Wei-Qi Ooi

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

Here I am,
Physics book,
right in front,
my tiredness,
closing in on me,
should I sleep?

No I shouldn't,
not with my ten unsolved problems,
why must it be so difficult?

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

What Poetry Means to me

It's my heart,
my voice,
my poetry.

While words are too simple,
poetry speaks for me.

While stories are too fictional,
poetry speaks for me.

It expresses feelings,
it makes me feel free,
for the poems I write,
who knows if it's true?

Regardless of the truth,
poems evoke feelings,
which I consider genuine,
regardless if it's the truth.

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

Playground

Swings, cars, a dog's bark,
I've been here the playground,
the one familiar place outside my school,
but it's not here,
just a memory.

I've been there this playground,
deep in my memory,
waiting to be forgotten,
but nostalgia remains forever.

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

Panda

How much can they eat?
Oh the green, skinny trunk,
the “less than a handful” leaves,
how much must be sacrificed to satisfy them?

I sit here on this wet bench thinking,
digging the earth of wood chips with my feet,
not caring about the other reality,
just wondering more of the black and white bear,
as I stare into the bamboo trees.

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

Pathway

The pathway towards two leafless trees,
I walked casually stepping onto some occasional mud,
The field to my right are of student statues,
observing their surroundings,
just as I was.

The pathway ended,
Two empty trees shaded me like a pair of poles,
It shaded me from the warmth of the sun and all that's left is the cold.

Divided by a flimsy fence,
cars zoomed by leaving a stench of smoke,
The birds however continued to sing.

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

The One who Raise Me

What can I say?
they are hardworking,
they are tired,
yet they never complain.

Why is it?
I feel guilty,
I feel bad,
yet I never do anything.

Their cheerful smiles,
it roams across the room,
so why is it?
I feel somber.

Yet I know,
how could I ever?
it’ll just bring shame,
If I tell them what’s on my mind...

Wei-Qi Ooi Jan 2013

The Sister I See

She sits there,
frozen like a statue,
fingers apart,
typing on the running technology.

Glossy eyes beneath her ever clear glasses,
as I watched her I wonder,
have we been consumed by lifeless objects?
is this our future?

Sitting lifelessly on the other consumer of our life,
only moving to adjust her glasses,
the girl sits there,
eyes pierced into the ever quadrilateral brightness.

The feeling of regret,
it illuminated the vicinity from the sitting girl,
yet I am doing the same,
writing this poem.

— The End —