Rusty Lamppost
It's already late June
and I didn't remember
that water lilies are now in full swing
until running upon a pond of summer glamour.
While young girls
are all dressing themselves up in tune
with the season of passion
and gazing admiringly at the pink petals,
what concerns me most
is the old worn and rusty lamppost
sighing in an obscure corner.
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Call It a Night
Let's call it a night,
but that doesn't seem right.
After devouring numerous grilled clams,
white shrimps, oysters and ice creams
at a grill house for hours,
I still can't conjure up a ravishing poem or two,
which absolutely makes me blue.
How should I stay in a good mood
after wasting so much seafood?
How should I, sooner or later,
meet my maker
if I'm nothing but a fertilizer maker?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unrequited Love
The early summer morning's bright,
and the vibe of a mini park's right,
so I gaze amorously
at a pink daisy nearby.
Regrettably,
she turns her goo-goo eyes
towards the nonchalant sunlight
in the distant skies.