giant by Hongri Yuan: Translated by Yuanbing Zhang

Hongri Yuan, born in China in 1962, is a poet and philosopher interested particularly in creation. Representative works include Platinum City, Gold City, Golden Paradise, Gold Sun and Golden Giant. His poetry has been published in the UK, USA, India, New Zealand, Canada and Nigeria.

Golden Giant: Translated by Yuanbing Zhang

Who is sitting in the heaven and staring at me?
Who is sitting in the golden palace of tomorrow?
Who is smiling?
The golden staff in his hand
Flashing the dazzling light
Ah, the flashes of lightning
Inter-weaved over my head
I walked into a crystal corridor of the time
I want to open
The doors of gold
Lines of words in the sun
Singing to me in the sky
I want to find
The volumes of gold poems
On the shores of the new century
To build the city of gold.

Laozi with rosy cheek and white hair
Smiling at me in the clouds
A phoenix danced trippingly
And carried in a book of gold.

Lines of mysterious words
Made my eyes drunken
Countless giant figures
Came towards me from the clouds.

The times of seventy million years
Emerged leisurely before my eyes
The cities of gold
Surrounded with the crystals garden.

The sky of sapphire
Sent out the colourful miraculous brightness
On the green hills of jasper
Dragons and phoenixes were flying.

Exquisite pagoda
Majestical palace of gold
The airy pavilions and pagodas
Standing in the purple-red clouds.

The laughing girls
Riding the colourful husbands and wives
The propitious clouds
Sprinkling the colourful flowers.

I opened the door to a golden palace
Saw the rows of scrolls of the gold
A giant with the haloes all over his body
There was a golden sun over his head.

With smiles, he picked up the books of gold
Recited the sacred verses
I was intoxicated with miraculous wonderful words
Surrounded with the purple-gold flames all over his body.

A golden lotus
Bloomed beneath my feet
Lifted up my body
Wafted up from the golden palace.

The red clouds
Drifting by my side
Outside of the sky I saw
Another golden paradise.

The leisurely bells
Calling to me
The countless giants
Roaming in a golden garden.

The sky of the ruby
The rounds of sun
Like the golden lotus
Blooming in the sky.

The intoxicating fragrance of flowers
Like the sweet good wine
The golden trees
Were laden with the dazzling diamonds

The wonderful flowers
Bloomed for thousands of years
The land of gold
Inlaid with the gems.

The pavilions of gold
Strewn at random and overlapped
Someone was playing chess
Someone was chatting.

Quaint clothes
Colossal statures
Miraculous eyes
Happy and comfortable.

The white cranes
Flying in the sky
The husbands and wives
Crowing leisurely.

Beside the old man, I came
As if he was waiting for me
On the golden pavilion
He opened an ancient sword casket.

A glittering ancient sword
Engraved some abstruse words and expressions
Were clear and transparent like lightning –
A dimly glowing purplish-red pattern.

He told me a metaphysical epic
The sword came from nine billions years ago
Which, was made from hundreds of millions of suns
It was a sacred sword of the sun.

It could pierce the rocks of time
Open the layer after layer skies
Let the sacred fire smelt the heaven and the earth
Into the golden paradises.

The old man’s eyes were deep, archaic and abstruse
Dimly shone the joyful flames-
He let me take this sword
To fly towards a new golden paradise.

The huge golden lotus floated leisurely
I flew over the sky thousands of miles away
The huge pyramids
Impressively in front of my eyes.

The mountainous figure of giants
Walked about in front of the pyramid
The huge pyramids of gold
Were much taller than the mountains.

The giant trees of gold
Like a forest
Stood in the sky
Laden with the stars.

There in the multi-coloured propitious clouds,
Was a huge bird
In the silvery sky
Crowing joyfully.

I came to the front of a pyramid
A door was opening wide
A group of blonde giants sat
With smiles in the grand palace.

There as a holy great old man
reciting the singular language-
The temple was painted with magic symbols and
Giant pictures of gods

The palace was full of silvery white light
blooming with huge wonderful flowers
A peal of wonderful mellifluous bells
made the person suddenly forget all time.

I heard an immemorial verse
It was written hundreds of millions of years ago;
It related countless eras of giants
that created the holy kingdoms of heaven.

Their wisdom was sacred and great
and knew completely the past and the future of the universe
They flew freely in the sky
Landed on the millions of planets in the universe.

They made time change at your pleasure
Which could reach spaces
Make a stone turn into gold-
Make the gold bloom flowers.

They were like the round sun
Which could erupt the sacred flames-
Let all things blaze in raging flames
Turn into their imagination works.

