Top 16 Best Poems by Teacher and Poet Bui Thi Que Anh

HEARTFELT SHARING ON MOTHER'S MEMORIAL DAY!
Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Twenty-three years, mother departed from this world,
But for me, she is still here and there...
Mother is with me every step, every day...
I still hear the sound of her laughter, her words...

Twenty-three years, life has changed so much,
The village is now different from the past...
No longer the thatched roof trembling in the winter wind,
Standing shivering in the cold, windy afternoon.

Twenty-three years, many nights I woke up,
Tears faded, wetting the entire dream...
Mom still sat with her four young children,
The house collapsed, the children dried, and mom wet!

Twenty-three years, how can I forget!

Mom used to lullaby me on the summer hammock...
Mom's thin figure carrying a bamboo pole burden,
Barefoot, mom crossed many fields...

Twenty-three years, just like a fleeting moment,

The child that was me has grown up now,
The stork's wings fly on the paths of life,
Carrying the old dreams of mom!!!

26/3/2015

TAKE ME BACK TO THE OLD COUNTRYSIDE

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Take me back to the old countryside
The gentle Nhue River in its coolness
The bamboo forest rustling with songs
The coconut boats swaying in the wind...

Take me back to the old countryside
To La village where silk is woven
The winding path fragrant with the scent of rice
Alive with the bustling sounds of looms...

Take me back to the old countryside
There stands the gentle figure of grandma
There toils mom, diligent and smiling
The cloth is full, under the sun and rain...

Take me back to the old countryside
With friends playing, chasing each other
Feet on the earth, bare and seeking
Plump bodies bathing in the midday pond...

Take me back to the old countryside
The small house, sunlight playing on the roof
A bunch of sweet peaches waiting to be picked
With a garden of trees, birds singing loudly...

The homeland now has changed so much
The village has turned into a bustling city
That old day has become so strange
Only the realm of memories remains!
Missing homeland, 10/6/2018

Mid-Autumn, Missing Home!

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Mid-Autumn arrives, and I reminisce about the old days
When there were grandparents and fairy tales
The yellow moon hanging on the slanting bamboo
The fragrance spreading throughout the garden...

I recall the Mid-Autumn Festival from a distant past
Grandma making lanterns with paper
Bamboo helicopters and uncles banging sticks
Mid-Autumn gifts for us, the little ones!

I remember the sound of the frog-shaped drum
The lion dance lively in the small neighborhood
Uncle Teu with his big belly always smiling
The mischievous kids chasing, cheering...

Grandma gave me a feathered fan to play
Turning me into Bomm, running around the neighborhood
Bomm saw a firefly near the fence
Bomm hurried back to tell grandma there's a ghost...

Grandma told tales of Mr. Cuoi and the banyan tree
Under the moonlight on full-moon nights
Sister Hang Nga always waiting eagerly
Every Mid-Autumn Festival, vibrant and joyful!

Mid-Autumn is here, and I feel nostalgic
I remember my childhood and grandma
Time has brought many changes
But grandma remains in my memories!
Mid-Autumn 2017

TO THE LAND OF WHITE CLOUDS

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

To the land of white clouds, you return
A gentle cold at the season's end
Misty clouds drift along the mountain slopes
Tinged with the purple hue of falling flowers...

To the land of white clouds, you return
Nostalgia for Tản mountains and the Đà River
A painting of endless hills and waters
The temple bell tolls in the distance...

To the land of white clouds, you return
The green fields of Ba Vi, lush with grass
Tản Lĩnh leans under the afternoon sun
Soft grass cradles each step...

To the land of white clouds, you return
Rediscovering the verses of old poems
Tản Đà, even in your absence
Here, the realm of dreams still lingers...

To the land of white clouds, you return
The homeland, how much love it holds
Heron wings flap and call out
The love for the land echoes eternally...

THE SOUL OF THE VILLAGE

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

The well's water clear as the village soul

Unknown since when, it remains the same!

The well's basin, round, covered in old moss

Forever loyal, sheltered under the banyan's shade.

The well's water gentle as a melodic song

Flowing along mother's long flowing hair,

The well's water innocent as the children's play

Playfully splashing every summer afternoon...

The village stream, cool and gentle

Rinsing away all the burdens and troubles,

The bowl of rice imbued with the rustic love

Through the years, growing, maturing...

Summer nights, the moonlight over the village

The entire sky illuminates itself in the well,

The village girls chatter and laugh

The laughter reverberates even under the moon...

From the impoverished village, from the clear well

Mother bids farewell as father marches to war,

The village folks, a lifetime of toil

The well's water still as pure as the village's soul...

Hanoi, March 1999.

REMEMBERING MOTHER!
Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Now, I only meet my mother in dreams
In a place where fields are bathed in sunlight
Where white storks gracefully spread their wings
And a lullaby echoes through the entire childhood...

Now, I only meet my mother in dreams
Every evening, I run to the alley's end
She returns from the fields, her smile radiant
Feet muddy, she whispers to her little one...

