Embedded Files
I. Poetry:
· · · · Fragrance For Me · · · ·
Opening notes
Open a conversation
Along comes a wave of exhilaration
Or false anticipation
Of what we ought to be together
Heart notes
Hear what’s beyond the small talks
In between us lies similarities
Incompatibilities
And all that structure our intertwined scent
Base notes
Bind my days to you
Close by the cuffs I seek your comfort
Your company, firm like a fort, fortunately I
Yielded my wall and let you in
At the end of the time I do sense
That you are not here to please
But here to stay
II. Persona Poetry:
The Alarm
Before daybreak, I repent myself
of my duty, my uses
Just to do it again
This is it
Time to go off:
I repeat, replay, rerun
though not so much enjoying
the ringtone of your choice
So it is
You turn me off:
I return, restart, resume
for the eighth time of the morning
as if I have a choice
to watch
you roll over,
accusing me of depriving you
of the rest you gave
up last night
Up till five
I watched you hold onto
unrequited love
unamusing fun
unimportant job
Just undeniably vain
If only I could
wake you up from
self-destruction instead
You finally sit up
with bloodshot eyes and a bleeding core
I repent myself
of my duty, my uses,
and all your excuses
III. Short Story: Dodo
III. Short Story: Dodo
Here is a thing that nobody knows: Mom keeps the first half of her life in my room, precisely the cabinets beside my desk. They are piles and piles of photo albums with yellowed covers and dusted pages. I have met the elementary school student version of her, standing on a wooden box with her tippy toes as she gave a speech on the podium. I have met the middle school student version of her, wearing a pair of heavy glasses and holding a certificate of merit. I have followed her around Europe the time she decided to go wild with her closest friends in college. I have seen her become a mother, struggling as she tried to hold my brother still. I have seen her by the lake, under the willow tree, beside her laid a black mixed-breed dog, Mom’s beloved. I have seen it all, but I was not there.
A man was there, though, all the way from her high school days to motherhood. He was there like Mom’s shadow. However, everything and everyone are in stop motion, lacking realness. Mom’s past is like a story, and the shadow man is an unlocked character. Perhaps in a far, far away kingdom, she used to be a princess with a knight.
And now she’s just Mom.
. . .
One night, I drifted off with flooded eyes in the middle of the seventh flip-through of my favorite album...
IV. Lyrics Writing:
IV. Lyrics Writing:
Tree Hole
Tree Hole
(verse)
I have thought about
Getting on a bus I do not recon
Just to see where it takes me well
Anywhere but the bubble you live in
Bet you never thought about
Why trees they have such big warm holes
Cause why would you bother to hide
When you are the bomb-thrower
(pre-chorus)
Might as well join you
If I can’t beat you
They say
But I’d rather choke on my fear
Than to lose myself
− to all the bullied: you are the strongest of them all.
ENG260 Final Project_Judy WU_Tree Hole_Music Video.MOV(chorus)
I looked back
I wondered
How I got myself wrecked
The devils were summoning
It aches not to give in
A thousand times, I’ve asked
How do people keep
A heart of gold intact
(final chorus)
Walk away
Walk ahead
Don’t look back, it’ll be fine
Unapologetic, out of that tree hole
From now on
No more wasted tears
You should know
I will never ever
Give up on me
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