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A city abroad. A long way from home. New country to new home.
And the universe gave birth to the one body a second time.
These pavements have never been walked upon by the little feet of Vietnam.
Pavements walked by many; yet the feeling is so refreshing.
A Street she will never walk down, decisions she will never make.
As irrelevant as it may seem, no matter how pointless our existence may be.
A human can wonder, and wander.
A human. That is all I am, and that is all I will be.
Nothing we do makes a difference in the great scheme of things.
As we are a speck in the history of a universe that is billions of years old
this poem was extracted from a short story I had written from an English assessment I submitted for a creative task. The task was to write a minimum of 1700 words about an experience of cultural difference and power structure. There are two more parts and I will be posting them straight after this is posted please read them also. These poems are of the character 'Minnie Ngyuen's' own work. Minnie would like to share with you her experiences
Umi May 2018
Inspiration, alike joy comes in different types,
It could be as simple as a little wallflower, or as complex as astrophysics, or even more than that, what counts is the source,
Allowing us poets, from a simple emotion, to develop a piece of art,
Allowing the artists, to express themselves within beautiful illustrations, each unique in style and shape, even if some parts may look as if they have been repeating themselves a couple of times,
A word of love can be enough after all, to set a lonely heart ablaze,
Such is the beauty of this earth we are living on, the beauty of being different from one another, but finding what ties us together is truly magnificent, with each difference may come a nice mutality,
Some look up to the sky, shining beyond the scene, the sun brightens up their mood, followed by the dearness of the dazzling white clouds,
Others may find a rainy day wonderful, the raindrops which can be interpreted as tears are but for them falling jewels from the heavens,
These are a few examples of what may birth inspiration, but it can be even smaller, like a small, delicate corn of dust.

~ Umi
Mary-Eliz Apr 2018
Six to Twelve
(My Big Sister)


My sister,
she’s a silly ol’ priss.
Know what she did?
She gave her boyfriend a kiss!
Blech! Doesn’t she know
boys are just yucky?
Doesn’t she know
they’ll make you buggy?

We used to do things together,
my sister and me.
We’d play in our yard
And climb up our tree.

But now when my sister
Arrives home from school,
She calls up her boyfriend.
She thinks she’s SO cool.
She giggles and whispers
Closed up in her room.
She stays there forever!
Well…
All afternoon.

She’s acting so silly.
It must be a stage.
But I won’t be like that!
When I get to her age!

Twelve to Six
(My Little Sister)


My little sister,
she’s such a pest.
She goofs off in the morning
when she needs to get dressed.

She has to be reminded
to brush her teeth and her hair.
I have to tell her what to do sometimes
and even what to wear.

She can really get in my way.
I want to be serious,
but she wants to play.

I wonder will she ever grow up?
Will she be cool like me?
I know I was her age one time
but I was more grown up, you see!
Also for the children's book.
Aleeza Mar 2018
the thing I hate admitting the most
is that I miss you

a familiar feeling, this I know
residing in the base of my ribcage
pushed down with every breath I take
tucked away in the shadows of everyday
supposed to be forgotten until a more convenient time

but what is a convenient time
when every minute passes like nothing
when days and weeks drag on like eternities
when my waking hours are pockets of time turning up empty

I get stuffed into cars and trains and planes
watching as cities go by like mere blurs in my vision
counting broken streetlamps and closing my eyes against the dawn
drumming my fingertips against my seat
looking over at my sleeping companions
and thinking about how it felt to hear you whisper softly
asking if we’re already there

used to take deep breaths while lowering my shoulders when I’m with you
used to let my laugh resonate in the too-quiet spaces
used to let you know about what I have always hid from the world
used to hold my arms open for you to come into

but now I’d rather not stay too close to you
knowing that my everything will go rigid at the tension I didn’t even know we had
too aware of every word and every sound I make
a longing to go back but understanding that everything  is well in the past

we are adults now, after all
no more of the youth that made us giggle at each other’s shenanigans
talk of dreams isn’t even something we have time for
as we end up worlds away from a home we’ve shared over the years

maybe we can tell them that we tried
what with all the differences that became bricks in the wall between us
knocked on each other’s doors and holding onto a shred of hope that somebody will answer
picked up conversation again and again but knowing it will go nowhere
not the nowhere we used to be lost together in
but the nowhere we now hate

