Unraveling Hope, Waiting, and Existence: A Review of Three Poems by Anna Keiko

Anna Keiko, a renowned poet from Shanghai, China, has carved a distinct presence in the world of contemporary poetry. Her works blend delicate imagination, emotional depth, and reflective philosophical touches. In her three poems—Dawn of Hope, Waiting for the Bus, and An Empty Glass—Anna Keiko invites readers to contemplate love, hope, waiting, and the essence of human existence in a quiet yet stirring way.

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Dawn of Hope: Love as a Source of Light

Dawn of Hope offers a spiritual experience of love. Anna Keiko personifies time as something that flows endlessly, creating a contrast between the human desire to pause it and the unrelenting reality of its progression. Expressions like “like an image captured by a camera lens” symbolize the longing to preserve meaningful moments.

The heart of the poem lies in its portrayal of love as a transformative energy. Love warms the world and fills it with hope: “two hearts find a home full of gentleness.” The image of dawn not only signals the morning but also symbolizes the rebirth of hope after a long night. With a gentle yet firm poetic voice, Anna conveys the message that love can be a guiding light in darkness, a driving force that illuminates life.

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Waiting for the Bus: An Existential Narrative Amid Life’s Absurdities

In Waiting for the Bus, Anna Keiko places her lyrical persona in a seemingly ordinary situation—waiting for a bus. Yet this simple setting transforms into an existential metaphor for endless waiting and uncertain direction in life. The line “no bus takes me to where I want to go” implies the alienation of humans in a world that keeps moving, yet often fails to meet their deepest needs.

The repetition of “waiting” and the soft description of seasonal changes (from winter to spring) intensify the sense of stagnation. A city that “has slept for thousands of years” portrays an indifferent world, while “a few stars still awake” become symbols of the small hope that remains.

This poem is a portrait of silence within the crowd, a waiting that defies definition, and a search for meaning in a fast yet empty life. Anna prompts readers to reflect on the direction of their journey—are we truly heading where we want to go, or are we merely moving without purpose?

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An Empty Glass: Fragile and Mysterious Existence

An Empty Glass reveals a more philosophical and metaphysical side of Anna Keiko’s poetry. A glass once filled with spring water and now suddenly empty becomes a symbol of impermanence and the mystery of existence. Questions such as “Is existence just a glass of water?” and “Is my mind trapped in the glass?” express human doubt about visible reality.

This poem touches on the concepts of time, identity, and the boundary between thought and reality. With a minimalist yet profound style, Anna presents metaphors that stimulate the intellect and challenge the reader to reconsider the meaning of presence and change. Rather than providing clear answers, she offers space for deep contemplation.

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A Lyrical Voice that Touches the Soul’s Edge

In these three poems, Anna Keiko conveys that the human inner world is a realm rich in meaning and silence. She weaves words with precision and honesty, blending personal nuances with universal reflection. Love, waiting, and existence are not merely themes, but vital pulses that breathe life into her poetry.

Keiko is not just a poet; she is a keeper of light who gently guides readers through the darkness. Her poems do not explode with words, but seep into silence, touching the deepest parts of the human soul.

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Dawn of Hope

A Poem by Anna Keiko (China)

Morning light

wipes away the traces of night

Time flows endlessly

though I wish it would stop

like an image captured by a camera lens

for just as the fruit on a tree is precious, so is life

like the moon rising in the night

So are you, my love, whatever happens

wherever you are, I keep you in my heart

since I fell in love with you, your world has changed

because two hearts found a home full of tenderness

sunlight plays upon the strings of love

illuminating the dawn of hope.

—

Waiting for the Bus

A Poem by Anna Keiko (China)

I am waiting for the bus

Many buses pass through the station

They head to different cities

But none takes me where I want to go

I am still waiting, from winter to spring

No one cares about those waiting for the bus

They walk, or they run

I wait from darkness until dawn

Trees hibernate and awaken,

so do birds

This city has slept for thousands of years

Only a few stars remain awake

I don’t know how far the place I long for is

I keep waiting for the bus.

