Haste Autumn (A poem)

Haste Autumn, come and take

Sad memories, no sound make

From that tree I used to stay

With my love spending a day

Chatting, giggling and the leaves

Spying on the love we weave.

Summer is over, dark the sky

Leaves are broken and dry

Haste Autumn, the past end

And my heart heal and mend

Fresh leaves Spring will bring

A new love for me to sing.

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Chubby and Confident (A poem)

I’m not a sexy chick

An old chubby hen!

Four words, do you love me?

Then kneel with a ring

Or waste not my time

I have a queue of men.

The Mortal Spool (A poem)

Around the mortal spool

She rolled her precious thread

Gray, black, white and red.

She rolled it carefully, with a muffled breath

Concealed the odious black

Behind the white thread.

She labeled the gray part with excuses,

With justifications.

And proudly warbled about

The clean obvious thread,

Harshly scrubbed the red.

She kept rolling and rolling

Wistfully knowing, this is coming to an end.

A divine fatal cut would determine

How dark, clean, vague or bloody

Her life before it ends.