I don’t know how to talk to you
about the hate I feel for myself and how I want to claw my own being out
about the exhaustion that won’t go away with sleep
about old pictures that I can’t even bear to look at without feeling sad
about how much I want to talk to you after all this time

sometimes I’m worried I might forget
the sound of your laugh whenever I try to dance
because all my life I’ve never been great at moving in time to music
how your hands are holding me by the waist and trying to guide me through steps
those eyes I can’t look into anymore sparkling with contentment
the last strains of a song from somewhere enough for us to glide to

or maybe in a few years’ time I won’t remember
the soft but sure way you lean into a hug
arms around me with so much strength and yet the most care
I never knew what fitting perfectly with someone felt like before you
telling me things I can’t quite comprehend through all my tears
and I have so many words, none of which I can say
because how can you understand when even then, right there in your embrace
we were already so far away?

I keep myself up at night to try to run through it all
how we’ve soared and fallen and gotten up again and again
offering arms and hands to steady each other
sharing earphones and nodding to music only we can hear
quiet moments where we both looked down at our laps
our uneven breaths as we walked back with the sun only starting to set

I’d hate to ask for time
when for a while it was me who couldn’t make time for you
making excuses and shutting you out from the chaos of who I was
but I need it now more than ever
with the burden on my spine pushing me down further

no, I don’t want to ask you to carry it with me
for it is mine to bear
all I want is the way you used to hold me as I broke
maybe it won’t put everything back together like it used to
but for now, I don’t need it to

I’d hate to ask for explanations
when I don’t even have one for how I set out on my own without you
drifting from you like the paper boats on floodwater
but I want my heart to be quieted
from the doubts that plague it but have long been ignored

no, I don’t want to ask you to fight to keep this
for it is I who caused the rift
all I want is to hear about how it felt to see me go where it was hard to follow me
all I want is for you to explain why when you told me I was beautiful in a language I couldn’t understand, I still knew
why you keep telling the world I’m someone to be proud of when even I’m not proud of myself

I have come to accept it all, though
watching as your back disappears into the shadows after being bathed in neon
turning to the sea of glitter and flashes and smiles
knowing this was your world too
and choosing to leave it all behind is best
you say there isn’t much of a place left here for you
I keep thinking that your place is with me

but I will go back to the place where we grew together
dance to the songs you forgot to pack with you
let my smile reach the heavens we stared at for too long
watch as everything blurs as I go
knowing that someday, maybe
you will know what place to come home to.
Karisa Brown Mar 2018
What she wonders
What is it now
What do you want from me
You grovel at my feet
Hoping to be fed
I have no more to give you
Last night's bread
was all there was

These orphan lots
Set beneath me
Spend nights awaking
the dead things
That I sleep in

They crawl beneathe my veins
Hidden in shame
I drown thee
With perfect obligatory
With knives
Held captive
And needle poked in eyes thread

These words become jummbled
So I throw them up instead
Melt me many men
Have them come in
Shake off their grievances
Give thanks for what's been

Wonder if you might
You might just
Give them a fright
Lot Feb 2018
Is it emulation or imitation?
Don’t both equal copy and paste?
But a cookie-cutter dream gets hard to be,
especially out at sea
I gasp and splash,
but my system crashed
So I try to pass and grasp,
but sink further from the grass
I am an iron anchor upon the seafloor,
shedding flakes of red rust,
just left to be an empty husk
The harsh salt water: my liquid brander
Conformity leaves me an empty-hander
I always seem to be going through a rough patch in my life, trying to keep up all of my masks doesn't help.
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