Elements of Life (p.2)
A Letter From Loneliness (Letter poem)
Dear my friend
You may try to avoid me
You may be scared of my presence
That seems to discourage your enthusiasm all the times
And makes you sorrowful and depressed
But, have you ever thought?
I am the only one, the only companion with you when no one’s here
To comfort you with silence and tranquility.
No, you cannot understand
You can’t never know my true self.
Who would you turn to when your friends isolate you?
Who would be there for you to pour out your restrained feelings and emotions without ever arguing against you?
Who it would be?
Who it would be?
I know I am not human’s favorite like Happiness or Fortune
I am just a murky shadow that waits for the chance to stand by you when you’re lost.
Because I comprehend you, I never attempt to cause conflicts inside you and just simply let you free with your internal thoughts.
Sometimes, I myself feel alone, cold and surrounded by darkness.
Then I silently let my teardrops pour down.
No one sees, no one knows, no one understands
That scary cold catches me, seizing me until I blends myself into nothingness.
That’s sad, isn’t it?
A Letter From War (Letter Poem)
Dear Human,
To begin with, I am War
The one that you think only brings about pain and death
The one that creates chaos and disturbs priceless Peace.
But, remember this
You choose me; I never choose you
Who would prefer a monster like me?
Who would live their days in misery?
Because of your beast-like nature, you create this entity
To show your power, to dominate the inferior to their pleas
A ha! Wanting to fight back
For my stupid claim
Come here, come and beat me if you can
Oh, no, you only make me stronger
From feeding me with your anger.
You, human, are nothing different from me
You’re senseless, harsh, and brutal
Always desiring for power.
Everyday, you bring me back from death and inflict pains upon your species
Never a day passing by without ever a complete peacefulness.
Gun, bomb, rocket, poison you create
To make sure you’ll be able to determine others’ fate.
Sometimes I think you should let me retire
For I am tired of being complained that I am the one to cause casualties and shower the world with blood and destruction.
But you keep calling me. Yay..., exhausted, you know
I am well aware that I am important in your life as without me, you would never flourish and be able to prove yourself
You would never make progress for I am the key.
Conflict, conflict, conflict, they should help you, human, right?
My quick reminder is almost done
I should come back to work now
Somewhere in Middle East, bombing I can sense
People are crying, screaming; they’re so annoying
Running for life or death may dance with you tonight, you, the inferior!
If you want to survive, fight back, why not?
It’s still better than being victims of those “virtuous” people
Who give you bombs to please your traumas
Who are willing to kill you to ease your pain
I think it’s a smart strategy to kill humans for the sake of humans
I should leave by now. They’re calling me.
See you soon!
I used to be your love (I used to...but now Poem)
I used to be your love
Used to think of no one else but you
Used to drink the memories we went through
Used to use my heart to melt your blue
Just like the way your old self could do
But, something had changed
You used to brighten my day with that vivacious face
Yet cold dominated it and seared with a depressing gray
You used to be here with me at this cozy shore
Yet no, our togetherness did not remain anymore
I used to ponder what jealousy was for
Until he appeared and closed our loving door.
Math Is Life (Free verse)
What if the world existed without Mathematics?
What if humans live on without Calculations?
Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication, Division
All descend into the realm of nothingness.
Transactions would not be completed;
Sellers would go bankruptcy;
Businessmen would be out of employment,
For prices would not be determined,
For economic strategies would be impossible.
People would wonder how to make ends meet
How to make plans, how to deal with their problems.
Chemistry, Physics, Biology all come to an end
Being blocked among unsolved equations.
Literature would be a queen without king.
Societies all’d become deteriorating,
No advancement would be made,
Human would return to primeval age
Without ever using Derivative and Integration.
Landing on the moon would be a dream;
Diving under vast oceans would be only in imagination.
Life, thus, cannot move on without this important component.
Whitney Houston (Name Poetry)
W is for Wonderful, you’re a creature of God
H is for Heaven where you’ve descended from
I is for Impossible to describe for angelic voice
T is for Talented, you’re as a singer
N is for Natural, your feelings are through your performances
E is for Emotional, we get as listening to your songs
Y is for Yesterday, we feel when you were still here
H is for Harsh, life has treated you badly
O is for Original, your works are to audiences
U is for Unique, your voice is one of a kind
S is for Sacrifice, you have for music industry
T is for Timeless, your songs are in our hearts
O is for Obsessive, we are to hear your sudden death
N is for Need, we feel to have you here.
Rain (Dramatic Monologue)
It is a December rainy day
When human vitality seems to fade away.
Darkness dominates over the gleaming lights.
The whole tiny village is deprived of delight
Fallen leaves smother in the strong gust of wind
Coupled with its chilly, blinding human sight.
The disordered natural tears drop on the rusted roof
Bending legs against my chest, how I feel aloof
Wishing you to be here with me at this time
Though I know well you from afar should be fine.
Six months you’ve left for paying my own debt
Why does money issue is so hard to forget?
I am not sure that future to any extent is secured
To be worthwhile for what you by now have endured
In the biting cold shanty town of cash-rich Tokyo
When your life is nothing different from a domino
Selling for faceless people, you’ve sold your true self
Happiness’ gone, only tiredness and distress I could tell
Through wrinkled letters that seem dampened with tears
Your handwriting is no longer taken by delicate care
Please, turn your head back for you’re suffused with despair
I never want you to breathe that exotic air!
