Three Poems by Huong Thuy Truong: The Snails, Power, Spend

Three Poems

by Huong Thuy Truong

The Snails

The snails creep slowly, keep slow.
No leg, no hands crawl flat, low.
Their antenna-eyes rise above, above,
Search around, around other’s works so.

Today, Rabbit races and has a leg ache.
“It serves the one who wants to be faster”.
And Fox is slapped by Lion, her master.
“It serves the one who often presents clever”.

The snails slowly sweep, slowly spread their slime,
Satisfy; laugh with their foot-mouth opens wider… wider.
They taste the victory on the dish of the other.
The dish is filled with loss and failure, of course, of the other.

The snails slowly, slowly go,
Hide away their weakness under the shells closed.
Think they are strong, think they all know.
One tramples on, their flaccid body is wholly exposed.

Power

Snake is smart and crafty.
He has a long flexibility.
He easily climbs on a high position on the society.
He has power; he has a lot of money.
He has every thing to please.

He is crazy about Miss Chameleon.
She has the wonderful eyes open.
They open, stir around without any movements.
She has a colorful skin changed often.
Generally, she is perfectly paired with Snake Gentleman.

Days and nights he dreams of her sticky tongue.
However, for her, eye is opening to search insects.
Tongue is shooting to catch, certainly, insects.
Her beautiful dresses also are to camouflage insects
Her love is touching some Lizards on the tree next.
Who can devote the cutting tail wriggling like an insect.
Snake angrily turns back, angrily bites on the tag, himself
The poisoning power now carries out as has been set.

Spend

And the wind has brought them softly.
Leaves steer lost, the summerset drops.
Tree lines cling, clang their shadow short.
Fade at the end, lights are sending their dots.
Leaves shed off and off and day carries lot...a lot.

I croon a long rhythm belonged to a foolish time.
The vagueness now digs the hole in my cold mind.
My heart is not the thick ice; it echoes by that unoccupied
If all my parts of the life are convex as a tasty pie,
Where is the concave tray to hold that pastry unripe?
Sad… glad, bad…nice… why shouldn’t we have a try?

A resident of Ho Chi Minh City, Huong Thuy Truong graduated Hue Science University with a degree in chemistry and Hue Teaching University with a degree in English. His most recent writing appeared in Danse.

Copyright 2010, Huong Thuy Truong. © This work is protected under the U.S. copyright laws. It may not be reproduced, reprinted, reused, or altered without the expressed written permission of the author.