End of Spring

youth ‘s  ebbed

my health ‘s worn  away

my skin ‘s   wrinkled

my hair ‘s  turned gray.

My joints once sturdy

now quake and ache

my hands once steady

now noticeably shake .

It’s been a long journey

Sprinkled with memories

Dim and bright

Daubed with deeds

Wrong and right

Dotted with  sweet successes

and many  foul failures.

The Beggar


Seated on  cardboard

shabby and swarthy

careworn and haggard

stretching a cadaverous hand

covered with calluses

to make an urgent demand

for money and food .


Some  people pass  by

turn their heads away

seem not to care

they refuse to see

as if  nobody is there.


Others hear the plea,

rummage their pockets

only for a short while

and hand  some dimes

enough to paint a faint smile

on a face furrowed by  hard times.


Void Soul

I’ m glad to get the Thursday perfect poet award     http://jingleyanqiu.wordpress.com/2010/06/11/thursday-poets-rally-week-22-the-perfect-poet-award/

my   rosy dreams have faded

drooped , withered

and crumbled to ashes.

despondency  oozes

out of  the myriad cracks

in  my derelict  soul.

my wrinkled heart

beats listlessly ,  slowly

on the rythm of loneliness.


under  the heavy tension

and the insufferable pain

my congested brain 

becomes a real bomb

ready to go off.


I nominate Tim Keeton for the perfect poet award, he possesses  huge  poetry talents.

Mea Culpa

I did hurt you

shame on me

but let’s start anew

I hope you ‘ll agree.

I pricked your pride

shame on me

but let’s move on side by side

Cos I  luv  thee.

I made you cry

shame on me

but lets’ give it a try

I think you won’t disagree.

I beg you to forget and forgive

and wipe grudges away

I hope you’ll stay

cos  without you , I can’t live.

In 6 Seconds

I’m proud to receive the perfect poet award once more.I’d like to thank Jingle and all the participants in the thursday poets’ rally for their sustained efforts and unconditional commitment.


On a dreary summer night

a car runs a  red light

brakes screech

a pedestrian is  hit

bystanders scream

The world comes to a halt.

A tub of ice-cream

Crushed  on the asphalt

A tiny boy lying nearby

Bathing in blood.


I nominate Shakira for the perfect poet award.

My prayers for her and her daughter.

I love This Game

I love this lovely  game

a  game of money and fame .

a game of unbelievable shots

a game where the atmosphere is hot .

I love Fedrerer’s fantastic play

and Nadal’s show on clay.

I love Roddick ‘s  fast serve

and Murray’s wit and verve.

I love the footwork of Djokovic

and the countless  aces of karlovic.

I love Agassi ‘s   returns

and McEnroe’s ’  half- volleys.

I love Borg’s strong forehand

and Lendl’s flat backhand.

I love this exciting game

It’s got tennis as a name.


The French Open inspired me this poem.My apologies for the ladies because I focused on men’s tennis.

do you love tennis ?

if yes, what’s your favorite player ?

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