- A fruitful season
- An afternoon at the end of the week
- Green tea
- Lent
- Sisters and the village
- Spring reverie
- The evening rain
- Thunderstorm
- An afternoon at the end of 2020
- A conversation with age
- Dalat station
- Dusk
- Err is the season
- How could a leaf possibly be so
- March’s full moon
- Rain
- Sunday, May 2021
- The cold wind
- an ode upholding the right to be an imbecile
- beauty
- death is inevitable
- drinking alone
- I feel momentarily at peace
- in memory of Ly Hao Nam
- sleepless nights or much ado about nothing
- sunset
- the old textbooks
- Who?
- An anthem by Răng Cưa Mountain
- December waltz
- Silent farewell
- spring day
- The wind twisted in agony above them.
- There are the days when we are simply lost
- where it’s windy on a winter’s day
- 30 tháng tư
- A Sign
- a tug-a-war between my right and left brain
- Amy Winehouse
- an empty chasm
- August verses
- autumn canvas
- buds of autumn
- by the night you must compromise
- chaconne
- Christmas shall soon pass by
- drawing me
- Faking an afternoon nap
- go. return to
- I see people not by the colour of their skin
- in another life
- Kiss
- Lê Thánh Thư
- leaning into darkness
- Loneliness
- (M)aria
- me, recollecting the Sun
- morning notes sáng
- Night
- nirvana
- Noon came rain
- professed
- recycled
- Saigon 1985
- share
- shut
- soundly the night sleeps
- the day
- the human mind
- the last bloody scar
- the morning after the day before
- the smallest thought in the wind
- the late train took me down South
- This morning
- this morning I heard the bird singing
- Thơ at I-95
- today I will take you
- when I’m barely awake
- 5 lines on an anthem of Ukraine
- a command to w(h)ine
- a field bleached white in spring
- a lover somewhere
- a shattering month. reading Cao Xuân Huy
- addicted
- an independent creative thought
- an unfinished verse, a social distancing christmas
- April afternoon
- arms wide opened hand in hand
- as ancient. as poetry
- butchers
- cheer leading
- cosmos
- denial
- don’t say
- finger reading
- holding back
- I am very much me
- I’m living in the middle of the forest of my memories
- leaning stars
- liquid amber
- listening to the heart
- morning glory reflected in the mirror
- nowadays
- scent of colours
- the chill
- the face of reality
- the fragility of a breath
- the journal
- the old man Nguyen likes to kick the ball around
- the perceived politic
- The Refrain of Ukraine
- the resounding images of spring in poetry
- the stutter of new love
- threads of sunlight
- ungrateful cruelty, dusk
- unnamed
- we have carried each other
- 30/4 is nothing but a thoughtless curiosity
- Are you crazy!
- a bit windy a bit late
- a poet just passed away
- Buried memories
- clumsy metaphors
- descending into the colours of soil and dust
- fatuously roaming
- flesh and bone barely enough to lay the foundation of ideals
- following the herd of deer
- I’m naked, like a tree stripped of its bark
- I’ve never applied for residency
- in a knot
- in the perished poems
- Now
- One late April night, I’m choking on all sorts of incomprehension
- powerless
- stepping into the streets, I was undecided on what to wear so I pieced together some letters
- that rambling appetite
- the afternoon, on the other side of Vũng Tàu
- The April Rain
- the last page of the calendar
- The portrait
- there’s one stubborn poem that refuses to ever sleep
- what the heck
- Yes, we were bound beyond borders
- 4.0
- 369
- 5 countable verses
- 6 bài thơ
- 7 verses – you stole my thoughts
- 8 Prayerful Odes
- 10 verses – poetry is a mother’s silence
- a few words
- A FIELD OF INHUMANITY
- a geese feather tainted with your blood
- a land where even the weed flowered
- a map in the old house
- a poem or just a rope
- a poem written for a poet devoted to freedom
- a poet died in the trees
- a poet that has never smiled
- a poet’s reward
- a red apple
- A very small death – Emptiness – Abyss – I’ve dropped on the spot – Scrap paper – Brutality – My existence
- ABODE 1: FIRE – The octopus from the deep shall
- ABODE 2: WATER – What or where is the womb, can you show me?
