Flowers in the Grass Ledgend (1)

"A weed is no more than a flower in disguised." There are flowers in unexpected corner of our life that are waiting for us to enjoy but we usually skiped it. There are colours that awaits us to see but we usually omitted it. Thre are beauties in nature but we need to regonize. 

Deciver's Season

Cast in the shape of scent or suggestion;
over, along night’s avenue streaming,
as hope or moth above street-lamp flying,
paradise flutters the evening air.

Is it the almond’s coral bay
which beckons both the heart and eye
to fabled continents of pearl
where paradise gardens sway with the wind?

Caught in a crochet of leaves and tresses-
a conjured trellis of gold and green-
close to the touch yet not for touching,
paradise hovers an inch out of hand.

So April ends and the charm is over.
One dawn within the shaken boughs
we find a death’s-head choked with blossom….
paradise gardens fall in the wind.
Derek Stanford
1918


There was a time Indian Lilac blomming daringly in a summer. But before that flowers were even waiting to bloom, there was a person who listened someone's secret dream.

What could be the dream of a little girl three years ago? Whom did she trust and open her heart? Now, these are not important at all. Whom, did I trust? May I ask myself again. Is there a posibility she can manage with? It is not important at all. However, the only important thing is to carry on.

One may not notice that receiving trust from someone is a responsibility to maintain the trust.

With a heartfull of love and a pocketfull of dreams,

Pan Pon Pyin

Life in Parallel Frames

There is somewhere I could hide my happiness and sadness during a two years stay in a very colourful and peceful town. That is a paint-brush and a paper with blocks on it to rander all my emotion with colours. If our life be straight lines paralle to each other never intertwine, there is still an enormous attraction for all of us that might be like a hurricane or a black hole.

ေက်ာင္းသြားေဖၚ ႏွင္႔ ဒဂၤါးျပား

ေ၀း ကြာမွဳေတြရဲ့ နိဒါန္းကို ၿငိမ္းခ်မ္းျခင္း ရဲ့ အစလို႔ လမ္းခြဲမွာ ငါတို႔ သတ္မွတ္ၾကတယ္ ဆိုပါစို႔ ေက်ာင္းသြားေဖၚေရ…. မၿငိမ္းခ်မ္း လည္းရိွပါေစ 

Beauty of Complication

In art, as in literature, ugliness rendered with compassion is beauty. W. Joe Innis, Artist There was in December 2007, Annivesiry of Faculty of Agriculture was held. There was a friend place that attracted me so much. That was the display of lilies. 

Dawn in Bagan

* Dhamayangyi Temple at Dawn from Shwe San Daw Pagoda.

A morning in March 2007, there was a girl travelling in Bagan with hope, expectation and courage for the challenges that will come to her for the next two years.

Her uncle, Saw Yan Naing, told her at that time that the uprising pagodas everywhere in Bagan is a civilisation that is the most distinct glory in Southeast Asia. This is the only one archaelogical site in the histroy with enormous brickworks in Southeast Aisa. 

If I were a flower, .......

A Homeless Evening

There is not a single star, where will be the moon?
Not a piece of cloud, where will be the cover from glare?
Please not a single bird,
for there is a pair of teary eyes with full of expectation.
Where will be my hide-out?
Some say that a heor just roam around,
May I not be a hero.
May I be a bird who can go back home for every single flight.
Even the flowers in my mother's garden will cry
if I don't have a place to lie.
Please, all the lullabies come to me,
for a girl longing for home.

Enriching and Preserving

If colours are made to be attractive, how about this... but.... If I were choose to be a flower, I would rather be white that anyone can put any colour they would desire and be peaceful. But in a culture........

The Mount Popa of Myanmar

Mount Popa, an extinct volcano in Kyaukpadaung, near Bagan. 

The Flame of the Forest

The Red Charming Tree

* Peeping into the dream.

To the Horizon

In the lexicon of youth, there is hope, ambition and eagerness. I had loaded these in my back-pack and started my journey to look for the truth of life. The beginning of the journey is somewhere in my childhood. The line between youth and childhood

Once In the High School

In the rain we walked with friends holding hands in hands. Breathing songs into our souls. Learning the world. I realized now that it was just a white sheet of paper. No ideas about life but I was lucky enough to be a student whom was taught to achieve so many things in a short time.

Last Sketch with an Old Friend

It was a long time that I did not get a chance to draw sketches with the small ink pen received as a present from a colleague friend. Yesterday, I was in sorrow that I was trying to clean my room. I found out that little ink pen and remember the days that she and I painted with that little ink pen together in Yangon Institute of Economics. We were sometimes painting in our lecture books.