Flip the Page

He flipped through the pages
Of his new book, that has a ton of pictures in it
And it contains simple words- a little amount of it.
For every word he read wrongly,
His father would kiss him in the forehead
And his mother would teach him the words.
Then, the teacher in his kindergarten class
would give him a butterfly sticker and a thumbs-up
Because he wrote a simple story
That he copied from the book with pictures on it.

He flipped through the pages
Of his new book, that has a ripped page in it.
His father said that it was his favourite book,
But he complained that there were no pictures.
Yet, his father kisses him in the forehead
And understand that he was young and naive.
And his teacher gave him a shiny gold star
Because he wrote a poem entitled, “Pictures.”
His mother put it in a picture frame and hugged her son.
While the father went out with a lot of money.

He flipped through the pages
Of his new thick book with no pictures at all.
He heard a lot of screaming and shouting
From the other room.
When his father came out,
He complained that the book was too violent.
His father scolded him and threw the book across the room.
Then, his substitute teacher wrote a remark
At the back of his paper
In his poem entitled, “Malice.”
Stating that it was too vicious.
He didn’t show it to neither his mother nor father.
So, he hung it in his wall with the other poems he wrote.

He flipped through the pages
Of a newspaper because he doesn’t have any books left.
He decided to write a story for him to read
As he does not want to bother his father
Who was snoring loudly while holding onto a bottle.
His teacher never gave him a score
Because she slept soundly at her desk thrice.
The students chuckled and continue their works.
His mother picked him up from school
And in their car, it has a strong smell of cologne,
But his mother only wears perfume
And his father never drives the car because he doesn’t know how.
He ignored the smell and showed the story to his mother
Who ended up crying so hard after reading.
He was confused as he wrote a funny story.

He flipped through the pages
Of an old book that he constantly repeat.
He asked his father to buy him a book.
His father nodded and head out.
When he came back, the father gave him a library book.
He was upset, yet, he read it anyway.
Then, he wrote a poem called, “Farewell.”
Whom he gave it to his teacher
Who was carrying a box of her belongings.
The teacher never gave him a perfect score,
So when he went home, he gave himself a star.
That was the time, she join his father
And they both drink while singing the blues.
His mother cried a lot that her make-up was ruined.
He threw her revealing clothes to the laundry basket
And hugged her son with the smell of cologne in her.

He flipped through the pages
Of his library book, that was from the previous day.
His mother gave him some money that she earned.
Even though, she doesn’t have a job.
His father went home unexpectedly,
With a smell of perfume that his teacher always wear.
His mother and father would never kiss each other
His father asked his son to hand him the money
So that he could buy him a new book that he wanted.
The one with dragons and knights fighting one another,
But he didn’t.
He wrote a poem called, “In the Dark Room.”
His new teacher gave him a bad score
Because it wasn’t related to the topic
That was assigned to him.

He flipped through the last page
Of his library book, that has a devastating ending.
He gave the book to his father who looked sophisticated
And asked him to return the book to the library.
He nodded and continue grabbing his belongings.
His mother put the clothes in a suitcase,
This time, she never cried at all.
His father carried the suitcase and head outside
With the library book in his other hand.
He stared at his father as he took a cab,
This time, he didn’t think
His father would ever return.

He flipped through the pages
Of his new book, that has a ton of pictures in it
And it contains simple words- a little amount of it.
He read every word correctly,
But his mother didn’t kiss his forehead
Because those were the only books she could buy.
Then, the teacher in his senior class
Scolded him for being a ne’er-do-well
Because he wrote a simple story
That he copied from the book with pictures on it.



The feeling of nostalgia is hitting me, forcefully.
My sentiments are combining- making a big bully.
Thoughts are constantly too overwhelming,
And I knew, personally, I won’t be winning.

The eradication of my optimistic self is beyond scary.
I am nevermore legendary.
However, I’ll do whatever it takes to fight back.
My feelings and I would go for an attack.

Obviously, it is I who would choose the winner.
Maybe my fears would be thinner
If I accept my emotions for who they are.
My happiness may come back from afar.

Acceptance is the key to unlocked the door.
Wish I could have done that before.
This is the easiest way for my fears to shrink,
Yet, deep inside, I am starting to sink.


The Shoes of Ascar

Ascar seclude himself from his surroundings.
He stayed in a room with his heart pounding.
Looking at his own shoes
He thought it was new.
Even though it’s raggedy and old,
It’s good enough to not make his feet cold.
However, no one likes his shoes.
To them, they were not amused
As if it was just a typical footwear.
To Ascar, he swears
That he’ll change.
If not, he will be at the shooting range.
In the next decade, no one will have a clue
On what happened to Ascar’s shoes.


Invisible Wings

What if we walk into this world with no gravity?
Would we float in the state of tragedy?

We may live like kings and queens in the sky,
But we are so close to the time that we’ll cry.

We would soar like the birds near the atmosphere.
However, we would all be living in fear.

We would touch the stars in a pitch-black night.
Yet, we could lose our sight from the very bright light.

As we continue to fly, we would be able to touch the moon,
But oxygen is limited anytime soon.

The wind would embrace us, dearly.
Holding onto us until the very end- even when it’s weary.

Our invisible wings may not last for all.
We can go back down, if we don’t fear the fall.


Letter to Person

(Letter- #1 – Written by Tracee Kyle)

Dear person,

My own sentiment is colliding with yours, but our intimacy has endured through many woes which I cannot define. My own contemplations have mixtures of joyous moments from when I began to creep out of my shell and walk freely to this world and beyond, I cannot assure myself to force you into so many troubles that may not define me in this foolish life of mine. So foolish, yet we lived like kings and queens in our mind. On the other hand, sorrow often crashes those cherished thoughts which set off a boundary for my desires. “Grand” is by no means my frequent utterance and I have been superficial with my feelings that it has become a habit. However, I believe that fate is behind this and it has been common for me to walk to the same path as fate. Furthermore, your enigma is increasing and you are making my soul curious in the depths of my own mind. Pardon my shame for acting ignorant towards you, I am controlling such a burden- a monster, perhaps, that I wish could be taken away, but at the same time, remorse would come along. I would be willing to get your empathy, but I’ll be damned if I intentionally perished you by keeping myself silent, my own self can be filled with woes too, so don’t sober.

Yours sincerely,
Clarke E. Tye


Your favourite book is collecting dust
In a treasure box, that is starting to rust.
No one would dare to touch
Because it is too much
To handle with care.
Although it’s rare,
A vagabond would burn it with fire
To keep himself warm- that’s what he desire.
Being friendless, a companion is what he seeks.
Even if he is contagiously sick,
Empathy is what comes into his mind.
While dealing with his disease, he signed
His name on one page that he took.
That was him- the author of the book.