It dreams of light and life,
of vibrant color and vast urban spaces.
It dreams of incorporating culture with economy,
and evolving into a living environment
full of energy with elegance.
The city's dream is green, full of life.
Seoul is the core of Korea,
the center of action,
the heart of innovation,
the shared soul of design.
Missing my chariot, my sleigh,
my zip zap zing... my t’aint no thing,
be there in a flash, my traffic bypass,
my bit of sass
~ by Peter N. Liptak
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Sitting in the sap of spring
by the weeping willow, wondering
…whiling away and wondering
if the flow of time can be tied -
have you tried?
Binding it by a stretch
of willow at the trunk to catch
the flow of time and tide
By and by, near the Nodeul ferry riverside
------
Twig and twine tying time to the tree
Trust not its boughs and branches, not me,
To stop the page of life’s mystery
the blue ever flowing by
mindless of the willow’s strength, and my sigh
As I sat beside the willow
With the ferry’s come and go
Across the river, it’s course wide,
By and by near the Nodeul ferry riverside
Visa hot in hand... 'merica here we come!
But when will we land? And what will become
of the friends who made this place home, those expat alum...
How do you say goodbye to 20-year associates,
to the long friends, the Seoul mates that made this place almost home?
And where will their fates take them? Beyond borders to what will be from what has been...
I will keep you in heart and head, remember all I heard and and all unsaid,
the things we did, the beer we had, the late nights kalbi fed.
To the runners and the drinkers and the thinkers, to the sometime (by-my-side) sinners,
to the incessant selfie girls' subway sessions and it's kimchi soju stench,
to every ajjuma in all her color, the sticky-rice culture, to the traffic - yes, somehow I'll miss you too.
So with tangled ends still untied. Making' knots and dotting dots. Still much to be clarified...
(When will the mad dash subside?), I bid you friends a fond farewell.
I'll await your knock at my door. And for those I return to, it is my pleasure to tell...
so glad to see you once more!
On a warm twist of winter
At 5:30 in the morning of Korean calm
An early bus slips past the chot noon [first snow]
Sailing down in windless clusters
Like whispers
Wetting windshields,
Highlighting the beaming headlamps
And washing by the well lit emptiness within…
It greets the faces of early commuters
With little welcome-to-the-day kisses
And brightens the pre-dawn
Sleepy-eyed alleys and avenues…
It alights on coated shoulders
As the late-nighters
Stop and stoop
To scrape the pavement
And pelt pals
Scooping and assailing
On their slippery descent
Down “the Hill”
Exalting in their intoxication
In this extra joy
At the break of Christmas…
Itaewon in the last moments of the millennium
Blanketed in white as if
To wash away the sorrows
Of war and the memory
Of the centuries past…
Cityscape
As evening approaches,
And night extends the sky’s expanse,
A neon canopy is cast over the vast extent
Of Seoul’s story unfolding
Framed by bustling traffic and avenues aflood with people.
A tale reflected in the quiet river,
Soulful and scenic,where its Han runs deep,
Its water forever infused with history’s narrative
And composed by nature’s recurring chronicle.
I arrived before the dawn of humanity and watched the mountains rise above
Bearing the surges and torrents of time, then the lingering calm of peace in awe of
The generations of men who grow and wither, live and love.
I have weathered winters and watched the birth of spring,
Rolled through the swelter of summer and carried the leaves of fall,
Mirroring the lives of those who built their huts at water's edge, great and small,
Their reflection shimmering in the day’s haze to the sound of cicadas
And beaded with light in the scented night to elate us
I have heard the din of great deeds and inspired the poets to passion
And for those who come to reflect, I ripple and listen
I am the color ancient – the rivers flow,
The scent of Seoul, its coursing heart below
I am the Han
(Of Han and History)
Many kingdoms came to claim me, and I sat silent at their feet for a spell,
By-and-by they came to dust, yet my veins still stream with life’s swell.
My icy banks served the last Joseon king and lord
To preserve and send him in a procession that would strike a chord.
I was there when thousands fled south as the thunder roared
And held back the tide of fury as many attempted the ford.