Now, I only meet my mother in dreams
Bamboo shoulder poles swaying in the northern wind
There, a faded silhouette of my mother, distant and swaying
Aunts flying backward against the wind, carefree...

Now, I only meet my mother in dreams
The recurring pain in the evening breeze
Mother endures through the night with aching perseverance
Suppressing pain, she lulls with a comforting murmur...

Now, I only meet my mother in dreams
One day in March, rice flowers fall
The sky storms without rain, kites severed in the midst of life
A kite, its string broken, lost in the journey...
An Khanh, March 15, 2018

AT GRANDMA'S SIDE

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Temporarily leaving the chaos of daily life
I return to my grandma's side, where peace resides
Somewhere, troubles are left far behind
By grandma's side, my heart feels light...

I recall a distant, quiet road
Dragonflies carry the warmth of the sun
Grandma wades through vast fields
Bringing to our home tomatoes and clusters of lychees...

I remember the fragrance of sticky rice
Every visit, grandma cooks for me
I've tasted many delicious dishes
Yet, none compare to grandma's homemade sticky rice...

I reminisce about my childhood days
Listening to grandma's tales by the porch
Her stories contain both sunshine and rain
Happiness, sorrow, smiles, and tears...

Bearing the burdens of a busy life
Sometimes I feel weary and worn
Yet, I understand, even if just for a moment
By grandma's side, I am profoundly happy!
Tet 2015, at grandma's side!

REFLECTIONS ON DAD

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Throughout life, bearing burdens and worries
Sometimes weary, yet steadfast in stride
Dad's steps always hurried, never at rest
Even in old age, a moment of respite he hasn't met.

Time's relentless flow persists
Bamboo clusters by the house shed leaves seasonally
Raising a family amidst hardship and toil
Dad, the shelter enduring both sun and rain.

Once a Truong Son soldier in youthful days
Spring of youth, Dad traversed war's flames
Thought he'd never return alive
Comrades, sacredly, brought Dad back.

Post-war, amidst life's tumult and clamor
Chaotic existence, hearts in upheaval
Yet, Dad often said with a gentle voice:
Never bow before the storm, my child!

Suddenly, I notice Dad's back more bent
Silver threads weave through seasons of mist and wind
Mom passed away when we were still young
Dad's shoulders bear the family's weight even more...

Bamboo clusters stir restlessly in the night
North wind caresses the rooftop
Old wounds resurface, throbbing again
Dad pulls the bamboo fish trap, forgetting the pain.

The twang of the fish trap echoes in the deep night
A sound that recalls youthful days
The fish trap carries a mother's love
Its melancholic tone, a yearning for what's lost...?

In this world, there's no miracle
To reclaim time lost to the past
Yet, one eternal truth remains:
Dad - my life's greatest pride!

With respect to our dear father!

OUR HOME
Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

This is our home, my dear
A place filled with love and care
With each morning and each evening
We face challenges together, making happiness...

Life may have its ups and downs
Yet, our home remains tranquil
Together, we handle the necessities of life
A peaceful haven raising our grown children

The kitchen is always waiting
For dishes from your skillful hands
Lovingly, you cook my favorite crab soup
While I work hard, covered in dirt

Our home echoes with laughter and playfulness
Father and children jest with each other
While mother stands quietly in the background
Watching her dear ones with love

This is our home, my dear!
Parents and children await you every day
The children's eyes shine with innocence
They are so lovable!

Let's keep the flame of our home burning
So our family always stays warm, my dear!

MOTHER NARRATES HER CHILDHOOD

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Did you know, my child, about your mother's childhood?

Carrying siblings around the neighborhood, across villages

Wandering through bamboo and guava groves...

Playing marbles, playing badminton, gathering firewood, picking vegetables...

Did you know, my child, about your mother's childhood?

Afternoons spent cutting grass, herding buffaloes

Crawling through canals, catching crabs, grabbing shrimp

Teasing each other with mud all over...

Did you know, my child, about your mother's childhood?

Yellow squash flowers wrapped around bamboo

Young tamarind shared with a sprinkle of salt

Ripe jackfruit fragrant with dreams...

Did you know, my child, about your mother's childhood?

Feet in the dirt, off to school, face messy

Meeting friends, laughter ringing in the sun

After school, jumping into the pond with lotus flowers...

Did you know, my child, about your mother's childhood?

Dragonflies carrying sunlight across the river

Fragrant winds of areca and pomelo trees

Rice fields swaying with ripened grains...

Isn't your mother's childhood strange, my dear?

No superheroes, no airplanes...

Just garden leaves and straw became

Surprisingly magical toys:

This doll with the fragrance of rice and glutinous rice,

This man wielding a stick made of bamboo,

This buffalo made of banyan leaves, this kite made of pandan leaves,

All toys from the leaves of our homeland...

This was your mother's childhood, my child!

Your mother tells you like a fairy tale

Countless memories, your mother doesn't expect you to remember

Your mother only hopes you understand her!

