Friday, July 30, 2004

Don't - poem

Please, please...

Don't be too good to me, I might miss you.

Don't be too caring for me, I might like you.

Don't be too sweet to me, I might fall for you.

Don't be too concern about me, I might cry b'cos of you.

Don't give me too much T-I-M-E, I might love you.

- Bee


The Moral of the story:
Don't want to go back to my dream nor chase after the wind.

posted Friday, 30 July 2004

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Monday, July 26, 2004

She - poem

At birth, she almost died;

At one, she's the apple of grandma's eyes.

At two, she's so adorable and cute;
At three, she played with anything new.

At four, she wondered about life in the day;
At five, she cried when grandma passed away.

At six, she wanted to leave her home;
At seven, she lived life in the gloom.

At eight, she wished she were dead;
At nine, she never lifts her head.

At ten, she knew life's cruel;
At eleven, she believed in "Never."

At twelve, she saw the Light;
At thirteen, she found her Friend and Guide.

At fourteen, she knew life had meaning;
At fifteen, she prayed in the evenings.

At sixteen, she knew what she'd work as;
At seventeen, she went ahead to be just that.

At eighteen, she knew her work made her glad;
At nineteen, she guarded her heart so it won't be sad.

At twenty, she thought someone might understand;
At twenty-one, she knew no one could sense.

At twenty-two, she learned to run or defend;
At twenty-three, she built her fence.

At twenty-four, she wondered what's the best use of life;
At this time, she knows to love is the best before one dies.

And the best expression of love is one's TIME for the loved ones before it flies to the sky.

- bee

posted Monday, 26 July 2004

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Saturday, July 24, 2004

The Day of Birth and Death - poem

Yesterday the 'candles' flame died' as I expected,
since it wasn't the real one, just my imagination.
Supposed to have the real candles last night
but no flame in sight, what a sigh!

Yesterday was a special day for me indeed,
received greetings from friends, including strangers.
Supposed to be the day of birth,
but it seemed like the day of death.

I could see her beautiful body lying peacefully
inside the beautiful clear glass box just like snow white did,
no more sorrow, no more tear
just the joy of listening to sweet heavenly tune.

Loved ones kissed her goodbye,
as she left her body behind,
no more sorrow, no more tear
just the joy of listening to sweet heavenly tune.

- Bee

posted Saturday, 24 July 2004

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Friday, July 23, 2004

My Birthday Candle - poem

Can't remember my own birthday usually,
and I don't tell people about it normally.
To me, birthday is for others
rather than for the birthday person.

Birthday is a chance for others to show that they care,
and not for the birthday person to celebrate,
since every birthday is a reminder to the birthday person
that he or she has one year less on earth.

But then I received a nice 'birthday cake'
with hot burning 'candle' on it.
I tried blowing the 'candle' on the 'cake',
but the 'undying flame' will not go away.

And if the 'candle' continues to burn,
the 'icing' and 'cream' on the 'cake' might melt away.
Yet it will burn only for today, I guess,
'cos today is my special day.

The 'flame' will go off tomorrow, I said.
Then don't blow it off, he said.
But the 'candle' will grow shorter and soon die, I said.
Then use candle that won't die, he said.

Fake one perhaps but no heat, I said.
Electric one has heat, he said.
Ah, creativity and imagination runs wild again
just because it's my special day.

posted Friday, 23 July 2004

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