I love food...

...too much. It's not much of a confession, but my voracious appetite does somehow feature in my life. This poem is about an incident that happened a few days ago. My parents must've seen a lot of bargains at the supermarket and bought over twice as much food than the fridge can handle.

Consider the bewildered look upon mother's face

as she stacks the pineapples, the passionfruits, the mangoes,

and father's raised eyebrow when deciding

which of the eight bags of salad

is best to eat!

Consider the fate of the strawberry and summer fruit yoghurt pots,

chilling in the shelves, slowly pushed to the back

of the fridge, like disobedient children,

told to go to the back of the room

by ice cream teachers.

Consider the fate of the custard pies

that beg to be eaten, winking

seductively at hungry faces

and red lips flushed

with hunger.

But most of all, consider the destiny of a boy,

whose will to eat is overwhelmed

by the sudden force

of providence.

I hate holding grudges...

...but I do. And I still haven't learned how to forgive. Someone please help?

In my mind, a fire still burns,

glows brightly when he is near,

its smoke tearing at my eyes,

tugging at my lungs,

its embers burning my feet,

and the past picks up the phone,

dials the present. I answer.

I love having to wake up early...

...even if it does mean feeling horrible throughout the rest of the day. The sunrises are worth it, even in dreary England.

The morning harbinger chirps,

Breaks the mould that latches to my eyes,

The eyelids battle with my dreams,

A Pyrrhic victory thought it seems,

But the victor wins the opportunity

to feel liberty at the hands of the sunrise, oh so...

majestic

sublime

wise

I still gaze and wonder at its eternal glory.

I still love her...

...and I don't know why. I don't know if it's a good thing. Maybe it is. I'll find out some day.

Butterfly wings flutter under moonlight

Breezes whisper soothing seductive tease

Clothed in a hold, encapsulated in a mould

Cast in the past in simplistic duplexity.

Swan glides, skates through the pool of sun

Melancholy lake and aspiring love to make

With warmth and fiery desire, she takes

In burning words, the emboldened cords of my heart.

My mind revolves around the past...

...too many times, especially when I don't have a lot to do. I know that I shouldn't dwell on the past, but sometimes, I can't help it.

A tear or two slips from its cage,

Evokes memories from the past,

Feeds the fire of contemplation for the present,

And numbers the pain of the impending future.

Love hurts.

I'm not supposed to drink coffee...

...because my mum wants all the coffee to herself! But sometimes when she's at work, I love to make my own cup of coffee to feel a bit more "grown up".

Pop! The kettle wheezes to a stop.

Willow tendrils grasp at my nose,

Beckons. My eyelids are ripped open

by its sight - I bring the black treasure

to my wavering lips, I sip. Hmmm.

Exams still worry me...

...no matter how good I am at a subject. But it isn't the exam that I'm ever truly worried about - it's the result that comes later that swarms my mind. Speaking of which, I have a maths exam in two days, hope you like the pun at the end of the poem.

A tidal rip wave surges towards me.

No escape. No time to prepare.

Wave upon wave of questions

hit my fragile shores. I wait

with my arms, hands, brain, sore

from tackling the wave.

I wait for the aftermath.