They landed on the planets
Established the golden paradises
with their magic abstruse wisdom
and built the platinum cities.

I saw the gorgeous words
Flashing in the volume of gold
And the magical wonderful halos
Rotating like coloured lightning in the sky.

I came to another wonderful heaven and earth
And saw a huge edifice of platinum
The whole city was like a piece of work
Sending out quietly the brilliant white light.

A huge round square
Encased some unearthly works
The giants of great stature
Came and went leisurely in the street.

They wore singular clothes
Shone all over their bodies
With smiles on their face
Both men and women looked beautiful.

They spoke wonderful language
which was as intriguing and pleasant as music
Some of them run moved by
Spaceship flying around silently in the sky.

I walked into a huge edifice of platinum
Saw a magnificent hall
Platinum wall was inlaid with gems
There were also a row of unusual instruments.

Their eyes were like bright springs
They wore multi-coloured clothes
Some of them were operating instruments
Some of them were talking with each other, softly.

I saw a magical picture
With drawings of giant planets,
There the cities stood
And there also, were crystal gardens.

I opened a crystal door
Saw a group of happy men and women,
They were singing softly
The blinking books of gold were in their hands.

Both the clusters of flower and the glasses of golden wine
Were on the huge round table
The golden walls were sparkling
Carved with all kinds of wonderful pictures.

I saw a demure girl
The golden halo was sparkling on her head
She was dressed in a purple-gold longuette
which was as peerless as a sculpture.

The pages were marked with whimsical words
Like lines of ancient magic symbols
Each book was made of gold
Like a golden crystal.

I understood their euphonious songs
They were singing of the sacred love
They were singing about great ancestors;
they were recounting the civilization of the universe.

Their city had gardens everywhere
Surrounded with sweet rivers
The whole earth was a piece of jade
And the clay was a layer of transparent golden sand.

I saw some white-bright huge balls
Suspended high above the city
The giant balls were sending out dazzling light
And the heaven and the earth shone as bright as the crystal.

The towering great buildings stood in great numbers
As if they were carved by a whole piece of platinum
Both the doves and some colourful
birds were flying in the sky.

I saw a singular train
Flying swiftly forward in the sky
The streets were white and bright
And any moving vehicle could not been seen.

Their bodies were unusually strong
Playing a wonderful game,
They piled up the pieces of great stones
into some grotesque works.

Both like some giant eyes
And some ancient totems
There were also some strange birds
Covered with lightning feathers all over their bodies.

I saw a couple of tall lovers
They aviated a spaceship
Their eyes were quiet and bright
A colourful halo shone around their bodies.

The wonderful space was gyrating leisurely
Like a huge, resplendent crystal
I said goodbye to the unusual city
And moved towards a space of golden light.

The cities flashed in the sky
I flew over the layers of the sky again
And I saw a newfangled world-
A multi-coloured city of crystal.

The high towers were exquisitely carved,
Shining like multi-coloured pearls
The layers of eaves were painted with dragon and phoenix
There hung the singing golden bells.

The earth was a crystal garden
The palaces were limpid and crystal
Huge mountains were like transparent gems
Lined with the golden trees.

I saw tall giants
Wearing purple clothes
There was a round sun above their heads
And their bodies reflected a shining halo.

They sat up in the main halls
Singing a mellifluous song
Some were roaming leisurely in the garden
Some were summoning the birds in the sky.

The crystalline airy pavilions and pagodas
Were beset with jewels and agates
A huge jewel on the spire
Shining the golden lights.

I saw a holy giant
Sitting in the middle of a main hall
The purple-gold flame flashed around his body
Filling the whole majestic main hall.

Full-bodied fragrance filled the hall
Like a cup of refreshing wine
Solemn expression was merciful and joyful
A huge book was in his hand.

The hall was full of men and women
Listening quietly to the psalms of the saints
The lotuses were floating in the sky
where the smiling giants sat.

The golden light poured down from the sky
Bathing the crystal kingdom
The jewels above the giant
towers were golden suns.

The golden walls of a golden tower
Were carved with lines of flashing words
Flying around the dragons and phoenixes
as if they were intonating the inspiring poems.

The smiling giants had huge halos
That flashed around their bodies;
Each was dignified and tranquil
Floating in the golden transparent sky.

I flew over the crystal kingdom
And saw the vast golden mountain in the distance
That was sending out the brilliant lights in the sky
Where the propitious clouds were blossoming.

There was a golden giant
sitting in the golden transparent sky
His body was composed of thousands of millions of constellations;
the golden sun was rotating on his forehead.