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An Empty Glass

A Poem by Anna Keiko (China)

A glass full of spring water appears before me

It is part of my body.

I try to drink from it,

But as I try,

The glass is empty.

Where did the water go

in such a short time?

Is existence

just a glass of water?

This is mystery, this is confusion.

What happened?

Yesterday, I was here at the same time

and filled the glass.

Would the water not disappear

if I stayed here?

Is my mind trapped in the glass

or…?

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About Anna Keiko and Her Work

Anna Keiko is a poet and essayist from Shanghai, China, who has made a significant mark in the world of contemporary literature. A graduate of East China University in Shanghai with a degree in law, her work has reached global audiences—translated into over 30 languages and published in more than 500 journals, magazines, and platforms across 40 countries.

With a deep dedication to literature, Anna founded and leads the ACC Shanghai Huifeng Literary Association. She also serves as China’s representative and director for the Ithaca International Cultural Foundation. Actively involved in international literary communities such as Immagine & Poesia in Italy and the Canadian-Cuban Literary Union, she fosters cultural friendship through poetry.

She has published six poetry collections, including Lonely in the Blood and Absurd Language—works that explore the bitterness of human experience, the unrest with nature, and the search for meaning amid life’s absurdities. Her honest, imaginative, and empathetic style has earned her prestigious international accolades, such as the 30th International Poetry Award in Italy and the World Peace Ambassador Certificate in 2024.

In 2023, Anna became the first Chinese recipient of the Cross-Cultural Exchange Medal for Significant Contribution to World Poetry in the United States—a distinction she carries with humility. Her poems, such as Octopus Bones and others, not only captivate readers but also open doors for her to participate in global festivals and literary gatherings.

Beyond poetry, Anna also writes prose, essays, song lyrics, and plays, showcasing her broad love for the written word.

Anna Keiko continues her quiet literary journey, weaving words, kindling hope, and offering works that touch the hearts of many souls.

West Sumatra, 2025

STICKY EASTER CAKE!

As a simple Poet I was quite alright

As a Known Poet I always thought

Whatever I write is absolutely right 

When they called me Global Poet

It simply increased my head weight!

When labelled Veteran Great Poet

I stopped attending local gatherings,

Instead, sent a Walking Stick as my symbol!

I carried on like this for many years.

I chose Easter Day to solemnize, as

Wedding Day of my only daughter

I printed picture of walking stick in invitation card

So that people can recognise me easily, The Bard!

A big Easter cake was mass attraction of function.

I remained busy with the bride and groom

Almost all the time inside the green room

When it was apt Muhurtham* time,

I came to the dias and looked around for guests

All the seats in front were already occupied,

By none other than lot of Walking Sticks!

* Auspicious moment 

   for any  prescribed function.

©® Balachandran Nair

India

…   …   …   …   …   …   …   …    …   …   …   …   …

Short biodata of Balachandran Nair (in third person):

Balachandran Nair is a multilingual poet from Kerala, India. He has published five poetry authorities and his poems took place in 90 more books published world wide. He has translated an anthology from language Malayalam to English. He has also published a book on rightful disposal and cremation of human body after death. His poems have been translated to 88 world languages so far. He has three unique World Records for introduction of more than 400 school children as New Poets in a continuous one-year online literary drive in 2022. He is now preparing to bring in 3000 more Student Poets in the near future under the auspice of International Academy of Ethics. He is Life Time Member in IAE and Advisor in many literary platforms. 

Gaza

I have seen so much

And heard so much

To believe that a part of hell

Has moved to Earth

Not only with the stench of burning flesh, 

Flames screams and cries

Invocations and curses

But also with the demons

Who in the underworld left

Their bestial forms

Their tails horns  fangs

claws and black wings

But with them they brought

Their wickedness

You can read in their disturbing eyes

Their evil smiles and

Their way of rejoicing 

Over the lifeless bodies of innocents

The demons disguise themselves 

In human form, 

Which also carries the scent of sulfur. 

One of them loves the carnival 

And wears the clothes of Francis. 