Thach Sanh Ly Thong (Narrative Poetry)
Once upon a time, I was a virtuous alcohol seller
A monster appeared for flesh and blood, scaring every dwellers.
Scholarly mandarins and renowned soldiers tried, yet futile
Having to offer an adult every month for the brutal
Whoever can kill it, half of the country would be the reward.
One day, Thach Sanh I saw out of the forest, couldn’t be ignored.
Healthily he answered , “I’m alone. My parents, both are gone.”
Pitiful as I was, giving a generous suggestion,
“Come to my house to work and your loneliness would be lessened”
From there, my business had flourished partly with his diligence.
Unluckily, one day, I was the chosen adult for the beast.
I felt faint, restrained for my business would be incomplete
Without my diplomatic skills and gifted persuasiveness.
My mom will depress; her emotional pain will never end.
No blood relationship made my brother a victim so perfect.
Kindly accepting, he went for the gloomy lair of the monster
In a starless night while I tormented myself and pondered
How cruel I was for deceiving my innocent brother.
However, the unexpected spirit came back the next day
With his marvellous victory, bringing the orgress’s head he slayed.
Jealousy arose but I didn’t oppose and had to treat him
A party for his glory and an end to my lucky friend.
The glistening silver glass of wine shall bring someone to death.
Yet my mother called for help. This time I was poisoned instead.
Choking, falling, I, as a shadow, would bring this living soul dread!
My Present (Narrative Poetry)
Struggling as he was to fight against the dreary cancer
In the dimly lit room where death was only the answer.
I wondered whether the Saving God’s glory would be here
Taking away his endless sleep and my haunting fear.
Strangely, vitality came back; Gus returned from the death
Joyfulness we shared; marriage was possible at length
Sometimes, I recalled the world’s not a wish-granting victory
Enjoy I should though well-aware life is very trickery.
The important day came; our hearts were together framed
The unbreakable vow was claimed. How I felt inflamed
Melted by his enchanting eyes and choked by his charming kiss
Wishing this moment could last forever of the greatest bliss.
Yet, trauma fell, impelled me to the weakest version of strength
The colourless flowers seem dying to celebrate my end
With the gray floating clouds darkening my open door
Wake up, Gus, stay with me until I breathe no more!
His gaze locking mine, he knew words were no longer useful
His tears met mine; the shadow of oblivion seemed so cruel.
“Hold our little infinity in your heart till the end of time”
His face appeared murky when I gave the last breath of mine.
Those Winter Sundays
BY ROBERT HAYDEN
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?
Comment: Sadness and sorrow are what this poem brought to me. The child in the story, now as a man, regrets having been indifferent to his father who, he used to think, was cold and did not care for his child. However, only until the father gave his last breath, the child realized that the one who showed coldness and indifference was him, not his loving father who actually struggled to work for the child’s future. This plot, along with the nostalgic tone, was so moving and heart-touching and just like me and other people, the boy regret for having done something. This characteristic is inherently instilled in human mind as their very nature and is vividly depicted in the poem, making a big impression in my mind.
Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46461/those-winter-sundays
‘Out, Out—’
BY ROBERT FROST
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other 5
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said 10
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside him in her apron
To tell them ‘Supper.’ At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant, 15
Leaped out at the boy’s hand, or seemed to leap—
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand 20
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all—
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart—
He saw all spoiled. ‘Don’t let him cut my hand off—
The doctor, when he comes. Don’t let him, sister!’
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then—the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little—less—nothing!—and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.
Comment: Predatory as humans are, they seem to become automatons that hardly have any feeling and only know to work. This is exactly what the poem is about. It shows how insensitive people are to others, even their family and their friends. Though the setting of the poem is put in a woody place and seems not to be technologically advanced much, its underlying theme subtly betrays what people in modern society are doing. They become colder and make themselves automatons that are pre-installed to know how to do exact things without ever thinking deeply and feeling as human beings. They appear to have lost their ability of expressing their emotions and fast-paced lifestyle, monetary issue and other social problems indirectly belittle the importance of societal relationships, of blood bonds and of mutual understandings.
Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/53087/out-out
Suicide's Note
by Langston Hughes
The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
Comment: The conciseness impressed me at the first time I read this poem. Brief as it is, it enables the readers to make use of their imagination and make their own interpretations. Indeed, “Suicide’s note” is so condense that when someone happens to read this, he or she is highly likely to be amazed at its ability of evoking human imagination only with a few words. It shortly recounts a story of a woman who commits suicide and seems to have a strange hallucination in which she considers the river as her lover and the river appears to be “calm”, “cool”, and serene as a polished gentleman. This hallucination possibly reveals the reason why the woman wants to end her life. Under her eyes, the river, who is actually representative of Death - the one that everybody wants to steer clear of, is so serene and attractive. This contrast might be inferred that the woman has gone through some sorts of traumatic events and life seems so cruel and bitter to her that death is the only way to free her soul.
Source: https://genius.com/Langston-hughes-suicides-note-annotated
