Young Love

Love has many meaning. To some, it mean nothing, yet to other, love mean everything to them. So what make love so strong then? So strong that it will hurt us so bad if we ever let it go. It seems that when lose the love we know, sometime we fear that we might not experience the same love we have before. Like innocent love, before we learn anything about heartache. Puppies love, before we learn about commitment. Maybe that's just the things, not only we lose the feeling we once knew, we also forgot a part of us that build off this childish and innocent love. We hope that once day that time will heal all pain and we will be able to take a step forward. But that's just the thing. I believe that the only way to go forward is to take a step backward. Go back to the first moment that we first feel like love mean everything. Back to the innocent love we once knew. Back to the childish love that we all wishes to hide, but can't. In doing so, we will be able to rediscover the part of us that we lost, the part of us that have kept us so childish and innocent. Who know? The flame in our heart never dies, just dim.

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Young Love

When two hearts meet, they sing and dance.
They watch the clouds that come and went.

They sit and watch the bumble bees.
They sing along their symphony.

They stroll along the rosy field.
They laugh as they roll down the hill.

They follow where the bobcat goes.
Into a dream where no on know.

They listen to the water fall.
They two hearts beat the lion roar.

The two hearts play with river's reed.
They hold hand til they fall asleep.

My Autumn

Have not written anything for the past couple of month, but now I"m back (sort of). Here another poem that I hope you all like and Happy Thanksgiving!

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My Autumn

Staring at the maples, I wonder
what kind of secrets the trees know.
Being in one spot all the time
they must have seen everything
in this past couples of year.

And if I could,
I would ask them,

if by chance, they have seen you walking by one day.
If like me, you have made a stop here
at one point on your trip
just to have a conversation with the trees.

I would ask them
how are you doing?
and tell them, to tell you, to meet me here
on this spot a year from now
- or tomorrow.

But things are never as easy as they seem
and irony love to play with us
like some sort of puppet.

In fact, seeing you in my dream
is far more real and far more aesthetic
than any memories.

Because these memories
are just like this Autumn day.
The cool wind that marked the end
of the long Summer vacation,
and the dried leaves,
the dried leaves that are scattered everywhere.

Sakura

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Sakura

It was not that long of a train ride,
but the scenery on the other side of the window
moving by in a slow motion
made the ride longer than it need to be.

The way the city lights flicker
from window to window,
as if I am watching a montage of my life.
Each panel, one after another
show me a memory I had with you.
These images seem like a still picture
out of some scrapbook,
or a cheezy line from a poem
out of a letter, which I wish
I had given it to you years ago.

It is not that sad,
sitting here watching the train entering and departing
from station to station.
The petals of the cherry blossom outside
seem like a pink snow flake falling in Spring,
serving a remainder
that there is still a hint of Winter
remain in my heart.

To Search for an Angel

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To Search for an Angel

To search for an angel is not an easy task.
You must look far beyond the Once upon a time,
the place filled with faeries and knight-in-shinning armor.

Because in your own little corner,
you will not find a map or a guide
that will lead you to the missing glass slipper or the cave
where the wicked witch have hid the poison apple.
In fact, finding the lost Holy Grail
is by far easier than anything in the world.

So you don’t need to stay up all night
and wait for the stars to come out,
for a chance to connect them like a game
of connect-the-dots,
hoping that it will lead you to the Big Dipper.

Because while you are doing your own thing,
she is locked up all day in her cold tower
staring out her window at the clock tower in the distance,
watching the second’s hand move,
waiting patiently for the clock to strike 12,
wondering if you have lost your way somewhere,
or got stuck on some bridge riddling with a troll.
Hey, who said this was easy?

So bear in mind that
to search for an angel is not an easy task.
You must look far beyond the sad fairytale ending,
the happily ever after.

The End.

Ode to The Shadow

Ode to The Shadow


How often do you bike
around your neighborhood?
The laughing children by the jungle gym,
the old couple on the bench,
the jogger with her dog,
and the dog with his tongue sticking out
are all images that passes you by
like some sort of black and white slide show.

How often do you find yourself
biking out of the busy city,
and into the quiet countryside?
The trees bend and hunch over,
perhaps they were touched by the storm
that blew by the night before.
The wheat dances and waves at the passerby.

And who are you?
For not joining them.

Stop for a moment and let your shadow
stretches his leg out.
Give him a pencil and a paper.
Let him dance with the wheat
and climb on the back of the tree.

How often do you get
to see you shadow laughing?
Instead of being attached to your body
Like some sort of slave.

But don’t worry though.
Because even long after you leave,
your shadow will still be here,

in front of the audience of stars,
singing a lullaby for the moon.