Who knows if it’s out of scorn or madness 

But the dead children in Gaza 

Will rise like angels

With  white wings 

And be welcomed in God’s presence, 

While on Earth 

In a land destroyed 

By hate and greed, 

The memory of their bloody faces 

Will haunt the nights 

Colouring with nightmares 

The dreams of those demons.

And if by chance

Or for unknown reasons 

They’ll not receive 

The proper punishment on Earth, 

They will undoubtedly have a ticket 

To the most fiery of hellish circles.

May 2025

WHERE DREAMS DWELL

So tremulously like a dream …

(“Clown in the moon” – Dylan Thomas)

In a separate world

dreams are alive.

Constellations of lights and

interstellar sounds attend their birth.

They creep into our minds

through a meandering trail

when the night is darkest.

Like dancing shadows

tremulous they enter

they play, mutate, dominate

are lost in dissociated sequences.

They plunge into the unfathomable

depths of memory

to emerge again.

And when the first blades of light

pierce the sky

they vanish … crumpled, shattered 

toward invisible horizons

in echoing silence

Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Broken Images

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter…

(T.S. Eliot: The Waste Land)

Among  ears of wheat now dry

there are no red poppies in the fields

of this long hot summer.

The sun rises and sets

on a land of dust

on an endless desert.

And that dazzling light seems to burn

blurred memories and vain hopes.

Waiting for the evening shadows and

for a cool breeze that will not come

we can almost feel  how  time

shuffles and rushes

our fears towards the final collapse.

In front of us only a heap of broken images:

maybe that’s the last call to save the earth.

Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

Lidia Chiarelli (Italy) is one of the Charter Members of Immagine & Poesia, the art-literary
Movement founded in Italy in 2007 with Aeronwy Thomas.
Installation artist and collagist. Coordinator of #DylanDay in Italy.
Award-winning poet since 2011.
Her writing has been published in more than 150 International Poetry magazines and web-sites.
https://lidiachiarelli.jimdofree.com/
https://lidiachiarelliart.jimdofree.com/

I Speak My Mind

I speak my heart out, unbridled and free,
A symphony of emotions, intertwined with every word,
I am yet to discover, the depths of my soul,
Living life in chapters, unfolding with each passing moment,

Gazing up at the brilliant blue, across the zenith and nadir,
I am a living embodiment of life, in this moment, right here and now,
My thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of hues,
In every step, I seek your guidance,

From the turbulent clouds, of inner turmoil, dense and dark,
Falling into the crest of the sea, there the sailor smiled upon me,
Chapters merging into one, oneness radiating, with faith in my eyes,
Motionless yet in motion, blossoming with love,

The divine religion, there my dreams spread their wings,
Again, limitless saga, nothing seems impossible,
There I assemble in you, and the monk meditates, in eternal newness.

Desolate

Devastated by the world,
Standing amidst the debris,
Where emotions have been numbed,
On the arid soil,
Where the shovel refused to cultivate,
Vacant eyes searching for those hands,
Now merely a memory,
There, my verdant spirit sings of the autumn fall,
In a huff,
Abandoned in the lanes of desire and acquisition,
Shrieking in solitude amidst the mirage,
Hawks flying overhead,
Vultures lurking over the vulnerable heart,
A rugged dholak stifling the feeble voice,
And life, set free, leaving nothing behind,
Loud, as never before.

Terms of Time

1.

I stop for an instant of eternity

on my sweet excursion

of morning walks.

A woodpecker landing near my feet,

wondering if my boots are tree roots.

2.

Squirrels and doves

pondering my unmoving state.

Sparrows chattering

at the top of an oak,

looking down on the stranger

dressed in unmoving ruts of wood.

3.

My eyes hidden

in wrinkles of thought.

World lit

by the past.

Dreams illuminating

terms of time.

4.

I have no lasting fears.

So I move on

scattering the birds

and squirrels with twitching noses.

5.

A gopher popping up

his head out of his hole.

Grinning at me

knowing more

in less

than I’ll ever know.

For I will fly

eventually.