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About Literature / Artist 李樂Male/United States Groups :iconcrowns-of-sonnets: Crowns-of-Sonnets
Words, words, words.
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Psalm 31
In you, O Lord, my spirit comes to hide
And calls out for your great deliverance.
I trust your strength to be my leading guide,
Your answer in my griefs the difference:
You know me and the troubles of my soul,
And so I find your love my utter joy.
My body trembles at the heavy toll
My enemies have launched to thus destroy
My mind, my name, my life. May all their schemes
Be scattered, silenced, as they treated me!
You hold unending good for him who deems
Your hiding place the safest place to be.
So love the Lord, all you who follow proudly;
Be strong, let courage sing and hope ring loudly!
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 0
What is this walk of faith that now we tread
But one that steeply climbs up, stair by stair?
That rough-hewn rockface with its jagged edge
Is pain to clamber on for those who dare.
Besides our ragged hands and feet, the strain
Of soreness grips us like the desperation,
The longing of our parched mouths for the rain
And weary minds for sudden inspiration.
But ere we reach the highest precipice,
Beyond the mists how marvelous this sight:
The blessed citadel of promised bliss,
A glance of which thus grants us newfound might.
From all we've sensed, we trust now the unseen
And find our gratitude for where we've been.
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 0
What is this grief
As if a hollow has been carved complete
And smoothly spherical within my heart,
So keenly have I felt your last defeat
Which in this life shall keep us far apart.
So clean and cauterized this wound has been,
I do not weep; I do not even bleed.
I merely live. I'm caught amidst the din
Of trailing mourners in an hour of need,
Without a grasp of why I stand and stay,
Unmoving here, then bending like a shoot
That touches both the wind and ground. I pray
And hope without you I still have a root.
I live a half-life now; the isotope
That breaks down radioactively is hope.
:iconparsat:Parsat 3 1
Op. 29, no. 2
My Strong Support

How far a modern quill does come too short
To scribe the depths of all you mean to me!
You were the first to come to my support,
To set me on this journey unforeseen.
And therefore have I slept in your report
That you have looked upon my faith with pride:
My slumber has not shaken out of sorts
Despite this separation nation-wide.
For I have found this noble work, this call
Is not one I have borne all on my own;
The fading summer and the turning fall
Has helped your gracious heart be widely known.
There lives more life in your fair memory
Than ties together all this new reality.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 1
The Black Box
I kept my passion sealed up in a box,
and painted it in ebony
down to the locks.
Opaque, the inside lined with cloth, well-hid—
but still my hands are aching just
to lift the lid.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 0
My westward days are speeding towards their end,
When I will walk the way that leads to autumn's sun.
So far from family (on whom shall I depend?)
And yet towards mystery I dare to run,
To wholly trust the truth I cannot see.
But this I know: Regardless if the road should loop
Or keep its course unwavering, I know that we
Shall meet (again?), and then in one fell swoop
Another journey just as bright will start.
We'll walk the forking road, but from the other side
Where paths less taken cannot bear to be apart,
And destiny would bid us there collide.
Our winding courses will one day run straight
If we allow our faith to navigate.
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 1
I caught the first bus to the rising sun
          as dusk met dawn
          my home undone

how dare it fill the sky
with colors riotous and fun
how dare it say the day has just begun
          disgrace, disgrace
          you're not my son

the world outside the window wildly spun
          a blurry view
          that stops for none