A Poem on the Pavement

A Poem on the Pavement

Give me a chalk,
so that I can write my name on the pavement.
Throughout the day I would watch,
strangers walking across it,
placing their foot right after another,
as if they were walking in a slow motion.
One after another, they would leave
the image of their footprints-
forming a trail of memory.
Their sole and heel will scratch the surface.
There is even a smear where
the letter A used to be.

What can I do?

Maybe I can leave it the way it is,
so that they can see the aftermath
of what they called time.

Or

I can just create rain,
and the water will wash it all away,
and tomorrow,
I can start over again.

Wake Up

Another haiku,

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Wake Up

Lazy tortoise sleeps
by the river - when awake,
the leaves all gathered.

Metamorphosis

I have not been writing any new poem lately so I decide to spend sometime looking at old drafts and editing some of my work. Because I have just finish like 3/5 of my finals, already I got sometime to write and work on my poem. I'm still working on one of my poem, but I did find some haiku that I wrote a year ago. So I decide to wrote some haiku first, as a warm up. Here it is.

(Also: not relate to the poem but: http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/654948

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Metamorphosis

Flowers blooming in
the field over there - while
The snow melts away.

Winter Walk

Winter Walk

I scream out your name on top
of the Eiffel Tower, hoping that
my voice will reach out to you.
I come back to Paris each year, just to do that.
Afterward, I take a stroll down
the same street,
the same alleyway,
the same route,
that we have walked last time
we were here on vacation.
I thought I could run into you by chance.
But during the stroll,
I can’t help but to notice
how much of the scenery have changed.
I wonder
how many years have Paris aged?
How many seasons have passed her by?
Does she even know
that it is Winter right now, waiting for Spring.
I thought it is kind of ironic,
how I can see you everyday in my dream,
but I can only meet you once a year,
every time I pass by your grave,
while wandering up and down these street.

One Summer

Darnish.... 2 more days until the semi- final. Mean 2 more days of procrastination >.>.. anyway, another haiku.

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One Summer

Why write a haiku?
Just like Summer comes and goes,
why makes life so short?

One Rose

Woohoo more haiku =)

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One Rose

One rose comes in Spring,
another comes in Winter,
watching the snow falls.

Dreams

Here is another haiku, enjoy =)

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Dreams

At night, I wait for
the moon to comes out - but all
I can see are stars.

A Child's Memories of a War

I just like to say that I am heading to the semi-final to the 13th Annual Youth Speak Poetry Slam! I was so nervous when I at the stage. I stumble at the beginning of my poem and I was like "Shit, now I wish I have my notebook with me". The event was pretty interesting, more intense than last year. A lots of energy and judge "booing". I was scare because a lots of the poet score like a 9.8 - 10, so I was like "uh oh". In the end I made it. I will be working on my poem for the semis! Here is the poem that I recite at the prelim.

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A Child's Memories of a War

The house are all left in ruin.
The lamp posts are armed with a dying flame
welcoming the soldiers home.

The wind howls at the sound
of the war raging in the distance.
The sky is blackened out by smoke.

And I am trapped here, in my room,
forced to listen to the gunshots.
Each night, the noise grows louder and louder

until I can hear it knocking on my door,
but I am too scare to answer it.
I mean, what can I do?

Because a child only know how to make wishes,
like a wish for a hopeful new day,
or a wish for the night to end.

But, a wish is a wish,
a gunshot is a gunshot,
firing in the distance, rocking me to sleep.

Sand of Time

I have been so busy lately (mostly schoolwork and mid-term. Just finis my last mid-term so I'm happy). I have not post up any new poem up because I have been working on a poem for the Youth Speak Poetry Slam prelim on the 21th (this Saturday). I was searching through my notebook and I found couple of poems that I wrote years back, and it still on the first draft. I found this haiku and I decide to work on it (didn't take much efforts). Anyway... here is the haiku

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Sand of Time

Memories are like
the seasons - slowly changing.
What will we forget?

A Morning Walk with My Shadow

I've been busy lately, the school work and finish up my poem for the Youth Speak Poetry Slam, but I manage to finish this poem. To those who read this poem, I have to admit, it is confusing. That is because it is meant to be confusing. I model this after a riddle that I still remember for a long time, and what is this riddle? Well, you have to figure that out. Once you figure out the riddle and solve it, then this poem will be a lot more less confusing. Enjoy.

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A Morning Walk with My Shadow

Every morning, I take a long walk
by the river bank.
The silence of the sleeping flowers
make the walk more soothing.

But today was different,
there is an orchestra playing
in the distant, that woke up the flowers
as it comes down the stream.

Then a ship emerges
from the sheet of fogs
and on board are men and women,
each one laughing and dancing.

Oh! How I wish to be there,
amongst their joyful laughters.
The only problem is that
there wasn't a single person there.

