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?

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.

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.