He lit up the whole marvellous universe;
the kingdoms of heaven shone in the sky
Here there was not the sky or earth
The up-down four-direction were the lights of pure gold.

The smiling giants were sitting
on the gold-engraved pavilions
The pavilions levitated in the transparent sky
shining the layers of purple-gold light.

There were multi-coloured transparent mountains
Propitious clouds floated in the sky;
large wonderful flowers were blooming in the mountain peaks
And there were also trees of light.

A river flowed from the sky
and the bottom reflected a layer of golden sand
There were strange and beautiful birds and
the beasts were like some aerial phantoms.

This was a world of light
Everything was made of light
The divine light formed all things,
And the golden paradises.

The golden giant I saw was
Shining the kingdoms of heaven in his body;
I saw the cities of gold
brilliant and fascinating in his bones.

I saw lines of extremely large words
arranged into a huge book in the sky
It seemed as if they were the bright stars
constituted a wonderful drawing.

There was a golden pavilion in the sky
floating around with huge dragons and phoenixes
An old man with a whisk
waved to me and smiled.

I was attracted by the magical
Leisurely, I came to his side
He told me the golden giant
Was my great ancestor.

This was an eternal palace
With no sense of time
Holy light was God
What I saw was better than heaven.

He pointed to the huge book in the sky
and told me that it held the mystery of the universe
The book contained magical wisdom
and created the countless worlds of gold.

He pointed to a pagoda in the sky
Told me that was the temple of words;
the light turned into the sacred words
and the words created the time of gold.

He held up a very large pearl
In which flashed pictures
He told me that it was the future
It was all of the wonderful worlds.

He told me that it was another universe.
I wanted to go to the other paradises
He gave me the magical pearl
and said it would be my future guide.

I said goodbye to the holy old man
I set foot on a new road of the heaven again
I sat in a golden pavilion
Lightly flew to the distant outer space.

黄金巨人

远红日

谁 坐在天上向我凝望

谁 坐在明天的黄金殿堂

谁 微笑着

手中的金杖

闪出耀眼的光芒

一道道闪电啊

在我头顶上交织

我走进了一座

时间的水晶长廊

我要打开

一扇扇黄金的大门

一行行太阳的词语

在空中向我歌唱

我要找到

那一部部黄金的诗卷

在新世纪的海岸

把黄金之城建造

白发红颜的老子

在云端向我微笑

一只翩翩的凤凰

衔来了一部金书

一行行玄妙的词语

迷醉了我的眼睛

一个个巨人的身影

从云中向我走来

七千万年的时光

在眼前悠悠浮现

一座座黄金的城市

簇拥着水晶的花园

蓝宝石的天空

闪出七彩的灵光

一座座碧玉的青山

飞翔着龙和凤凰

玲珑的宝塔

宏伟的金殿

一座座亭台楼阁

矗立紫红的云间

欢笑的少女

跨着七彩的鸾凤

一朵朵祥云

洒下缤纷的花朵

我打开一座金殿的大门

看到一排排黄金的书卷

一个周身光环的巨人

头顶一轮金色的太阳

他微笑着拿起一部部金书

朗诵了一首首神圣的诗篇

我陶醉于神奇美妙的词语

周身环绕起紫金的火焰

一朵金莲

在我脚下盛开

托起我的身体

飘出了金殿

一朵朵红云

在我身边飘过

我看到了天外

又一座黄金乐园

悠悠的钟声

向我召唤

一个个巨人

漫步在黄金花园

红宝石的天空

一轮轮太阳

像一朵朵金莲

开放在天上

醉人的花香

像甘醇的美酒

一棵棵黄金树

结满耀眼的钻石

一朵朵奇葩

盛开了千年

黄金的土地

嵌满了宝石

黄金的楼台

错落重叠

有人在对弈

有人在闲谈

古雅的衣裳

巨大的身材

神奇的眸子

欢喜自在

一只只白鹤

飞翔空中

一只只鸾凤

悠然啼鸣

我来到了一位老者身旁

他仿佛正在把我等待

在那黄金的楼阁之上

他打开了一只古老的剑匣

一柄闪闪发光的古剑

镌刻一些玄古的词语

清澈透明像一道闪电

隐隐泛出紫红的花纹

他告诉我一部玄奥的史诗

这柄剑来自九亿万年

亿万颗太阳把它炼成

它是一把太阳的神剑

他能穿透时间的岩石

打开一层又一层云天

让神圣之火熔炼天地

化成一座座黄金乐园