- ABODE 3: LIGHT
- ABODE 4: LAND AND COUNTRY – how could they even think of dividing the womb
- ABODE 5: Where resides the graves of young sober men
- ABODE 6: WIND, DUST &MARRIAGE
- ABODE 7:
- afraid of the virus
- all poems were in sky blue
- all the women from my past keep calling me
- amongst the dreams
- an amateur
- AN EPIC ODE OF MY HOMELAND A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
- AN EPIC ODE OF SAIGON IN LOCKDOWN
- AN EPIC ODE OF UKRAINE
- AN EPIC POEM SHATTERED INTO WARM RAIN
- an interment in white
- An old lullaby
- and pain is the colour of clarity
- and the colours
- and the wind pushes it around
- and you will be my light…
- April
- April is in fast passing showers
- as a poet
- bài thơ: “chiều xuống trên bụng nhà thơ”*
- Big mean huge
- blood and flowers
- blood is no sweat
- Born in the year of the horse
- Bumping into an old friend from med school in the streets…
- CHRONICLES OF A DEAD PERSON LIVING STILL WITH THE TRUTH
- CHRONICLES OF A RIVER
- chừng nào nhớ hết nước mắt?
- cigarette smoke
- Corona, the year 2030
- Dad, where do poetry come from
- damp and wet like the brain, the concept of words germinating
- Damp memories
- Dear lord, sobering is December!
- December
- deception is not love
- defensive
- deliriously obsessed were the yellow flowers
- dissolving joy
- Do you need 5 people to love you or 5000 followers?
- does it help us to avoid the need to look at the virus?
- During Isolation
- Each time the afternoon pulls light into night
- Envy
- even your mother didn’t get a chance to breastfeed you
- everything was wrapped in a glorious chill
- eyes, a star & you
- falls apart and die
- finally you touched on the absent of us, the gone years
- Flying high
- four poems
- fractured glass and rotten memories
- Freemann Equations
- from insecurities, we shall radiate glorious light
- garbage
- Gone is Valentine
- Grass, rarely writes poetry of substance…
- H’MONG
- heart
- her hair dripping
- her next door neighbour
- her portraits
- her sunset
- how could that one person be the entirety of the sunset
- How could you be so oblivious to their strength?
- How can a poet escape the spell?
- how do you read the poem, when the poet’s bones are broken…
- How do you snuff out a candle?
- How does one chew to pieces the bones of a man?
- how funny
- how may she love without anxiety
- How O thou art or any being love
- How should one savour a woman?
- Humanised
- hypnotizing patriotism
- Hypocrites make a show of benevolence
- I am dead
- I am not like you
- I am steeped in colour
- I don’t know what I did, can you explain it to me
- I have thrown out all the words in my grasp
- I reinvented myself
- I should have enough decency to stop loving her…
- I spoke their language
- I want to turn us into a poem…
- I was four, when I began to chase my dreams
- I was not born a poet
- I’m curled up like a ball as the poem begins to fall into bits
- I’m writing to you from an empty chair that has been filled
- I’ve been through the wilderness of nights
- if it weren’t for your heart
- If one can not write, Poetry can be nothing but a dream
- If only…
- if the electrical pole
- if you could go back in time
- if you could read my thoughts
- if you love
- If you see the poem as feathers of a bird
- if you were a poem
- imposter
- in a house full of cobweb
- in kisses, she’s proficient
- In today’s time, should poetry be “hard” to read or “hard” to post?
- is Poetry male or female
- it turns out you’re a rat
- it’s all in your head
- it’s late, or is there still a chance someone might turn u
- it’s simple, it’s the one by our side
- it’s twisted, hence, it might be the reason why you couldn’t see
- Justice
- kneeling
- Knock on the Door
- Learning how to love
- like how now and then the stocks hits rock bottom
- like the waves in your room, one moonlit night. in waves, rising
- loneliness
- lonely are the butterflies
- long ago in the mountain
- love
- love is no deception
- May I kiss you
- me wishing for more rain
- mười hai bài
- my country is an old book
- never fall in love with a poet
- Night
- NIGHT & THE CONTINUING FALLING VERSES OF…
- they’re tall because we’re on our knees (1)
- a bird in folklore (2)
- a poem disappeared into a hole (3)
- there’s no possible point of view which could surpass the summer (4)
- gosh the green grass, aching at the foot of the horizon (5)
- death isn’t rows of furrows in the field (6)
- not a warden (7)
- days like these, poetry is a scar at the heart of the people (8)
- you will touch the love of this nation (9)
- April (10)
- without the vernacular, the poem has to wave its arms around dancing (11)
- don’t write sad poetry, and yearn for its light (12)
- even the moonlight was something in her imagination (14)
- her heart is so small, it’s a black hole forever sound within my soul (15)
- night is the outside falling (16)
- that’s where the mountain viewed the sea (17)
- listen to poetry as you would listen to the rain (18)
- a pantheon of meaning (20)
- no one has fingers small or light enough to cause so much pain
- no one has the rights to absolution
- No reform, just a poem for Vũ
- Not a grave
- not because you’re missing in action
- Not just about the Paracel – Spratly islands
- not poison
- Not Us…
- November yellows flying
- now and then the poet must ponder the state of the nation
- NYE
- often by the sea
- oh heavenly Father
- Oh Sleep
- one lonely hand
- Once a day, the butterflies wander and play.
