Chauncey Chen 

Elmhurst, New York City

Chauncey, a Professional Engineer, immigrated to the U.S.A. from China in 1981. Though he writes poetry in three languages, he can't produce unless he is moved, inspired, or enlightened. For instance, while writing "Heaven" (exhibited below), he burst into a bitter cry for about half an hour, heart breaking since he was unable to return his mother's infinite love. He believes that "Heaven" will help awaken our angelic nature and help stop baby (parent) killing. He has won two Editor's Choice Awards from The National Library of Poetry, etc. He is now working on his own book.

Heaven 

Every time I watch breast feeding,
Can't help smiling.

I know I was once
As true, good, and beautiful as
The baby:
Holding Mother's breast as if holding
The whole loving world,
Sucking milk with drunken eyes
Half closed,
Kicking mechanically,
Rosy cheeks lit up with ecstasy.

Through tears I see Heaven
That is Mother's bosom
Where I was infinitely loved
As in God's Kingdom.

The Blind Man's Wife 

The blind man's wife, a shining star!
Like a non-vanishing light in the darkest infinity,
You guide the blind man to his destiny.

Through your words of supreme good,
The unfortunate blind man sees
The sun, the moon, and the stars;
The mountains, the forests, and the seas,
And God's gracious faces.

You are the truth, the way to your man,
He follows you all along with attention.
You need no cosmetics and no fashion,
Your beauty is beyond his imagination.

Lifetime's selfless sacrifice,
Rewarded only with sightless eyes.
Though happiness may have gone afar,
Yet no mortal is ever as you are:
Overpowering the soul of a man
With love's power mighty -
The Truth, the Goodness, and the Beauty!

A Bouquet of Roses 

Gathered up early in the morning,
With dew drops still sparkling.
Like transparent crystalline tears,
They are scattering gleams, trembling.

We don't know who the roses planted,
Loved, watered, and cultivated.
Maybe it was a white haired mother?
Or a heart broken sister?

The flowers are mild and beautiful,
With buds opening to the full.
Who knows their secret dreams,
And the memories, at all?