amazing how much thirstier you become
running just below the barrel of a gun
my bag is light but it must weigh a ton
          a sorrow that
          I can't outrun
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 0
Running the Race
I'll strive to run this race until the end,
Leave no path untrod, no hill uncrested.
No matter how the road may wend,
No rugged tracks will leave me bested.
Each day by day, the sun and moon descend
In heat and iciness. Though I am tested,
I'll strive to run this race until the end,
Leave no path untrod, no hill uncrested.
And though you may think I've not strength to spend,
Thus far my energy stays unarrested;
The hope that lies ahead has kept me rested.
There lies a treasure just beyond the bend:
I'll strive to run this race until the end.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 0
a streetlit walk
a streetlit walk
when summer's heat is not too strong—
a streetlit walk
for not too long, just down the block—
infrequent cars and cricket throngs,
they harmonize and hum along
a streetlit walk
:iconparsat:Parsat 3 0
Beyond My Reach
Since waves of tears have dropped and dried
I swore to take the muses off my mind.
But years of traveling with her aside
Has left me with affections redesigned.
How can I trace the time I grew inclined
To love her, though she lives too far outside
This reach of mine? I am still unrefined,
And waves of tears have dropped and dried
On my account. I am not qualified
When I consider all I left behind
And how, for lonely ages past, I tried,
I swore to take the muses off my mind.
I know her character leaves mine outshined,
Her bearing passionate, yet dignified:
Conclusions simple, perhaps amplified
By years of traveling with her aside.
That she stands tall and fully occupied
With greater glories, with a zeal unfeigned,
With eyes that only see a soul's upside
Has left me with affections redesigned.
But this I pray, for hearts and wills aligned
To gain His prize in being sanctified.
Perhaps the point is this, to be defined
By perfect love completely purified
In waves of tears.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 0
In the house of mourning
Death's better. Listen to the dead,
Their silent stories shut in sleep,
Their only speech: Though life is deep,
The bottom smashing in the head
(A pillow on a snowsoft bed)
Claims all who take that diving leap.
Death is better.
So think of worlds that lay ahead;
Dwell not on things that you can heap
Or else their loss will make you weep.
All those who looked ahead have said,
"Death is better."
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 0
To drain the drainer dry
The bite I took—what flavor that I crave
In mingled bitterness and sweetness! Pain
Expected and accepted, please explain
Why once again, why without effort you
Keep offering your arms out in full view
To let me trace the scar beside your vein:
The bite I took.
And yet you do not turn; you still behave
In such a fashion proving you remain
A soul unique and mortal though a rain
Of crimson droplets issues, pure and plain,
From the bite I took.
And I am shook.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 0
A peace that learns to live with, not without:
It's not the sound of silence but the shout,
Not merely relaxation but true rest,
Not ceasing work, but working at our best.
It lets no hardship gain in anxious clout,
And keeps our hope for rain in times of drought.
Our labor's not in vain, defeat and doubt
No longer in our hearts, we manifest
A peace that learns to live with, not without.
Our sowing done in safety makes things sprout;
The battle must be fought before the rout.
And victory does not mean that we're blessed,
But thankful we have stood up to the test.
This is the wholeness that we speak about:
A peace that learns to live with, not without.
:iconparsat:Parsat 2 3
Too often have I named my muses far too soon
With spurts of slowly fading energy.
Though I resist, the tug I feel is like a moon
Which pulls yet harder at its perigee,
And while it orbits, still it waxes and it wanes,
Sometimes illuminated, shining bright,
And other times without a face. That darkness pains
Me, chills me with its lack of guiding light.
Sometimes I wish it would not shine again, because
When it grows full again its features change;
But lonely hearts cannot for too long take a pause
From feelings both familiar yet strange.
For me who needs a glow to be inspired,
Perhaps it's time I build myself a fire.
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 0
Who are You, Lord?
When Paul beheld that glorious light
That overwhelmed his brilliant mind
And sent him reeling back into the night
Into the darkness, stricken blind,
He knew not the identity
Of his assailant, but he knew
That this was one whose sanctity
Outstripped that of this Jew of Jews.
His vision of true holiness
Could hold no candle to the beams
That knocked him down to lowliness
And put an end to all his schemes.
As soon as he asked, "Who are you?"
His own mouth gave its own reply:
The Lord was here, come to pursue
His own pursuer from on high.
:iconparsat:Parsat 3 2
Op. 29, no. 1
Word Limit

What strained touches rhetoric can lend
Are wholly insufficient to describe
The wandering of the years, each bump and bend
Sustained along this path I've walked, the vibe
Of mingled joy and griefs. Those words I lack,
I have not time nor talent nor the skill
To grant just treatment or keep proper track
Of all I gained, and have to increase still.
But all the same, it never gave me pause
Before, the feeling's hardly alien.
With forward movement past the path that was
And towards the future I walk daily in,
I look to loves both old and newly gained
And let their voices lead, however strained.
:iconparsat:Parsat 1 1


I recall giving this one a 2nd place in the contest when I judged, so it seemed like my perspective fit the consensus. The thing that m...

There's a classic meta-limerick that I was reminded of reading this piece: There was a young man of Japan Whose limericks never would s...

