poem = apple?

Poetry
photo of apples on a tree
You might be thinking…an apple a day keeps the doctor away.

It’s kinda funny how pen-to-paper works. You just start with a general thought, then it develops into something fun or serious. I find writing poetry therapeutic. I suggest trying to write a poem. However, if you can’t handle poetry try keeping a diary. I still have my old diary from when I was about 8 years old. It’s enjoyable to read it occasionally.

“Apples”

A poem a day keeps the shrink away.
This simple remedy keeps your thoughts at bay.
Don't know what to write?
Just grab a pen and turn on the light.
Jot down just one word and soon his friends will join.
And pretty soon, a poem is born.

-Monica Ng

In this thing called life, things don’t always need to make sense.  That’s what keeps things fun.

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A whisper (poem)

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This poem is dedicated to Narendra Nayak, a fellow blogger (asliveroflife.wordpress.com), whose insight into our lives as humans and our existence are much in line with mine. I have been rather uninspired lately to write poetry, but after enjoying his photography and writing, I wrote up the poem below last night before sleeping.

word whispers

A whisper

whisper in my ear
what you want me to tell you
for I don't know what you want to hear.

time is like the steam rushing to escape the kettle
only to be left with none.

will you love me forever?
touch my hand so I know everything will be ok?

just one glance and I fall all over again
before I say goodbye.

In this thing called life, we need to take some time to ponder. It allows us to gain insight into ourselves and those around us.

Here I Stand (Poem)

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graphic question marks
Why, why, why?

I hope you are enjoying my poetry. This poem was also written in Grade 9.

It’s a reflection on society and the world we live in. Pretty deep stuff…

In this thing called life, it is important to know that we are not the only ones who are confused.

Here I Stand

I am confused.
I don't know where to go.
Or when.
I don't know why, 
The earth is round,
Why we hurt and suffer,
Why we laugh,
Why we cry,
Why we are so selfish,
And unkind.
I wonder how cruel man could be,
Destroying all that is good for him. 
Feeling no compassion.
There's a lot more that,
I don't know,
But,
I do know that,
I am not the only one.

- Monica