By Annie Newcomer:
Shanyu is a 16-year-old poet and an absolute food connoisseur. He had three of his poems published in an anthology called The Afternoon Stars and was twice acknowledged by the poetry society of the UK for the Foyle Young Poets of the Year award. Poetry goes side by side with his love for the culinary arts. He has contributed to several food stories featuring his own fine-dining and modern-classic dishes.
We reached out to Shanyu to ask about his poems and inspirations.
FP: How and when did you come to Poetry?
S: I guess it was poetry that came to me first. I had this habit of writing down new words every day and was asked to write a poem using as many as I could for an assignment. It was two years back. I have continued writing ever since, faced several writer's blocks, and here I am. It was this poetry workshop that I took with the California Institute of Arts this summer that has really helped me redefine the boundaries of my poetry.
FP: What do you hope a poet will take away from your poems?
S: I write random musings that do not follow a certain theme, but I make sure to have really measured rhythm and imagery. I think a poet will take away that for sure. I just hate it when poems don't follow a rhythm, especially long free verses. My poetry mostly reflects that, rhyme and rhythm. I also hope they take back a different perspective at the end of the day. We are so rigid in our ways of seeing the world that we completely overlook how beautiful something can be from a slightly different perspective. Not that all of my poems offer the best perspective, but a different one, I hope.
Ode to the Moon
The raven spread its wings,
Across Stygian of the night,
The cerulean frothed elixirs black,
The wind was but a wight.
Hands intermingled,
Eyes met in swoon,
And that cloudy new moon night,
I swear I saw the moon.
Tonight I lie beneath the vaults,
Silver runs into the ink,
The wind ever so caresses me,
But I cannot sleep a wink.
Hands don’t hold no secrets tonight,
And eyes don’t meet in swoon,
They say it shines right overhead,
But I just can’t see the moon.
Holding in the Cosmos
Touch this
Dark melancholy,
With those pale
Fingertips.
Whisper the words
Of silence,
With your
Sanguine ruby lips.
Bring colour
To the darkness,
Greens, yellows,
Reds and strands.
Touch this void
Of vacuum,
With your
Gentle, healing hands.
And in your eyes
Hold the stars,
But, there’s no need
To rehearse.
Let’s fall and rise
Like cosmic dust,
Cause we’re the universe.
A moonlight tryst
I so tasted the night my love,
As it trickled down from goblets of fading suns
To my parched, longing throat.
Into a warm,
Melancholy embrace.
Deeper,
And deeper,
And deeper—
To every ounce Of my blood.
Metal lingered
At the back of my tongue.
The silver of moonlight
Ran through my veins.
My skin lit up,
With the touch of a thousand glowing stars,
My eyes gazed rapt,
In promise of splendid dancing flames.
My hands I gave
To the moon oh love,
My heart was its to keep,
I so tasted the night that day,
And it doesn’t let me sleep.
Instead, we fall in love.
FlapperPress launches the Flapper Press Poetry Café.
Presenting a wide range of poetry with a mission to promote a love and understanding of poetry for all. We welcome submissions for compelling poetry and look forward to publishing and supporting your creative endeavors. Submissions may also be considered for the Pushcart Prize.
Submission Guidelines:
1. Share at least three (3) poems
2. Include a short bio of 50–100 words, written in the third person.
(Plus any website and links.)
3. Share a brief backstory on each submitted poem
4. Submit an Author's photo and any images you want to include with the poems
4. Send all submissions and questions to: info@flapperpress.com