If I Were A Bed

    If I were a piece of furniture, I would be a soft, relaxing, supportive, and dreamy bed. Squashy and cushiony as a pillow, the bed adjusts its shape for the comfort of people around it. The bed with a heavy man lying on it have a curved surface, whereas the bed supporting a lighter man is relatively flat. Being a susceptible person, I can be easily pulled into delight by an optimistic person, and covered in silence by a reserved friend. Bed is the place to lounge and idle for days. Relaxing and procrastinating until midnight is definitely my style. The bed supports whoever that lies on it. Similarly, I unconditionally support my beloved ones. Bed is my retreat into a world full of sweet dreams and my cradle of imaginative fantasies. As fanciful as every teenager, I am always enwrapped in dreams of my future. As susceptible, slothful, supportive and fanciful as I am, bed is the mere image of me.

If I Were

If I were an animal, I would be a sea sponge,

sitting on the seafloor silently.

If I were a car, I would be Toyata,

cheap, but environmentally friendly.

If I were an article of clothing, I would be socks,

unobtrusive, but warm.

If I were a day of the week, I would be Sunday,

with a "Sun" in my heart.

If I were a piece of food, I would be rice,

common, but nutritious.

If I were a color, I would be blue,

sometimes glittering, sometomes depressed.

If I were a movie, I would be Black Swan,

creepy, but capturing.

If I were a fragrance, I would be Daisy,

light and sweet.

If I were a building, I would be a coffee house,

where people talk and relax.

If I were a plant, I would be a jasmine flower,

small and unnoticeable.

If I were a musical instrument, I would be harp,

lethargic and slow.

If I were a shape, I would be circle,

round and easy to draw.

If I were a piece of furniture, I would be bed,

where relaxation and dreams settle.

If I were a song, I would be "You Belong With Me",

saying my love out loud bravely.

If I were a season, I would be spring,

when the days are longer than the nights.

If I were a TV character, I would be Sheldon,

anxious over triflings.

If I were a cartoon character, I would be Nobi Nobita ,

living a simple happy life.

If I were a machinery, I would be a camera,

recording the happiest moments.

If I were a phenomenon, I would be sunrise,

carrying light to somewhere.

If I were superpowered, I would be able to foretell,

acting as usual as if knew 2012 is a lie.

Sorry, I Love You

I have wandered 

on streets

love enclosed 

in my heart

and which

you were probably

sick of

for so long.

Forgive me 

for my deep deep love

so sweet

and so sharp.

Everlasting Friends

So much depends

upon

a crowded

classroom

full of sweet

children

and their plain

friendship.

"The Bull Calf" Poem Analysis

POETIC RESPONSE TO DO SEEK THEIR MEAT FROM GOD

Darwin's bloody "Survival of the Fittest" theory:

The one that gets his guns out faster survives,

While the one that only has sharp fangs as weapon dies.

Either way, death would take his possession from the world:

The lonely innocent boy and his brave father,

Or the starving poor cubs and their desperately hunting parents.

No one is wrong for killing the other.

This is the way the world functions.

The settler wants to protect his children,

The panthers wants to feed the cubs.

Their causes are never unjust,

but the denouement is always cruel and morose.

Can human and animals ever live together in peacefulness?

I guess this can only be a dream that exists in the Eden,

Where all of us are vegetarians with no desires of urban life,

And all of the animals are docile little angels without sharp fangs.

POEM : LOVE

Love

Love is the palpitation

when I hear his powerful, enthusiastic speech at the student council election.

Love is the spell

that magically makes me enchanted with his charming sandy hair.

Love is the solicitude

when he sprains his ankle in a school tennis match.

Love is the courage

to print my name with a heart on a love letter and secretly drop it in his locker.

Love is the uneasiness

in the days that creep by like years, anxiously waiting for his answer.

Love is the ecstasy

when I hear his alluring voice, asking "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Love is the warmth

of seeing him holding a cup of latte, waiting outside my house in a chilly morning.

Love is the surprise

when he pulls out two movie tickets and a bag of honeyed popcorn.

Love is the rolling tears

to see him kneeling down with a sparkling diamond ring in hand.

Love is the determination,

when I say "yes" in front of God in my snow-white dreamy wedding dress.

Love is the blushes

on my bashful face when his balmy soft lips touch mine.

Love is the content

of watching him frying an omelet for me for the first time in his life.

Love is the joy

at our picnic in Stanley Park on a bright Sunday afternoon.

Love is the support

when I am old and wrinkled and doddering with a crutch.

Love is the agony

to see his black-and-white photo hanging on a frigid gravestone.