Growing Up

I rushed upstairs and smoothed my dress

Like mom always taught me to.


I rushed upstairs and smoothed my dress

Like mom always taught me to.

I eagerly opened the cabinet

There they were, my dolls and playhouse


But just as quickly I closed the door

And rushed back to my first boyfriend

A quiet boy with dark brown eyes

He leaned in for a kiss


But just as quickly my eyes fluttered open

And I rushed to open the door

My five year old son turned to leave for school

And I held the door to tell him goodbye


But just as quickly I burst into tears

And stood above the body

Of my husband six feet under.

I lay down on the ground to catch my breath


But just as quickly I found myself in bed

With my son crying by my side

And my grandson crying next to him.

but I did not know why.


Everyone I talk to tells me life is a set of rules

Everyone I talk to tells me life is a set of rules,

With internal rhythm and set-in-stone schedules.

It’s a planned pursuit, a calculated crime,

With structured time, and internal rhyme,

And meter and accents that must be in place,

And synthesized flow to set a nice pace,

And a clear and concise road to success,

which will maximize profit and minimize stress,

And a future of comfort and ease awaits,

For those who simply follow their fates,

But any and all who make their own way,

Will be starving or poor or led astray.


But I don’t think so.

I think life is a journey to find yourself.

And you may not be the perfect daughter.

Or you may not be the perfect son.

Or the perfect mother, or father, or uncle,

or aunt, or cousin, or sister, or brother.

But that is okay.

Because you are finding your own way.

You are finding your own path in life.

And no one can ever disrespect you for that.

News Update 1

Hi everyone! This is a quick update on the blog that I’ve been writing. First of all, some of my poetry has been featured as guest poetry! If you haven’t checked out Sophie’s blog already, it’s filled with inspirational poetry, advice, and literary masterpieces of the kind that I can only dream to write. Her blog Just that one Girl is available here. Second of all, I’m thinking of creating a “sister” comic to this blog. My friend and talented artist Vivian Ling and I are thinking of collaborating on a web comic that will combine her beautiful artwork and my poetry into a gorgeous work of art. The plan is that this blog will continue to be active and I’ll link the web comic to each blog post so you can have the full experience of the blog post and comic at the same time. Thirdly, I’m working on a poem that might take a little longer than usual. It’s not a long one but an exceptionally technical and difficult one. I’m afraid if I hastily post it, I’ll ruin its potential. Please comment and let me know your opinions on Sophie’s blog, the idea of a web comic, and any way I can make this blog better. Have a good rest of the day.

Harry The Performer

The man! The mystery! The mysterioso!

Who could be in that black mask?

Look at the tightrope- There’s Harry

He turns to face the crowds!

He spreads his arms; a mischievous faerie,

He begins his stroll high in the clouds.

Oh no! He trips and stumbles!

What will happen? Will he fall or succeed?

He spins around and nearly fumbles-

A lucky man indeed!


Harry fakes a smile and sighs deeply

The two hundredth time he’s “fell”

He shows it in his face briefly

As the audience screams and yells.

He crosses to the other side unscathed,

And his demeanor remains unfazed.


The man! The mystery! The mysterioso!

Who could be in that black mask?

The villain performs on the stage solo.

He calls a victim for his task.

He hypnotizes a poor young boy

And controls him with a flick of his hand.

He completes a myriad of devious ploys

And finishes all he had planned.


Harry pulls off his mask and slowly reminisces

He sends his young assistant back in the crowd.

He looks into the audience, the faceless abyss,

Full of expectations and judgement throughout.


Huzzah! Look over there, it’s Harry!

He’s holding a great big sword!

He swallows it like a strawberry

And he pulls it out fully restored.

He can pull a rabbit out of a hat,

He can teleport in the blink of an eye,

He’s can do flips-he’s an acrobat

He can even sprout wings and fly

What he cannot do, no matter the place

No matter the circumstance,

Is relive his brighter, younger days,

The days of his first performance.