A Song for Clementine

This is a poem that inspired by an old song that I have not heard for a long time. After watching a certain Korean drama, the melody start to stuck in my head. I looked all over until I found out about the name. The song is "My Darling Clementine". This poem was also inspired one day while I was coming home from class on a rainy day, while singing the song. I hope the reader will be inspired by this poem (or song), after the song have inspired me.

Here is the song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUzQy4mmT3Q

In French:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jc11shj0aWc

P.S A minor readjustment, draft 2.

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A Song for Clementine

In a rainy day,
I like to take shelter under the tree
and listen to the downpour.

Sometime I catch myself
humming a soft melody.
I don’t know why,
perhaps it has reminded me
of a lullaby
from my childhood.

A lullaby that have been locked
deep within my memory,
only to be driven out
by the sound of the raindrops.

Who knows...

But it is very warm though,
just sitting here
without my jacket on,

listening to myself humming,
even long after the rain have stop.

A Poem on the Sand

Here is a poem that I came up with when me and my friend went to the beach. Hope you guy like it.

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A Poem on the Sand

The simplest joy in life for me
is to be able to walk on the beach
when the tide is low.
The sun is just about to set in the distance
behind the veil of fog.

I try to be careful,
watching my steps,
so that I would not disturb
the sand dollars around me
and the foams around them,

Then I write my name on the sand,
so that when the night comes,
I could sit here and watch
myself being carry away
by the tide.

I Never...

I have been so busy with school work (and procrastination), that I have been struggling on writing a new poem. I'm writing something new for the 13th Annual Youth Speak Poetry Slam, so it'll be awhile before I will post what I'm going to be reading for the contest. On the mean time, here is a poem (somewhat old).

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I Never...

I never seen the morning sun
Nor know the time it sets.
I never seen the stars up high
At night and living yet.

I never felt the morning breeze
That sways beneath my feet,
Or felt what life is really like
And what life really teaches.

I never heard the robins song
And never seem to tell,
That if the songs are even real
Or like that time stood still.

I never smelled the red roses,
Even the honey comb.
I never thought that any rose
Can grow to be alone.

I never tasted those raspberries
That mature in the Spring.
I never tasted those sweet syrup
Or salt upon the rain.

A Childish Sonata

Hey guys!!! Happy Chinese New Year Eve. It is suck that I have school on Monday and going to miss all the family quality time =(. Here is a haiku that I came up with on my long way back to San Jose (about 1 1/2 hours drive). Nothing much to say about it though.....

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A Childish Sonata

Bump buh, bump buh, bump.
Two hearts are dancing side by side.
Bump buh, bump buh, stops.

My Real Fantasy

This is one of my poems that I'm really proud off. This was my first poem that I actually performed with. I actually perform this in the San Francisco Main Library for "The Japanese American Internment Camp Project" about two years ago...

This poem is about a character inside of the internment camp, and how his perception of the world change because of this experience. There is a lot of in depth things to say about this, but I don't feel like boring you guys with it. So here are the poem.

P.S. I should have post this up during Dr. Martin Luther King Birthday, I guess I forgot. It is better late then never right?

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My Real Fantasy

Every night, the rain continuously falls.
The room sits in a majestic silence
that can’t be broken by any words.

The window is covered by sweats and dusts,
but I manage to get a glimpse
of a lifeless ray of the setting sun.

I wipe the dust from the windows,
moon light flashes my face,
welcoming me outside to the cold.

I look out and a coyote appears
and start singing to the moon.
The rain falls harder, with no end.

Still, I gaze out at the uncertain night,
the rain slowly forms into tears,
pelts the glass, shattering it twice.

I try to reach out, but the broken glass
stabs my hand as I struggle through,
and still I struggle until my hand is red.

My hand, now outside, is stained by my blood.
I wonder will it be worth it
just to feel the rain, so cold and dead.

I Walk on the Same Carpet Road

Wow, I haven't post up a poem in a while. Currently I am working on 4 poems at once, so it is giving me a headache... and more of a writer block than it is helping me.

Here is a poem I wrote for my animation class (I was suppose to do an animated poetry for my project but it didn't get finish)

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I Walk on the Same Carpet Road

I hold the crescent sun
so that I can place it in the center
of the coiled cosmos.

Where the light looms over
the erupted mountains, the swollen sea,
and the Earth I stand on.

As I walk, I look behind to see
the mountains perish
to the tip of the universe.

They stretch away

to signal the start of
the race against the stars
to the end of the universe.

but was interrupted by the wide-spread cloud.
They sucked up the stars
and spit it out, striking the ground.

There, beneath the earth I see
a dead layer that showed the reflection of the clouds.
These cloud compressed

and ripped open

to reveal an eye
looking down.