English Project

English Poetry Project

We had to compose a minimum of 8 original poems and submit at least 5 of them to poetry contest or anthology. Here is the prove that I've submitted my poems:

I had submitted "Summer's Rain" to the Imagine's Creative Minds Poetry contest and...

 a collection of 5 original poems to The New Yorker.

My Poems:

Summer’s Rain

Oh summer’s rain

Flood the great dome with your gray

And shield me from the sun’s condemning gaze

Pelt down, summer’s rain

let your warm ichor soak through my vein

And wash away the winter’s vain

Come, come!. Barrage of drenching pallets

Flood the pavement to a river roaring

And overwhelm the glacial streams flowing

Let it cut through the bending fields

Take away the cones from the mud

And bring life to the iris bud

Let the symphony of the shivering leaves

Drown out the frosty breeze

And oppress the harrowing screech

Let your vigorous power enlighten me:

The blinding lighting that replaces the sun

And booming thunder that shakes the heaven

Let your holy water wake me from my slumber

And give me the life that you gave

To the buzzing plains of green

Childhood

In this white field my childhood lays,

So empty, full of wasted dream.

It calls to me: please stay!

While dazed, I row upstream.

“I’m not the same again, my friend.

I will be blown away, goodbye,

the time we spent will end”

I row, toward the sky.

I'm fading, dragged, the flow pushed on.

He thought I'll beat the vile, corrupting fates.

“He surely won't be gone.”

Alone, my childhood waits

Poem Writing

There Once was a boy writing poems and sighing

Brain hurting, he sat slowly dying

He searched for easy poems

He found limerick poems

And now limerick form he is writing

Warning to Those Who Lie

Those lend their pride to nothing, behold my friends,

You show, your viper’s tongue, that speaks of false,

your lores, so full of lies with word that bends,

That throw away your face in one wrong valse.

Your mouth will speak of nothing withdeceivee

Your heart, blaze black, will never shine again

Your soul will weep, it knows the pain you will receive

From truth, you stray, from virtue you abstain

Let not your words guide you, but actions proof

Speak not false lies but speak the words of truth

Don't let your phrase be full of silly goof

That twist, distort then bend and fold your youth

Deceiving Wild dreams and ego will never yield

The lasting truth will always be revealed

Perfection

Is it perfection?

If something is symmetrical on all sides?

Or

If there’s no boulder’s that we have to climb over

No storms, just a clear sky above the sail

And a cool breeze that carries our dreams

Or

If we are accomplished

Good grades, high IQ

And a successful career

that can be boasted by many rewards

Or

If we are loved,

by dedicated parents and caring siblings.

By friends that are always there.

There are people who value our existence

and one who’ll give us his or her soul

Or

Is it just happiness we seek?

If it is…

Why is the pass of seeking it full of thorns and greed

Full of hatred, destruction, remorse, suffering…

Massacres born from evil dreams

And plenty of failed dictatorships...

Why is the road of seeking it crisscrossed with wounded bodies...

Some dead jumping down from their egos

Others shriveled, weeping from their pain

As their soul turn more grey and grey...

Is perfection really what we seek?

My Dad

My dad is a giant

Who’s shadow drag across the continent.

Drowning my existence in its dark, vast sea

My dad is a mountain

One that i can not scale

and looms forever above my sight.

My dad is a dictatorship

Which rules supreme

with martial laws that keeps me in.

My dad is a statue

Full of fame and glory

and remembered throughout history.

My dad is a saint

Who guide me through the passage

and cleanse me of my deepest sins.

My dad is revolution

Unyielding with it dedication

and always supporting me

My dad is only human

Sometimes cold and rigid,

but unwavering with his affection

Sunset

As the red dips down across the horizon

as gentle as baptizing a baby,

flood in the colors

A tone so rich,

than Van Gogh’s palette

it is greater by far.

As if a white swan cut across a green lake,

tainting it with traces of mud and gray.

As if the deepest seas,

is blemished by a stream of blood

Lower the red dot lays.

Making the mountain join with the sky

now turning dark.

adieu, our light

Rest well in the night

and let you opening scene

be as great as your finale.

Shining Light

In our timid flight

We’ll always find this shining light

That lead our soul through