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Best Poems Written by Jasmine Tsai

Below are the all-time best Jasmine Tsai poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

I had a dream last night. When I looked into the mirror, I was wearing a denim mid-skirt with boots, and a dramatic yellow top with feathers—things I would never wear, least of all on a steaming summer day. I looked around and found myself on the dock, where my grandparents live in Keelung, Taiwan. My father’s ship departed from here when he was a marine; My mother would stand on the squeaky wooden platform as he left. The wind was damp and chilling—it’s always raining here, at my grandparents’. I used to hate it as a child, but I had a distinct memory from when I was an infant: when I cry, my father would take me to the bathroom and open the rain shower—the sound of rain would quiet me down, then my memory would black out. I guess I fell asleep...

A high-pitch note
———cut—through
my memory like shears.

I’m back on the dock, in denim skirt and boots and that funny yellow top. Then I saw her, a siren. I thought of her yesterday, when she surfaced in my poem. I've seen her before, once, in what I thought was hallucination. Her hair in a quaint braid, draped over one shoulder. Her skin aquamarine, so delicate I think I saw the veins underneath—but no blood was flowing. And her eyes—oh, her eyes—they were a milk-like off-white. A color somehow both calming and chilling. She hummed from somewhere deep in the sea. So far out I couldn’t have seen or heard, let alone fear her—Yet I did. Her voice coiled around my throat like a silent collar, ready to claim what once was mine—Suddenly she's in front of me. I tried to fight back, but what can one do when her vocal cords were ripped out brutally? So thin, those fragile cords. And yet, they alone stood between me and my voice. I wanted to grab them and stuff them back into my throat, but—she smiled like an innocent carol, then devoured them in front of me. My arms dropped. I nearly collapsed, but her touch froze me up right. Her lifeless touch sealed my bleeding wound, then my throat, then my mouth then nostrils then the rest of my limped body. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe—

Then I woke up,
cold sweat soaked my hair.
I still couldn’t breathe.
I reached for my throat—
she actually took my voice.

-------
Note: a sequel to my another poem 'aquamarine'

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

unintended innuendo

Season of violet grief
A day of navy oaths
The weather a dim pink hush— 
ghosts of past, my muse.

I accidentally wrote a letter
scrawled on pale paper—
Guess, my June, what spills forth
when your blade slips through—
—not me, the envelope.

Perhaps a carol, yes—
or an oration (how proud I was!)—
or—
no, not that—
—perhaps just a thin red thread,
words sealed in failing breath.
Ruins of 
all I dared offer.

Don’t blame me, love—
and oh, don’t fear me,
for all is said
as the letter burns—
in its pyre of regret.

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

--procession--

we dressed them in thinned clouds—
               no lace,
                      no hymns,
                                                      just wind.

innocence was light enough
   to carry
        in a breath.
   "careful, don't wake her."

        naïve had shoes tied wrong,
               "she liked it that way."
                the earth didn't mind.

hope—
          never still,
                 tossed petals as she went,
                        still believing it was a game.
"her new home will always rain daisies."

no pallbearers.
just memory
                   folding paper cranes
                        in the corners of our silence.

by the road side,
stood
Hate.
     in tailored quiet,
         lipstick a stinging red.
she dropped
      one
           white
                carnation
on the soil—
                not mourning,
                just marking her work.

she didn't stay.
just smiled,
      as if to say:
             "what did you expect?"
and walked off.
thin heels clicking—
               her goodbyes.
                            don't wait.
                                for answers.

we buried the tiny coffins
                   beneath a tree
                       that once grew letters to santa.
we said nothing.
   the wind said enough.

they said it wasn't murder.
only
                           "what happens
                                             when you learn."

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

I made a promise to write sins

Sometimes I wonder,
if I’m wasting my seconds
trying to prove love
lasts longer 
when you drown it with gin.

Her ghost circles back—
again, again—
the Poppy wears 
a saccharine, serrated grin—
(oh, how I’ve missed it)
nestled among 
my worn-out keycaps.

I didn’t mean to write her—
I keep pressing delete—

But she never blinks.
That's when I know–
I must
write and write and write and write—
or she erases me.

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

the things we see-II

River’s Diary


March, 2025

She walked past me today.
Her gaze hollow, her pace a ghost.
I can see crimson threads
weaving down her arms—
not gloves, no.

I think she’s going to the Cliff.
I wonder if she’ll return.

Most never did.


April, 2025

She sat at the bank all day
and stared at my ripples—
It is what I’m proud of the most.

I tried to sing for her,
shame that she can’t hear.
So I cried with her instead, 
until her tears dried—

Wish I could stop my streams,
but I’m a sentimental River.


May, 2025

I heard the Cliff complaining—
sea wind scratched his face.

She ran past, breathless—
Chased by what I can’t drown.

Hope she made it home tonight.


June, 2025

Nobody saw her.

A daisy bloomed beside me today.
I’ll keep it fresh for her.


July, 2025



August, 2025

She passed by again.
In that flowy silk dress,
and her eyes shimmer.

She was humming, 
with a voice low but heavenly—

Oh, and she found my daisy!

I’ve seen that light before—
She’s going to the Cliff.

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

Lies I never told, but never clarified

They with masks and scalpels
rewatch 
the seconds I was given without consent.
My breath      hitches
as warnings stillborn in my throat.

At this moment,
I am but
a body
opened 
for overdue answers no one asked for.

A poet’s gift lies in the voice of Truth.
No—
A poet's gift is to lie, 
constantly,
in lavender-gray syllables
threaded through with near-Truth—
The answer to unvoiced questions,
clipped out with tweezers,
a scorched coil—
my vocal cord.

I, a third-party haze—
rewatch
the moments I lived through like 
faint      breaths 
fogging an oxygen mask.

My lies will be forgiven,
when they split open my sternum,
and find Truth still beating—

They’ll know,
late Truth cuts deeper than scalpel.

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

the 22nd century wishing well

>>  true love, please.
[ERROR]unable to retrieve file 'true'
>>  fine, then just love.
[ERROR]file 'love' can’t exist without 'true'
>>  …just happiness, then.
[ERROR]requires connection to server 'live'

Details | Jasmine Tsai Poem

Red

pulse()— //triggers beneath skin: jagged
>> syntax.error: heart overflowed: line 21
{ lips == burn; silence != a glitch in breath; }
>>>> crash report, rebooting…
#cc0000 //devours what logic left behind


__________________________

Written on April 26th, 2025
For contest 'Color My Mood'
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
__________________________

Best Poems Written by Jasmine Tsai

breathless, my journey ends

Ember Days-A poet’s diary

claimed voice

unintended innuendo

--procession--

I made a promise to write sins

the things we see-II

Lies I never told, but never clarified

the 22nd century wishing well

Red