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Category: Eng

Thunderstorm

The sound of the heavy rain Is the spell to summon the nostalgia When the first sound rises and home is far  The young soul feels a century old Falls upon her shoulders The unweighted burden The invisible net She feels stuck Her childhood is a universe away She cries and cries But no tears on her face. (04/24/2015)

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My Sky Lady

I want to conquer the sky And if she doesn’t fall upon her knees I will kiss her gently She is bluer than the bluest Larger than the nothingness’ space And when I kiss her on the cloud lips I see my fate. (PR Case class, 04.23.2015)

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The lovely confidence.

Sometime I ask you why you didn’t find me earlier. You’ve visited my hometown several times, were there any chances we bumped into each other but then glided past? If we had found each other sooner, there would’ve been less pain we had to suffer. Or at least, on my side of the story. But then I realized such theory wasn’t right. Pains are good lessons to make us better. I’ve learnt a lot from it so that today I can be your own perfect girl. And the most important lesson is to learn how to be myself fully but…

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Ode to Age _ Pablo Neruda

(Athenbird) I don’t believe in age. All old people carry in their eyes, a child, and children, at times observe us with the eyes of wise ancients. Shall we measure life in meters or kilometers or months? How far since you were born? How long must you wander until like all men instead of walking on its surface we rest below the earth? To the man, to the woman who utilized their energies, goodness, strength, anger, love, tenderness, to those who truly alive flowered, and in their sensuality matured, let us not apply the measure of a time that may…

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Haiku of a duck

Yes, the thing you see below is a haiku, written by a duck. I’m kidding. I wrote it. But, can you just simply believe at least once it was composed by a duck? That would honor Mr. Von de Duck – the real author of this piece. Oops, I mistook. It was me, not him, writing the poem. Don’t get confused! You must know what is real and what is not; then, for the further step, you must learn to distinguish between unreal thingies and surreal thingies. And for a hint, they all should be real. Got crazy yet? Bahahaha!…

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3 poems for the Creative Writing class

(Photo: Zi Nguyen)

Some days ago, I had an assignment of three poems to submit in the Creative Writing Class. The first one is “standard”, the second has to be “fixed form” (haiku, sonnet, etc.) and the third one is freestyle. Sincerely, even my Vietnamese poems are quite clumsy, not need to think about those in English.

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Another Day

So, I’ve started to write in English. Let’s say, my English is not quite good (and sometimes I even don’t feel like writing in Vietnamese), but I think it’s already the right time for me to give myself a chance. With practice, maybe one day I will see my works on somewhere in the States.

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