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NO MORE KND by hendocrinogeno NO MORE KND :iconhendocrinogeno:hendocrinogeno 209 18
Peace Like a River
When peace like a river
Becomes more like a stream
And storms arrest my waking
And rainfall floods my dreams
I hold eternal summer
Like a lighthouse in my soul
To call me out of tempest seas
Into peace complete and whole.
:iconlabruyere:LaBruyere 7 2
Interview with Contest Winner Parsat
Congratulations again to our Resurrection Sunday Contest Winner :iconparsat: for your winning entry
Please share a little bit about your inspiration for your winning entry and your creative process
As with a lot of my poems, my winning piece "Reality" started off as a scribble in church. Some people draw in their journals during the sermon and call it a doodle; I call my sermon writings a scribble. As it turns out, the message happened to refer to the theme verse, Philippians 3:10-11.
In the midst of the sermon, my pastor made reference to one of the most intriguing verse in the Bible, Col. 2:17, which in NIV reads that "the reality is in Christ." I love that phrasing, and I came to see resurrection power as a force so powerful that it could change reality. After all, dead people don't come back to life. Being a biologist, I've often wondered at all the biochemical pathways that had to restart and decay that had to be reversed in order for resurrection
:iconchristians:christians 3 3
Daily Lit Recognition for May 3rd, 2016
Daily Literature Recognition for May 3nd, 2016
Featured Author of the Day
Suggested by: Medoriko
Our featured author of the day is: Parsat :la:
He specializes in fixed form/traditional poetry with
an emphasis on sonnets. His poetry is incredible to read.

Written during NaPoWriMo, this subtle piece makes you
wonder what you may see through the reflection of another's eyes. 

The link between humans, and our odd fondness towards
scars is summed up well in this short piece. 

This is a sonnet, done well.  Based on Shakespeare's 78th sonnet:
"So oft have I invoked thee for my muse."
If you'd like to see more by Parsat, please swing by his gallery.
He is wonderful to speak with, and could teach you a
thing or two about sonnet writing!
For more
:icondailylitrecognition:DailyLitRecognition 3 3
Poetic Lens
I peered beyond my colored pane,
the broader world to spy,
And saw beneath the troubles, pains,
that all the world's in rhyme.
'Twas jarring, watching all the gray
of aches and darkened skies,
All bouncing to the joyful beat
of meter's gaudy lines.
The bombing of a church far east,
with hundreds dead and gone,
Re-echoed through my sorry head
a ballad's cheery song.
Or when a country's leaders fell
and bribed and killed and bit,
Our culture's slow decay in bright
pentameter was writ.
O poet's soul, why rob the earth
of gravity and pain?
Your lens of jolly gaity
cannot remove the stain.
Why paint the land in gaudy hue
with rhyming far from life,
When all the painting does is hide
the full extent of strife?
So help me, God, is this my soul
removed from what you made?
Are my poetic habits proof
that I ignore the pain?
Do I, in filling colors in
by using stainéd glass,
Present a wrongly-colored, blind
interpretation's cast?
"I made the earth from nothing, child;
the stones, the grass,
:iconbloodysalvation:bloodysalvation 4 5
Kwami Train by DancingInBlue Kwami Train :icondancinginblue:DancingInBlue 790 37 What am I supposed to do by pinkandorangesunset What am I supposed to do :iconpinkandorangesunset:pinkandorangesunset 100 11 Try Everything by xKOUx Try Everything :iconxkoux:xKOUx 135 13 Miraculous - Chinese by Umi-Mizuno Miraculous - Chinese :iconumi-mizuno:Umi-Mizuno 172 34
A Stillness of Lament
How deftly somber songs bestill
A heart's own beating pulse,
And in its absence promptly fill
A deepened sense of loss.
I woke with joy's soft, sprightly kiss -
My sorrow a surprise -
To fall so sharp, so low, so quick,
With dust upon my eyes.
:icontimeraider:timeraider 6 10
Seeking Stillness
A sheltered copse, if scarcely set
An easy jaunt from cities' breadth,
Allows escape when aches reside
The stillest centers of my breast.
No birds do sound, if present by -
We share what little silence bides -
An emptiness that circles 'round
And curls across the open skies.
A tended path yet cleaves the ground -
Meanders, gently, back to town -
Where city-streets await my sweep,
Their glass-wrought towers like a crown.
Oh, both horizons beckon sweet,
And draw me, oft, within their keep -
But as to how I love life best,
'Tis fairer said that both complete.
So I rejoin, at none's behest,
The world beyond the woodlands' wrest -
And all is just as I had left,
And stillness settles on my breast.
:icontimeraider:timeraider 5 4
Incense Haiku
The smell of incense
Lingers in God's holy place
Long after it burned.
:iconbloodysalvation:bloodysalvation 3 0
Poetic Irony
This is the time I craved.
The quiet I so sought.
I know the world goes in a blur
And I for now do not.
But here in peace and sunshine
The smell of lilies white
I hold my pen aloft, and then,
I cannot seem to write.
This is the fate of writers:
We have no time for tales.
But when we do, we sit and stew,
As inspiration fails.
:iconlabruyere:LaBruyere 10 5
Ice cream by IsmaelUchihaSan Ice cream :iconismaeluchihasan:IsmaelUchihaSan 11 7
Contest Winners
The moment you have been waiting for has finally arrived! :squee:  As always, it was difficult to choose just 2 winners for each category.   The literature category in particular was amazing, it indeed was a great challenge to choose just 2.  We did our best to choose the entries that best expressed our theme "Resurrection Power" and represented great quality and skill.  We hope that all of your are encouraged and blessed as you review the entries. May the Lord continue to use all of you for His glory and the furtherance of His kingdom! :la:
Digital art
:star: 1st place

