To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

BY ROBERT HERRICK

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,

   Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

   Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

   The higher he’s a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

   And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

   When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

   Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

   And while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

   You may forever tarry.

Free Poem - Christmas

I heard bells ringing,

I heard familiar laughter,

Ho~ Ho~ Ho~

I quickly closed my eyes,

Mumbled and whispered,

"Oh, Santa Claus,

Share me your happiness".

I opened my eyes,

Happily walked to the window,

I saw darkness,

The familiar darkness

that I viewed every night.

Merry Christmas,

I say to myself.

Haiku Poems - Part 2

Breeze touches my face,

I stop and close my eyes tight,

Listen to the breeze.

Egrets fly so low

Above the water so cold
White shadow reflect.




Squirrel steal the seed,
Secretly hiding in leaves,

Munching happily.

Metaphorical Poems

Marriage is a plate,

Once it is broken,

It will never be mended.

Happiness is a banana,

Simple as peeling its skin off and eat,

Or make it into banana cake.

Life is a knife,

Stabbing us hard,

But making us grow.

Acrostics Poems

EMILY

Earnest

Moderate

Innocent

Loyal

Youth

YING

Young

Innocent

Native

Girl

ANDY

Angry

Nor

Dangerous

Yak

Poem - Fruit

When I think of a jackfruit,
I can see golden mouth-watering pulp covering the breed,
I can smell paradise aroma spread in the thin air,
I can feel the irritating sticky latex on my finger,
I can taste the juicy sweet coat which is freshly torn,
I wonder whether the boy Jack eats jackfruit too?

When I think of a mangosteen,
I can see soft purple sexy spongy texture protecting the white flesh,
I can smell its sexiness and naughtiness when I open it,
I can feel the fluid trickling down from its sexy skin to the gap between my fingers,
I can taste the white, sweet yet sour flesh rolling in my tongue,
But I hate the leftover on my clothes after a trivial fight with its sexy, tricky coat.

When I think of a papaya,
I can see an orange soft boat carrying thousands of stones in it,
I can smell the irritating awful washroom scent slowly spread to my nose,
I can feel its fluid spilt out excitedly just to tender my little fingers,
I can taste the silky smooth juicy flesh by scooping each side of the boat,
I wonder why the boat is now empty and no longer a sailing boat.

Poem - I'm old enough

I’m old enough to comb my hair,
I’m young enough to comb my grandchild’s hair.

I’m old enough to party whole night,
I’m young enough to sing a lullaby.

I’m old enough to enter a club,
I’m young enough to enter a coffin.