Writing
Samples of Upcoming Works: Brave Rooster
Chapter 1
“Er-er-Er-ERRRR! Er-er-Er-ERRRR! Er-er-Er-ERRRR!” The distinct crow of a powerful rooster breaks through the stillness in a village. A sliver of moon peeks through thin clouds above Lao Kai’s crown when he jumps awake from a sudden disturbance. The morning air is crisp, clean, and refreshing high in the mountains. His needle-sharp talons grasp firmly onto an old tree stump as the onset of morning approaches. Upon hearing Papa’s daily morning crows, Lao Kai feels a deep happiness and reassurance knowing the familiarity of life in his village. For a second, he sees himself like Papa as a Village Rooster, but the idea disappears quickly. It is too much of a responsibility for him to carry on his young shoulders. Feeling a bit chilled by his own thoughts, Lao Kai looks at the chicken house. He sees Papa standing proudly erect like a tree, holding his head high to give another waking call to villagers and Yer Shao’s creatures for a new day to begin.
Read moreIllustrations:
Poetry
Filter by:
MO
Mo,
who is Mo?
Perhaps a brunette
or
a blond,
who loves to run.
Mo,
on the front of a white letter jacket,
fits crisp against my black ponytail.
Monogramed Mo,
track shoe wings, yellow timberwolf,
traces of another girl.
Mo,
her kind mother
gives a piece of Mo to me.
A daughter from another mother,
who wants to run like her Mo.
Running season is over,
proudly I wear Mo.
Watching frozen ice on the Mississippi
with a boy,
I see silhouettes of Mo
walking towards me.
My hand covers monogramed Mo.
Black hair girl cannot be Mo.
Feeling embarrassed for wearing Mo,
I hide behind the boy as
shadows pass by.
My shame evaporates,
slowly.
Mo and I,
two daughters loved by
a mom, teacher, believer.
The white letter jacket,
our shared casing,
one day
metamorphosizing into butterflies.
Still,
the frozen ice on
the Mississippi
stirs a deep longing of when.
When
will I be my own Mo?
Mo,
who is Mo?
Me,
who am I?
Copyright @ Mai Chao, 2/24/2017
Two Rivers
Mississippi, oh, Mississippi,
timeless beauty,
you have carried countless stories
without judgement.
Your serene wisdom
inspires curiosity in young and old.
Today,
I sit before you as he asks for my hand,
how can I not accept such a kind-hearted man to be mine?
When his West melts into my East,
we become stronger as one.
Mississippi, oh, Mississippi,
you have done it again,
witnessing a new history
with prudence.
Watching your heartbeat,
in front of
“A Simpler Time”
overlooking the Julia Belle Swain,
I think of Mother.
Back then,
she once sat before the Mekong,
10,000 miles away.
Death asking for her hand,
how can she accept to go at such a young age?
When escaping certain death becomes a second chance,
she grows stronger with others.
Mekong, oh, Mekong,
you have done it again,
witnessing a new history
with prudence.
Watching your heartbeat,
in front of
fear
overlooking “The Land of Smiles.”
She thinks of her future.
Two daughters
before
two rivers.
Each with hopes and dreams,
like the moon and the sun
intertwining as one.
Mekong, oh, Mekong.
Mississippi, oh, Mississippi.
Two daughters
standing before the shores of the past,
the crossroads of the present
by two rivers.
Copyright @ Mai Chao, 2/24/2017