Wasted Love

Everything I see reminds me of you,
From the grass’ green to the sky’s blue.
Even as I walk over to visit, you still take up my mind,
Your beauty, your elegance, it’s all so refined.
I want to wholly accept the infatuation,
And yet my heart still tightens with frustration.

I see your beaming face in a toddler’s grin,
Chocolate dripping down their chubby chin.
I see your chiding laugh in the reflection of my change,
Your eyes in the pennies and nickels, it’s strange.
As I receive from the florist the bouquet of flowers,
I smell your fragrance, a scent I could take in for hours.
As I head down the street towards where you wait,
I can only remember the day of our wondrous first date.

Placing the flowers on your grave, I just yearn to know,
Where is all my wasted love supposed to now go?

Ares’ Flame

There seems to lie a certain charm in war,
Beauty in the soaring bullets you hear.
Elation in charging up with a roar,
A distinct joy in the enemy’s fear.

Why else does man carry on fighting,
Drawn into it like a magnet’s firm pull?
The god of war has to be delighting,
As our bodies are scattered with lead full.

Yet I cannot spot that grisly allure,
Even after countless years of combat.
Mangled bodies buried in a sewer,
I somehow don’t find the appeal in that.

The only answer fills me with distress:
Ares’ flame is not something I possess.

Out of Battery

A flash of light signals a new checkpoint,
Pixels passing across a vibrant goal.
The console gripped between ten weary joints,
Story dragging you down the rabbit hole.

The night outside swirls like a pitch-black ink,
Though that world you knew prior is no more.
Seeing only woods of monsters who wink,
Fatal battles against dragons who roar.

But the colorful world is ripped from sight,
The suddenly fractured illusion fades.
Inky gloom floods in and quenches all light,
Ending the vivid campaign of charades.

And yet in darkness there is one savior;
Autosave rescues careless behavior.

Beauty in Insignificance (Daisy)

No crown of gleaming metal, no fence of sturdy brass.
Instead, my home, my place to grow, is nestled in the sidewalk grass.
I sport no vibrant colors in spring, nor am I large in size,
I hear those other flowers laugh at me, wishing for my demise.

I admit that sometimes life feels tough, 
With my meager petals of white.
No red, no blue, no pink, no gold, 
Nothing but a monochrome spite.

But when autumn comes, when skies are clouded,
When the air begins to spread its frosty chill.
Those glamorous plants wilt, one by one,
While I endure with my resolute will.

I need no fancy fertilizer to support my leaves,
Nor constant water to act as a meal.
I just continue to grow, beside my brothers and sisters,
There’s beauty in insignificance, I feel.

No End in Sight (Ivy)

I stand by the highway wall,
Contemplating ivy.
It stretches along the rocky surface,
Like the grasping tendrils of a deep-sea squid.
For what reason do you stretch, I wonder?

Leaves unfurling like the sails on a verdant viking ship,
Snaking across the tides of stone.
Expansion like the conquest of Alexander the Great,
Conquering centimeters of unclaimed land.
Then the vines thin out in the uncharted,
Falling away piece by piece.
What awaits you at the end of that wall, ivy?
What will you do, once your extension reaches a void?

But, that’s not how it looks to you, is it?
Your mighty warriors surge on, day after day.
To your generals of green, sustained through the rays of sunlight,
Your two-dimensional world is still ripe for the picking.
You expand your leafy empire larger and further,
Because in your eyes, there is no end in sight.


I stare at the embers of my childhood, 
where emotions surged, where memories stood. 
The laughs of joy, the sun on my face, 
Charging down a beach for a race. 
The voices of my friends, beginning to tire, 
Huddled at night around a campfire. 
The beeps of my game, another victory, 
Yelling in triumph under the shade of a tree. 
I stare at the embers of my childhood, 
where emotions surged, where memories stood. 

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Never Forget

Gnarly branches of the tree outside,
Heated air of Hong Kong.
Available arcade booths at Chuck E. Cheese,
Never-ending sunshine of California.
Broken Lego sculptures littered all over the basement,
Affability of our cousin’s Border Collie, Jack.
To cannonball into Yosemite’s ice-cold swimming pool,
Arriving at Pinnacle Plaza.
Agitated shivers when my mom comes back from parent-teacher day,
Aegislash facing off my friend’s Braixen.
At what moments do you feel most at home?

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Kindness Poem

Be nice, be kind, fill other’s buckets.
Everyone’s bucket has to be filled.

Kindness is the key,
Into everything you do, say, think.
No one should be a bucket dipper.
Dippers can’t be happy, no matter how many buckets they dip.

Well, why do we need to be kind, then?
Hey, whenever you fill a bucket …
Yours fills too.

Now, why don’t you start filling?
Opportunities rapping at your door.
That, is the key to happiness and a great life.