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Forever Isolated (poem 1 of 2)

Dark and cold, on winter nights,
I, an empty room behind the wooden door,
Yearning for light to smear golden glow
And blaze away my painful woe.
The sun has gone to bed for many decades,
And the azure sky has ever been blocked.
I, an empty room behind the wooden door,
Whisper my secrets to the mahogany floor.
Dark and cold outside my tiny universe,
No one cares to light a candle so I can see the world,
Daylight has been buried; darkness dances her Tango,

I, an empty room behind the wooden door, licking misery.


First Day of Class (poem 2 of 2)

The light scent of red chalk drifts into my nostrils
As the teacher scribbles words on the blackboard.
Minute powder particles, without destination,
Dangle without string like homeless souls
And mesmerize my neurons to their dreams.
I, a first grade school boy, in endless qualm.


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Tri Tran writes that the first poem “reflects my sadness,” and the second poem “reflects my yesteryears in first grade.”