2nd place

Traditional art
:star: 1st place

2nd place

:star: 1st place

2nd place

Honorable mention

No submissions were entered for this category. We u
:iconchristians:christians 4 17
I've been meaning to write more sonnets this September but life has a way of intervening. On Thursday, September 21, I received the terrible news that my little sister passed away suddenly from an overdose. She was only 21 years old. When I got the news about an hour and half after she passed, I got on a plane to California as fast as I could to be with mom and dad.

Life now is fraught with tragic truths and ironies. I've never even been to a funeral before, but now I have the responsibility of planning one. I got so used to being a big brother these past 21 years that I have forgotten how it feels to be an only child now. My sister, who was battling with mental illness while being in school, had quite a number of expenses, but at least our family is well off enough that she could afford to live. Now, looking at the funeral and cemetery plot expenses, we see that she could afford to die too.

Nevertheless, I have had two major sources of comfort. The first is my hope in Christ and the resurrection of the dead. The circumstances that led to my sister's passing arose from a confluence of sin and driving forces and disease and hurts beyond her control, but through the pain and sorrow she continued to trust in the grace of her savior Jesus Christ. She trusted that God loved her not because of how good she was or how great her accomplishments were, but because she was His daughter. Knowing that she was saved gives me tremendous joy.

The other is seeing the impact of her short life. She had tremendous gifts of mercy and generosity and selflessness. Many times she would tell me about certain people she had helped or was giving gifts to or building up, but until now I hadn't met many of them in person. For those who loved her to come and visit and tell my family how blessed they were by her has been challenging and inspiring to me. Would that I make such an impact when the time comes for me to be with God!

In any case, pray for me and my family. These past two years have been the hardest years of my life, but I see so much of God's faithfulness shining through!
  • Listening to: Satisfied in You (Psalm 42)
  • Reading: Psalm 73
  • Eating: Passionfruit


Parsat's Profile Picture
Artist | Literature
United States
I'm a disciple of Christ, a USC Trojan, a sonneteer, an administrator on Wikipedia, a Chinese-American, a pianist/violist, a biologist, a trivia buff, an ISTJ, and a scooter enthusiast.

"My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer." --Psalm 45:1

I mostly write fixed form/structural poetry, as well as translations of Chinese poetry. The villanelle is the king of poems, and the sonnet his queen.


Add a Comment:
Bobibillius Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2016
Hello there! Thank you kindly for the gallery invitation. :)
MagicalJoey Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2016   Writer
Thanks for the watch :)
Parsat Featured By Owner Apr 17, 2016   Writer
Not sure why I didn't before.
MagicalJoey Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2016   Writer
lols :)
xKOUx Featured By Owner Edited Apr 17, 2016  Student Digital Artist
Thank you for the fav and collection adding:D
AyeAye12 Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2016  Student Writer
Thank you very much for the Watch! Honoured to be in such technically proficient company :meow:
Parsat Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2016   Writer
To be honest I thought I already had you on watch. Then the other day I was just looking around and I realized I hadn't. :P This happens to me so frequently it's not even funny.
Cherry-Oh-Sundae Featured By Owner Feb 4, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch! I hope that you notice a change for the better in my coming works. :heart:
SeaPlume Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2015  Student General Artist
Thank you so much watching me. I'm very glad you've chosen to follow my work! :+devwatch:
Parsat Featured By Owner Dec 27, 2015   Writer
I applaud you as a fellow biologist-poet.
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