- once you’re ready to shine
- only the sunrise was a diluted orange
- or has the wind turned you into tears
- our sensitive nature, might, pride
- out by the river
- Out, from isolation
- “out of nothing is nothingness…”
- over the weight of an ellipsis
- pain is a metamorphosis
- past seeing to fear
- perhaps
- photograph
- Poetry
- poetry did, in a hotel slept with a man
- poetry is like the idea of nothing, a waste of time
- Poetry. it’s the accompanying shadow
- Poetry waiting for award
- Poetry is a rose
- poverty is black
- practising line breaks(create the enjambment):
- proclaim me naught as mother
- pulled out
- rage against the dying of the light
- rain
- rain, the ceaseless rainy days
- raindrop
- reading Vietnamese poetry
- red roses, steeped in blood
- reformed
- remorse
- requiem
- resolutions without a limit
- Return when, the un-besieged written verses?
- scent
- she is a happy ending
- she took her shoes off
- She untied each and every ridiculous knot in Poetry
- sitting corpses
- Slander
- sleep tear(s)
- Slowly, Poetry is dying
- so far it’s impossible to know
- soldiers sleeping
- “someone walked past the door possibly”*
- sowing the deletion of the past
- still a dollar in my pocket
- still causing twists and turns in each night’s dream
- tám bài thơ
- Tears are as old as the trees
- ten poems
- TẾT
- the body part factory
- the book of poems lost in Saigon
- The centuries of karma
- The Chư Mang Vernacular
- The concealed circling darkness
- the dark thoughts
- the discarded votes of a nation
- the dissertation of a rose
- the evidence
- the finite and the infinite
- the formation of a drop of blood
- the leaning tower
- the light
- the light dawning on your face
- the moment I greeted my mother to say goodbye
- The moonflower
- The moonflower(poem)
- the morning after pill
- the muse
- The Nation shall call upon the poet
- the ode
- the old
- the pain never budging
- the poem
- the poem, a knotted mess
- the poem has an inessential “yet”
- the poem, it will always surpass the aptitude of the poet
- the poem, it cried
- the poem, it’s already the past
- the poem, it’s not an owl
- the poem reacquainted with the lies
- the poem you’re coveting
- the poet
- the quiet
- the scent of you
- The sea asked the writer
- the sea of dreams
- the sea talks about everything else
- the second hand on the watch
- The small things – I’ve clicked on the mouse – The poems in the year book – When there was no more dream I could still reminisce – The unspoken words and the love lost – The truths you have forgotten, my love
- the smell of rats, mice roasting
- the smile and tears
- the solemn poem
- the storm in us
- the things he took with him
- the unimaginable, dust, I will become
- The United States will always be the United States of America
- the virus’ ode
- the virus doesn’t care
- the watch
- the white clouds’ last dream
- the world, now small in your eyes
- the words in gold
- the working class
- The year coming to an end
- the young poet
- There were only two people in isolation
- there will always be more of the poor than the rich
- There’s still one way
- they held your hand and kissed you on the lips
- they who have just learned how to love will open us up
- this is not a poem
- this world is a cave
- Thơ ngày 6
- those amongst you have disappeared into the dark
- those are the reasons the haiku has forever doubled in length
- Threats
- TIBET
- timelessly love shall belong to us
- trilogy
- two poems
- useless aspiration
- vessel of death
- Virus
- we all know our feet are grounded
- we have turned into one lonely night
- we will return
- we write in silence
- We’re the uneducated adults
- What would be considered as a tragedy, to a poet?
- When he’s quiet, he’s thoughtful. When she’s quiet, she’s plotting something.
- when loneliness is a ghost
- when poetry ignites
- when sadness is still too young on Christmas eve
- when she dies slowly in her sleep
- when sugar is no longer sweet
- when the clouds are weighed down by pain
- when the poem isn’t essential
- when there’s no one at home
- when you look in the mirror
- when you’re a poet, you’re a thief
- Who should I be?
