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Wednesday, September 21, 2022

A Spirit Walk

Below is a sonnet I wrote for class. I'm definitely a noobie at this but it was really fun!

It's not perfect or edited yet haha but I really like it regardless. :)

A sonnet == 14 lines, with 10 syllables per line. 

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A Spirit Walk 

A purple moon climbs the mountain-lined sky

As cold pale feet stalk luminescent blades

Of a path raked through by all souls alike.

Once was bow and arrow aimed at wolf heart,

A quivering breath barked at to steady.

“All lives are yours to take, exert, and look!”

Once were books turned until soft skin met bone

A shadow waiting beyond candlelight.

Fire burns the wanderer from inside

Memories in flames, light alive tonight

What becomes of effort that is not yours?

Fear and freedom dance together in flames.

There, a path unparted, echoing sounds

Of spirits, all unknown, but one is yours. 


Below is an updated version of the poem. It has more clarity too ha. 11.12.22.

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A Spirit Walk 

A purple moon climbs the mountain-lined sky

As cold pale feet stalk luminescent blades

On a path raked through by all seeing souls.

War is not freedom but it makes him ache

To know when he will be the last soul it takes.

If there were eyes to close, then he would see

His own shaking breath struggling to steady.

Arrows fly and find unseen enemies.

Once were books turned until soft skin met bone

His father’s shadow beyond candlelight.

Fire burns the wanderer from inside.

There is no sleep here; what becomes of dreams

That one made to be loyal, brave, and true?

Do these dreams haunt you like spirits, warrior?

Wednesday, September 14, 2022

Snapping Turtle

Below is an erasure poem I made in class out of the Natural History of Western MA about Turtles. Super fun:)

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Snapping -- 

100 years

                        are vanishing 

                                                    Like snakes.

no teeth

                        home and         protection 

Box                                          leaving 

            no flesh visible.

absorbing 

                ponds or rivers,

the painted 

bodies 

Snap.

Monday, September 12, 2022

When Mom Fell in our Local Walmart

By DieuNgoc Nguyen

(a poem I had written for my intro to creative writing, an assignment due tonight ;))


When she fell, it was because the Walmart floor was too shiny, like concrete oil under sun, no grip for flip-flopped feet.

When she fell, her wrist landed first. The floor met bone with force to frustrate her joints for weeks. Angered her for more. Angered me for more. 

Series of questions fell into place as a resounding yelped-grunt echoed in the bikes section: How is she going to massage customers for the next few weeks? Or paint shellac nails, deftly cut ingrowns? What will be of the nail salon? 

Her hands hold livelihood. Magical and requested. Praised for strength and detail. A family she raised.

When she fell, her ankle caught under the bike that toppled over her, forcing onto her a limp.

No, not the gardening, not the walking too. 


After she fell, my little sister ran to her, pulling the bike off her petite body. 

After she fell, Mom limped slowly out of Walmart, holding onto Yen – not thinking to report. Take this home and not make a big deal of things. 

“A Black male customer saw me limping and guided me to a store manager.” 

Otherwise, she would have left things where they fell.


To recount her fall, the managers requested she write in English the “incident”. 

“We need your recount in writing to file a proper complaint. Walmart’s insurance company will review and call you shortly.” 


I imagine my little sister translating, stressed and praying for quick resolution, taking the crisp white sheet and penning in English what happened: how and when she fell. If only they both knew… they shouldn’t have done that. Every word legally used against you the moment you shared your story. 


If only they both knew the “after” as all parties involved tended, appreciated, apologized, and saw her out.


So if all was well, after she fell, why did she find herself calling me? 

“Ngoc, you’re studying to be a lawyer aren’t you? When I fell in Walmart, who’s fault is this?”

Why did I feel like  —

“Ngoc?”

“Absolutely not your fault. No matter what they’ll tell you or try to get you to say, say nothing until you find a lawyer. Tomorrow, you must see a doctor and get a statement there too. And please don’t doubt yourself.” 


After she fell, she believed Walmart would make well on their promise: the nice Walmart people will call her back.

There was no call to receive.

The only way to receive with the 374.72 billion dollar corporation was at court. 

But when a credible Vietnamese lawyer was found, an MRI sent for, and a positive take on the case almost had, the law firm turned down the case. 

Multiple calls were made, but no firm with Vietnamese-speaking lawyers, with strong backing, would take. 


  1. Perhaps her injury wasn’t severe enough to win big bucks.

  2. Perhaps Yen’s written statement had too many words that could be used against us. 


With every no, every ounce of fight she had, as she tended to injuries, 

disappeared.


Not one call given. Not one glance, not one dollar

from Walmart

for the weeks she hurt through

for the days she couldn’t make to work

for the emotional duress of handling family, job, health, and injury.


When people act like you’ve disappeared,

You disappear too.

The moment she fell in Walmart, all their lawyers had already won.

Mom had already disappeared. 


Case closed.