Biography of Cheryl Cheng
Hi all! My name is Cheryl Cheng (obviously) but my alias is Surely Choo Certain. My nickname, Choo, comes from how I pronounced my name when I was younger.
As you can probably tell, I am a poet! I love writing, and whenever an inspiration strikes me, I write it down. I hope you like them! !
I can see the CN Tower from my 'apartment', let's call it that. My friends are Leslie Ching, That Cool Guy, and Silverlight Chen. Check out their poems and help them achieve their dreams of becoming up and coming poets!
P.S. Please rate and comment on my poems! ! !
Note: Life is Meaningless, POETRY, Regret, and Typing Away are poems that I wrote on MSN to help my friend when she needed 24 more poems for her weekly poetry assignment in 2009.
Cheryl Cheng's Works:
Shadows in the Attic
Cheryl Cheng Poems
If you want to see joy, You must tell every girl and boy That life is a wonder and dream...
Dreams have no borders and no particular orders Dreams are imagination
With one single push, With one couple's love, A baby is born.
C oloured with beautiful views A ngel of the north N est and home for many heros A ble to surpas all obstacles
Inside Your Mind
Enter your mind. What will you find? A hallway of mazes. All kinds of fazes.
I'm five years old, I have a crush. I pick a flower and give it to him. 'You're a killer, ' he says coldly. I look down at the flower,
Last week, my teacher yelled. He scolded us for talking loud. 'You're smart, you're talented, ' He shouted,
I am the ambidextrous philosopher I wonder how the world goes round I hear the chatter of life passing by I see my friends and family side by side
The ladder goes 'clang clang' As I step down flights My feet go 'plish splash'
There once was a little boy. Who was a stuck-up snoot. A child would cry over a toy, And he wouldn't give a hoot.
Life Is Meaningless
Life is meaningless. Yet I’m here on the computer, Chatting with my friends. The pressure is too great-
Abandoned toys in the treasure chest, Left alone to collect the dust After the children grew up. Dolls, teddy bears, all of them forgotten.
My friends are having fun I'm here, not done All because I was distracted
P ressure on you as time passes O verall, you have less than half E verything seems so long T his is a weekly thing
I am blind; I cannot see.
I touch my face. I wonder...
How do I look like?
I move from my neck to my jawbone.
It's high and angled; I must look elegant.
My lips are full, and ears are right.
I stroke my cheeks: no bumps, no blemishes.
Finally, it satisfies me.
My love comes, confirms and says: