Student Poetry Reading

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Boromrajakumaree Building room 314, noon-1 p.m.


Email in comments so your friends can have feedback on their poems.


1.   “Are Roses Red,” Alisa Lertpratchya

2.   “My Loved One” and “Bad Time for Best Time,” Narasak Sirikanjanawong

3.   “The Journey Under the Scorching Sun” and "Married to Misery," Isariya Jutimasakulboworn

4.   “Monster” and “I sit alone in a room,” Aphaporn Julkananukij

5.   “Murder in a Bus,” Sommanassa Ngernsaard

6.   “Heat,” Aunchidtha Suwanyingyong

7.   “Laugh for Cry,” Suebskul Longwetch

8.   “Undecided,” Suwida Boonyatistarn

9.   “Do You Believe in Destiny” and “My heart is small,” Sirikul Sawatdeenarunart

10.  “I look at the dark sky,” Esther Suksamitti

11.  “My View,” Pimwalan Sripech

12.   “Impermanency,” Jirawut Kitkarul

13.  “Waking to Death,” Amarat Chaipaiboonwong

14.  On the Quest for Happiness,” Atipong Amornwongpeeti

15.  “Why Is the World so Rushing?,” Suluck Lamubol  


Are Roses Red


Are Roses Red,

And Violets Blue?

If Sugar’s sweet,

Then why aren’t You?


My Heart I gave

Yet You let down.

So long I’ve wait

Till Red turned Brown.


Blue Heart that broke

Up close You bring,

Tend it with Love,

Till Blue turns Pink.


Roses aren’t Red,

Violets aren’t Blue,

Sugar’s not sweet

As much as You.


                        Alisa  Lertpratchya



Bad Time for Best Time[1]


Waking up in the dawn tortures me

Walking into a bitter cold shower

Willing not to go, but forced by she

Wishing not to be there, but what I can do better

While on the way, sleepy

Would she stop bothering me?

With this job thing so creepy

Whining, please stop, yelled she

Wanting not to get here, but finally I do

Waving at me, a neat lady looking sincere

Why here? Taken everyday too

When will I get out, I fear

But my job, my best, said she

For my bright tomorrow, as well, I agree


                        Narasak Sirikanjanawong



My Loved One


To where I will go from here

In such lonesome and bitter cold night

Corpse, blood soaked, ravens fulfill the atmosphere

How horror faces, mouth open wide, in every sight

Walking with barefeet through them

Tasting their solid odor

Holding my old rag doll, tears overwhelmed

No signs of whom I look for

Above me a saturated red red sky

Under barefeet slimy skins of warriors, dwellers

This war, may I ask why?

How my empty life, should I treat her better

There my love one stays silently beside a dreadful tree

My love one who will never come back to me


                        Narasak Sirikanjanawong





The Journey Under the Scorching Sun


Scorching sun in mid-summertime

Burning trees beside the walking-line

Melting surface of the road

Drying waters in the moat


"Hihihi Hahaha Huhuhu..."

"Hihihi Hahaha Huhuhu..."


Everywhere, I can hear the laughter

Hotness might make people be crazier


laugh, laugh and laugh


They're laughing with no reason

This is caused by the scorching sun.


                        Isariya Jutimasakulboworn



Married to Misery


Marriage with fun and joy

Fire-red roses were coiled

On the head of the bride

who will have a later coil,

dealing her life with small noisy boys


                        Isariya Jutimasakulboworn





I sit on the ground

watch the monster in front of me

watch it dance joyfully

watch its red body cover my home

hear its sound laughing at me

swallow cry of the baby

whose mother left by the monster

watch it go without goodbye

nothing remains but the heap of ash.


                        Aphaporn Julkananukij




I sit alone in the room
No one is by my side
It is dark and quiet
But I can't escape
from noise in silence

                        Aphaporn Julkananukij



Murder in a Bus


Underneath my well-done body

the furnace was nonstop deflagrating.

My cooked stomach got me

enjoying a tidal wave of nausea.

The asphalt down there seemed

to soak everywhere like lava.

I realized I could not have got in

because of scintillating, steaming sweat

secreted from people’s boiled skin

that left the sour scent

every square inch of this stuffed bus.

And then I was hit by such a stench

I would never be familiar with.

And that was how I was cold-bloodedly killed

by the very slushy armpit.


                        Sommanassa Ngernsaard



Types of Dew


The cristal dew climbs down the tree

walking on the street of moss,

greeting godlike children with glee.


Cradle flowers whose color’s of the dove

sleeping on their mother shoulders-

outstretched branches with good slope. 


“Where are you going?”, one little flower asks

 “Going to feed you,

Down to the roots I will start my task”


But the conversation’s now interrupted,

as a machine starts gnawing

And all flowers start cherish.


“Go, go, do it. There is no time left to just maunder

Thank God. Thank boss.

My mother will be so many, many furniture. ”


“And I will be in the vase

Watching her from above

My mama table will do her best.”


But now I am wondering.

Who is the boss? Who is the God?

But never be high-minded human being.


Earthy-skinned being’s first mistaken to be

a cunning coyote but not only carnivorous,

herbivorous also could be.


Finally I realize this living death is of no type.

He might be cursed or corrupted

by many dews of Diablo pumping of his skin’s pipes.


                        Sommanassa Ngernsaard



Burn me up in the boiling lava

Burn me up in the eternal flame

Burn me up with your last long passion

And pay no attention to any shame


                        Aunchidtha Suwanyingyong



Laugh for Cry


Ha Ha Ha My Mother Cries

Being afraid that I'm going to die

He He He How Can I Be Gone

Never Never cause I was just born


                        Suebskul Longwetch





What should I do? What you suggest?

Step or stop, which choice would be the best?

The hidden voice tells me that I should go.

But deeper voice inside of me says “No.”


                        Suwida Boonyatistarn



Do you Believe in Destiny


Do you believe in destiny?

I have to admit that I didn't.

Everything seemed to be just the way it was,

just how it should be.

I didn't care, didn't notice anything,

didn't even appreciate.

Life had been just a life,

and nothing more. 


Then we met. 


Life is no longer just a life.

Life is something wonderful.

I care, I notice,

and I do appreciate things in my life.

Everything seems to be more than it actually is;

more beautiful, more meaningful.

I do believe it now.

Do you believe in destiny?


                        Sirikul Sawatdeenarunart



My heart is small when you were in it,

But how big and empty it is now that you are gone.


                        Sirikul Sawatdeenarunart



I look at the dark sky one night.

All I can see is the shining lights

From the stars above my head.

Then I lay down on my bed.


                        Esther Suksamitti



My View


In the castle of hate, I stay

And watch people passing through my way.

Hoping they just leave me alone,

I do not want my name be known

By those disgusting, awful people

I won’t receive even their apple

Weird! I clearly see them at night

But then I’m blind in the daylight.


                        Pimwalan Sripech





A butterfly flies

In the blue sky.

A butterfly dies

In the blue sky.


Human being’s

Alive to die.


Nothing lasts.


                        Jirawut Kitkarul







                        I can’t sing

                        When you’re gone.


                        Hip, hip, hooray!

                        Let’s dance, my friend.

                        My muscles are tense and ready.

                        We can make noises together.


                        Oh, you have to go?

                        Right, good luck.

                        Dance with me next time.

                        I want to shake my skirt.




I stay



                        Jirawut Kitkarul



Waking to Death


Waking when the sun rises is lifeless

I would rather sleep and be alive

Than wake up and know I will never thrive

For three comes a new day in the darkness.


If I wake, I shall wake for my strife

So how can the sun not become somber?

If I wake, my love shall have another

So how can the sun overcome my life?


I’m not a dreamer; I just hate to wake.


                        Amarat Chaipaiboonwong



I AM much HURT when YOU be TRAY

My HEART THUMPS // and TREM bles with PAIN

I HEAR the CRASH when YOU slay

My TRUST // NE-ver to FEEL a- GAIN[2]


                        Amarat Chaipaiboonwong





Rushing through the forest,

under my feet were dead, dry leaves,

coloring the ground with bright yellow and brown,

crackling as I walked upon them.

On the orange carpet, I paced faster.

Then, suddenly, I was stopped

by a huge cloud of orange leaves,

flipping their wings,

rising like a phoenix up into the sky,

revealing the cloud I never observed.


                        Atipong Amornwongpeeti



On the Quest for Happiness


I found a lamp beneath the sand;

it looked a little dusty.

Therefore, I cleaned it with my hands,

and then it shook so wildly.


Boom! Bang! The smoke was belching out

along the Genie swished.

He said to me “Please do pronounce.

I shall give you three wishes.”


Half-scared, I stared at him and said,

 “The richest, I want to be!”

Kaboom! the crown popped on my head.

All gold in front of me.


With all the gold, I knew for sure

my life would be so fancy-

have all I want, be no more poor-

But will I be happy?


With doubt, I hurriedly declared,

 “I want to be omniscient!”

Kaboom! And I became aware

of things and all conditions


For knowing all, I made my last wish.


Things went black, forever.


                                                Atipong Amornwongpeeti



Why Is the World so Rushing?



quickly the sound I seasoned

moving sway so much

crushing things with a nudge

brushing dust to the air.



This world I live so much

has become a sound of flush

joyfulness coming the piece of hut

mudding around with trees.


O, which guts then should I trust,

going with streams of dust or a dusk full of pine trees?


            Suluck Lamubol

[1] This is my poem about my journey from my home to school. It is my feeling when I was young, I didn’t want to go to school but my mom forced me to go.

[2] This poem suggests the heat which rises from anger and finally changes into coldness.




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Last updated September 20, 2007