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Best Ngoc Nguyen Poems

Below are the all-time best Ngoc Nguyen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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'Poet's Delight'

Math, physics, English, and so on--
     alas, are tiresome!
All the professors here go on 
     with a prime axiom. 

A stuffy, college campus where 
     knowledge and books abound,
freshmen and co-eds are clueless
     and confused all around.

Mid-terms and finals I do dread
     as each semester ends;
the pressure's on me to study
     as the semester wends.

School's oppressive this semester,
     I'll see my old provost
and leave 'ere I rot and fester
     and take up a new post.

William & Mary's M.B.A.'s
     are just worthless BS;
degrees from the home of “The Tribe”
     are crap that obsolesce.

I'll do rimes as “Poet's Delight”
     as poems are my forté,--
not tomes or stuffy scholastics!
     Ballads are my métier.

1.) poembender; 2.) Philosophical motif; 3.) for "Impress me III ! (Old / New)" Contest

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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''A flower breaks out afresh--''

A flower breaks out afresh from its swollen, 
green bud and then stretches outward into 
the sun-drenched sky.

A thing of nature that's timeless
and perennial, it faithfully blooms and
adorns its surroundings like its predecessors.

Never alone, it is joined by its floral neighbors
of its own kind in fragrant numbers, suffusing 
the atmosphere all around with a heavy, yet 
sweet stench of lavender and honeysuckle.

The thick odor seduces and encourages the
flower-borne bees, hornets, and yellow-
jackets nearby into a steady rhythm and pulse 
of continuous labor over the pollen-rich 
blossoms and perfumed, colorfully-tinted 
petals. From an adjacent pond the over-
abundant and unsubtle beauty of the 
lily-of-the-valleys add their distinctiveness 
to the already rich and lush floral landscape, 
now teeming with the life and vigor of 
spring in full bloom.


Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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'Little Sparrow'

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”—Psalm 34:18 New International Version (NIV)

Little sparrow, what troubles thee;
      is it the stigma you face?
Little sparrow, what pierces thee;
      is it the shame of disgrace?

Is it the brokenness in your heart, 
     or the sorrows you can't outlive?
Is it the anguish that sets you apart, 
     or the hurt that holds you captive? 

What befalls you 
      is neither unfelt nor unknown;
God cares and calls you
      when you're cast out and all alone. 

God will never forsake you
     in your time of need;
God will never permit you
     to suffer or bleed.

02/19/2014; for "TO HEAL A HEART" Contest


Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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'the sea'

(beautiful!) immense and Poseidon-like,--the sea washes o'er my soul.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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'Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death'

Like Frankenstein, I, too, am loathed to death;
I walk this earth devoid of friend and hearth,--
devoid of joy from the time of my birth
and from the first draw of my infant's breath.
An outcast and a pariah among
the friended, I exist without the mirth
and glee of those born of happier worth,
esteem and prize,--O would that I belong!
Still, I am loved of my dear family
and most loved friends, my books, and by my God
and e'en by my most oft-read poetry.
These things I cherish, honor, and must laud
with gratitude and thanks religiously
and be content as worms in a blesséd sod.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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From the Amorous Shepherd to the Flock: a Parody of ''She walks in beauty''

THEY graze in beauty on the land
     of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of dark and tanned
     meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
     which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.

One fleece the more, one spot the less,
     had half-repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
     or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
     how pure, how dear their grazing-place.

And on that rump and o'er that round
     so fat, so plump, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
     but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
     a drove whose milk is innocent.

01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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'Being bipolar is like a rose'

Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its color is more vibrant
than all the other roses'!

It may never be
part of a "perfect" bouquet,--
but its rich pigment
can be a precious paint for
Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa."

Alas, it may not
attract the most "honeybees"
in the wilds of life,--
but its petals can be crushed
to make the finest perfumes.

Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its bouquet is more fragrant
than all the other roses'!

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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'--the sweat of lovers'

Fragrant, erotic, red and swollen, the rose smells like the sweat of lovers.
1.) poembender; 2.) Nature motif; 3.) for "Impress me with a small poem! (New / Old)" Contest

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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A seed of love planted in the soil of my heart

I sailed unaware into 
the ocean currents 
of her life:

smitten, I 
desired to ride 

them with her;
the ocean ways, a 

seed of love 

planted in the soil of
my heart had taken root 
and grew--only to perish 

a young hope 

that's fleeting:
though I loved her, 

still wounded

like a careless 

In spite of 
this and myself, 
I looked 

for encouragement
in her stare; 

at the outlines 
of her graceful 

I did wonder: 
she was 


a Helen of Troy, a prize, 
on whose loveliness 

so richly gorged! 

But never was 
a lonely man 
more wretched 

I was, 

as she could 
not return my

with equal measure of feeling.  

I would be more
glad had she been 
unwedded to another,

could easily be within 
my desirous 


In time, I 

her again;

and love, or the 
appearance of it--like 
an aborted 


flushed down the 

with her parting 
as well!

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen

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A Harvest of Sins

Weary and sluggish with apathy and 
disinterest, I nervously reflect and 

My thoughts--thick and heavy like 
molasses--churn and swirl in and out of my 
head and spill against the background of 
dead silence of my apartment living room.

They are in constant motion, while I sit in 
the living room mute and gagged and bound
with the world-weariness of a lifetime and 
stare blankly into empty space by looking 

Even the furnishings around me defer to 
my sullen mood. Not saying a word and 
bowing their heads, they hold their tongues 
and keep their thoughts to themselves out 
of respect and deference for my silent and 
solemn doldrums. 

The TV, 
otherwise always on and hyper-gregarious, 
for once regards my sullenness and apathy 
with its own.

I sit thus—
but in the sympathetic company of my 
furniture and belongings. 

They whisper to me of a time when I was 
sinful and wanton and remind me of the 
need for redemption.

I remember, and take heed by repenting.

By doing so, I have avoided reaping and 

a harvest of sins.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen