Hair

Hair

Flowing river

Provider of shade

Like a Viking helmet

As smooth as a silk scarf

Safer than concrete roofs

Lovely long locks

Hair

1 Jordan Road (old campus)

I don't even remember I wrote a poem like this. Way back in Primary 5, our teacher forced us each to write a poem on our school. Her name was Miss Koo. She left the year after that. I never saw her again, but I still remember that her shoe came off one time when she was walking into the classroom.

I really like DGJS,
The classes there are fun.
English classes are the best,
Miss Koo is number one.

I have a friend called Chow On Yan,
We always play with Madeleine.
She can make a really pretty fan,
For waving on Sports Day, cheering us to win.


My other friend Rachel,
Who’s bottle often leaks,
In her red satchel,
While the teacher speaks.

Faithful friends and challenging Chinese class,
Are rocks in the bottom of my heart,
There, forever they will last,
Like cherries on a tart.

Creature Trouble

One of my poetic compositions from school in Primary 6. We only had an hour so it's not very good.

The janitor came in,

With a large box.

It was tall, up to my chin.

We all guessed: Adventure Box! Then –

Oooo! Spooky!

The box wiggled and wobbled

And out flew a swan!

It stared at us – 32 gaping mouths,

Ruffled its feathers,

And up it flew.

We screamed as the lights came crashing down,

Shrieked as the fans swung round and around.

Our books flew,

Paper blew.

The classroom became a “chaosroom”.

Everyone tried their best,

To shoo it back to its nest.

Tracy tried with a recorder,

It didn’t quite work.

Wendy tried with a water bottle,

That didn’t work either.

The saviour came in,

The janitor took off his shoe,

In the air it spun.

The swan flew out,

And the class cheered.

The party stopped,

A moan came from the back.

“Ouch! I’ve been hit by a boot!”

“I’m gonna faint, you janitor brute!”

Her last words were,

“Anyway, I could’ve done that.”

Guilt

This is another poem I composed for the Budding Poets competition last year.

Guilt

Guilt is a consequence,

It comes after pretense,

It follows a broken fence,

It links to stolen presents.

When is the time of guilt?

It appears when milk is spilt,

It sticks with buildings badly built,

It occurs when your flowers wilt.

I know you are thinking of that test,

On which you did not do your best,

Instead of studying, you rest,

And cheated like a bad pest.

Guilt will forever lodge in your heart,

Even if you are stunningly smart,

From guilt you will never depart,

But stick alone together like art.

So go confess your sin,

Or you’ll sizzle in hell’s oven.

And guilt shall be a tin,

And lock you deep within.