Some 600 years, I’ve watched the city grow and people dwell,
As I rolled from the slopes of Daedeok in a swell
Joined by the gush of Geumgang gathered from the north,
With the humors of one Korea to join hands in Han and issue forth
Coursing into the Yellow Sea,
I cut across the landscape, rolling through Seoul’s history
I flow with han and happiness, miracle and mystery
Equally north and south, I know no borders
And when I rise, I flood by my orders
I am the Han and I am history
(Power and Privilege)
I am power, patient yet unstoppable, the eternal flow,
Shapeless, I run as raindrops, amassing might as I grow
Splitting stones and smashing boulders in my rush to lower land
My course may bend, but I bow to no man
… and none can contain my spirit
I am peace, nature’s enduring refuge, a place to grow
I am the welcome wind over cool water, the bearer of dewdrops and the channel of rain flow,
The scent of the storm, the river reborn
I am the yin and yang of ecology amended,
The river renewed its progress appended.
I am Han and I am hope
(From Rise to Renaissance)
I have watched the flood of humanity rise at my banks,
Seen the rolling hills turn to cement pillars in ranks,
Its carts to cars and serenity to speed, rabid with urbanization and blank
I’ve seen bridges built to span my breadth, and watched the wheels of time roll by
Soon to see the neon lights splashed about, blaring through the once still sky
I became the symbol of Seoul’s manufacturing miracle,
Felt footprints fall, weathered the tire tracks of industry and endured the metal plates of progress
I have known the wicked by the toxic runoff, and seen heroes made and lost
I have seen the guiltless die and the victorious weep at the cost
I balked and became a symbol of Seoul’s renaissance,
Transforming in tranquility, rebuilt and restful, calm and comfortable in response
I have fed kings and peasants, families and foes, secret lovers and lost souls
And welcomed them to share in meditation or wash away mountains of woes
You unsettled souls, come and renew
I am the Han River tested and true
I am the Han
And I am home
(An Aside)
I too have sat by the Han and listened to the quiet and the din
heard tell of those who had come before, and those who will again.
I have seen mountains of trash turned to family parks
And murky waters transform to await the song of larks
I’ve seen the footprints of progress slowly swept away
As its founding spirit return to mark a new day
I too am the Han and here is my home
Palettes,
Drawing dreams,
Sketching the duration of sleep
it seems, I paint my dreams with all the tints and tones
of unfolding thoughts rendered from my simmering head
As I let flow this flood of visions
Of the scenes of dreams
I stop and slumber
With tinctures trained
To mood my thoughts,
and create reflections
of subconscious introspection.
What dwell amid the rows of cement collars,
astride the mounted hills stepped with sustaining grass
and winding from the Seoul of late descent
came by morning of early trained mass?
Then met by Ahn the mentor and more, the idiot
when drovely driven to yellow the monkey’s crevass
did tremble to the sea by road and harried trail
and plunge into the tunnel’s deep hues of rumbling rail?
There is much to sea in a day’s busy tale.
Steeped in 500 years of Confucianism
The heritage of a dynastic Yi hermitage
Indoctrinated its population in the prism
Of expanding stasis, getting on in age.
Here begins the story of Horace
As he happed on the hapless case
Of Kojong and his hermit race
In a time of encroaching barbarians and Yi’s passing grace.
Entering on a medical ruse, Allen early paid his dues
A wife-with-child in tow, he’d much to lose
Sharp of face, a sharp-tongued missionary that
Found favor in the court at which Kojong sat.
The wedge of medicine he’d use to pry up
The walls foundation of Confucian doctrine
To catch the souls to fly up
That had till now been locked in.
The accidental occidental entered on a rough note
With the Kapsin at the young Min’s throat
Though misfortune would fall at his doorstep
Fortune would deliver a healing rep.
Thrice diplomat to mission years,
This patriotic and mission minded healer
Remained dedicated despite his fears
And forged concessions for American dealers.
To the end, a devoted diplomat
Preached the gospel of Korean independence
But those who knew, later said of that
He’d played into the Japanese dance
The Choson Allen knew
Came to a bitter end at the hand
Of the Japanese as their empire grew
To encompass the Korean land.
I remember following up the long incline
Of cement stairs
Along the steep sided alleyway
To the peak of our expression
And the open expanse
I recall the lights of HeukSeok dong
Staring up at mid night
Arcing like an amphitheater
With the dark stage reflecting stars… wobbling
The light movement of shades across the Han
I remembered your ballet
And the blackness of your velvet eyes
Enveloping me in a comfort
Lacking light
A place not of sunshine
But the peace and rest of autumn night
I recall the rhythm
Of my heartbeat in your ear
The curve of your lips
The color of your heat
Relaxed… absent of fear
I remembered the length of night
I spent alone — a time
To linger on the laughter
To ease in with the music of memory
The scent of you near