A REALM OF MEMORIES ABOUT MOTHER
Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

This day, 24 years ago
Mother left, journeying to a distant land
Four children still innocent
Lingering in the haze of youthful understanding...

Yet, 24 years have swiftly passed
24 years, the children lost their mother
Oh time, how swiftly you flow!
Dragging out the void within our hearts...

24 years, the children have grown
Understanding the vast expanse of life
Witnessing the sea with its many waves
Realizing the pungency of salt and ginger...

24 years, does Mother know?
The children still preserve your image
Forever recalling those childhood days
The silhouette of white storks in the village evening...

March, the green paddy fields lush and vivid
The child follows the wind, soaring far away
A flock of white storks returns to the edge of the field
Calling Mother back into the memories of childhood...

DON'T FORGET, MY CHILD!

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

As you grow, my child, don't forget, oh please!
Our homeland is the paddy field by the bamboo edge,
You run freely every summer evening,
Inviting the wind to play with the little ones.

As you grow, remember, don't forget that place!
Our land soaked with countless drops of sweat...
The white storks fly amidst the soothing lullaby
Carrying the emotions of your mother...

As you grow, my child, don't forget, oh please!
Follow me to the fields, play carefree
The vast, expansive fields, freely splashing around
Lessons of the homeland, no need for books.

As you grow, don't forget, remember that!
The green, cool fields of your childhood
The leaning shadows, inclining the small path,
You, engrossed in searching for beetles and crickets...

As you grow, remember your childhood days,
Don't forget the fields of our homeland,
Don't forget the expanse of our blue sky,
With kites and dreams of your mother...

An Khanh, May 14, 2015

OH, MOTHER!

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Dear daughter, now you've brought forth new life,

Enduring the pain of delivery so rife,

Ecstatic joy, boundless and so rife,

As your newborn enters this world so bright.

Dear daughter, now a mother yourself,

Singing lullabies passed down like wealth,

This is the river, this is the breeze's stealth,

This is 'The stork fetches rain' in good health.

Dear daughter, cherishing the days of old,

Bearing burdens year-round, morning's gold,

Mother quietly endures illness and cold,

Reserving tasty bites for the family fold.

Dear daughter, vigilantly awake through the night,

Checking on the feverish child's plight,

Overflowing memories of mother take flight,

You quietly whisper, 'Oh, my mother's light!'

Dear daughter, love for mother grows,

Once nurturing you, ensuring each meal flows,

Now abundance, but where has she chose?

The scent of smoke lingers, where is she, who knows?

Since ancient times and for all time to be,

A mother's love, an endless sea,

'Only when you raise a child will you see,'

The timeless verse, forever free.

B.Q.A - 26/3 - Missing Mom!

LONGING HUSBAND, UNSHAPED STONE

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Many sons of the village went to war,

Farewell to the fields, the rice paddies so far,

Some returned to silk weaving, to the loom,

Weighed down by worries, their hearts filled with gloom…

Many days and months have swiftly passed,

The battleground now silent, the guns at last,

Peace returned to their lives, so calm,

What became of the longing for the missing husband's palm?

Many nights have passed, lost in the dark,

The longing husband still sings the lullaby's spark,

Gently swaying, the cradle of sleep,

The mother awake through the night, secrets to keep…

O my child, you've grown up so fast,

Unaware of the sacrifices, memories will last,

Do you know of the lone graves,

Unnamed on hills, silent as waves…?

Many years have passed, lost in time,

The longing husband still weaves his rhyme,

Only the pain remains, unshaped stone,

Lonely between earth and sky, unknown…

Hanoi autumn, 1997

Hanoi in Autumn...
Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

Hanoi in autumn, isn't it, dear?
Where trees are buzzing with cheer,
Sunshine spills on the narrow lanes,
The sky so blue, it never wanes!

Hanoi in autumn, isn't it, dear?
The aroma of Vong village's green rice near,
Lotus at West Lake still lingers sweet,
Flower vendors in the crowded street!

Hanoi in autumn, isn't it, dear?
The Turtle Tower reflects in Hoan Kiem's mirror,
The playful buffalo in the water's embrace,
Echoes of longing, a familiar trace!

Hanoi in autumn, isn't it, dear?
Fragrance of milk flowers in the night,
Seems someone silently,
Brings autumn to me with delight!

Hanoi, a day in autumn 2018.

BACK TO HOMELAND

Poem by Bui Thi Que Anh

I return to my beloved homeland

Where once my mother herded silk and spun,

Through the childhood I once passed

Suddenly, emotions overwhelmed me!

I see the ivory bamboo still waiting there

The row of phi lao trees stretches to embrace the wind

The winding road leads me to the small alley

Grandma's house is here, beside the ổi tree by the pond!

Green trees in the garden, birds singing lively

Ripe persimmons await my plucking

The small house, sunlight playing on the roof

Mực the Squid comes out, wagging its tail in joy!

Grandma welcomes me with teary eyes

Her hair has taken on the color of passing years.

I, who have traveled far, always carry the image,

Of a kind grandmother and the beloved countryside!

Homeland, 1995