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.

Wake Up

Another haiku,

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Wake Up

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

The Day is Old

I'm just going to post some older poetry pieces until I have time to finish my newer pieces. I'm planning to get one done before New Years, that mean I'll have one up by tonight. Actually I was planning to put this piece up on the 29th but never mind, too late now. By the looks of it, I guess I'll have to save it for the New Years (Jan 1, 09).

This old poem is actually the first poem that I finish and done, so it might sound a bit childish. I think it was the end of 10th grade when I finish this... or perhaps it is the end of 9th grade. Either way, enjoy!!!

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The Day is Old

Moon shine upon the lake,
The lake run icy cold.
Autumn leaves falling fast,
The night and day are old.

Bird sings along their mate
And watch their children play,
And soon these song shall end,
And like the end of day.

Icy breeze of the night,
Stories the moon have told.
None listen to his voice,
And days are growing old.

Day singing along the night,
And something still remain,
Like day fall into the dark
And next day born again.

Our day still growing short,
And soon we’ll like to know,
Why the song doesn’t last?
And day are getting old.