- why is the poem entirely empty?
- Why not you, my love, but Sapa?
- winter’s eve
- within the aspirations of the rain
- without a voice
- words of a wheat field
- writing poetry is like splitting wood
- wrong
- yeah, the end of the year is exhausting
- you and him, the rain and sadness
- you are a fearless failure
- you enjoy watching me
- you have tattooed on your chest the letter F
- you made the mistake of turning darkness into light
- you put up with a grain of sunlight
- you saw the beauty of the young woman
- you think I’m done
- You’re a fungi
- you’re not a butterfly
- you’re a poem, unlike any other
- you’re not an alcoholic
- You’re washed away. Along with the past.
- your beauty resides in tears
- your lips bloomed like a flower
- your lips, mine
- A day in a life of an Eastern poet
- A portrait of Nguyễn Bắc Sơn
- An hour before the march
- Forgive me
- Gifts for those close and familiar
- If ever in the days to come
- Laugh, oh heroic cry
- My son came into the world, as my friend lay down his life
- Say
- The sickness of war
- The Vietnam War and Me
- To my children
- Hands and sadness
- Idol
- On my return
- On your return(em)
- Phạm Thái Anthem
- Saigon, a nameless memory
- When I leave
- A puddle of holy water
- C’est la vie
- In my personal experience
- It’s all wrong
- Message
- One Day
- Phương Bối at the end of autumn
- Rest in peace
- Seafoam
- There, I saw the forest clouds
- To me
- Upon the precipice of nothingness
- Yeah, something like that
- Watching my baby learn how to roll
- We’ll see
- a grey period
- a rather mad affair
- a ship drifting in the meadows
- a windless autumn afternoon
- a woman learning how to draw
- an aching discerned by heaven and earth?
- an afternoon at the end of April by Vu Gia river
- beyond boundlessness
- blindsided
- darkness is nothing but tears
- drifting spirits
- eyes mystified
- hair knots like barb wire during the day long commemoration
- I’m able to savour the morning through your eyes
- in bed in the rapids
- it was like this last night
- last night’s kiss
- light is the stripped-down sound of breathing
- may be
- midnight portrait
- much ado about nothing
- portrait
- ripping out the entrails of the night
- saigon 20h30
- seasoning
- sketches of yearning
- smoke – phượt
- suspicion
- the birds have lost their mind
- the highland’s winter attentive to the breath of foliage
- the last of autumn
- the sheer night rain
- the starkness of the city
- us for instance
- within the falling breaths
- you’re as irresistible as flowing water
Nguyễn Lãm Thắng – Poems for Kids [DREAMS OF A MORNING]
- Break time
- Brushing your teeth
- Comes summer
- Each hand is a helping hand
- Fun!
- Going home
- In someone else’s shoes
- Mud slab
- My first lesson
- Naughty pup
- Needle and Thread
- One mum
- Piglets
- Salt
- Storm
- Sweets
- The captured chicken
- The roaming sunlight
- Tiny tiny artist
- Tiny tiny hands
- Tiny tiny lessons
- The rooster’s ripped red comb
- The scarecrow
- The Streetlamp and the Moon
- Trees
- a haunting season
- a poem composed for a gibbon on mount wandering
- a poem salvaged from a packet of cigarette
- a weed strewn path
- at the art factory
- be the ocean
- like a child far from home
- lost
- on the shimmering pages of enormity
- the brandy bottles scented with the smells of the kitchen
- the spattered empty anger
- the vigour of an ancient tree
- And the morning is as cold as the century
- The innumerable poets
- Touch down
- Windswept on either side of the night
- A poem in an outbreak
- Beauty queen
- Coffee
- Crumbs on my birthday
- Robot
- Self-inflicted
- So, you won’t be home for the new year
- There’s power but now there’s no water
- 6/8
- 40 years in Australia
- A life worth living
- A Man Born of The Human Spirit
- a meal for worms
- a sinister dark cloak
- A time of Age
- A walk in the rain
- A woman drinking before the sun’s over the yardarm
- An endless blue is the falling sky
- Acceptance
- Alienation
- allow me the fall
- Anh yêu à
- April
- Armed with my heart
- As teardrops, the letters fell
- At what age are you expired?
- audit
- âm hộ
- Bạn có biết sợ không
- Beauty is not in perfection; beauty is by the years marred
- Blocking out the articulation of the murderous dark
- Boo 1
- Boo 2
- Boo 3
- Boo 4
- Boo 5
- Boo 6
- Boo 7
- bury me in the night
- Circles and butterflies
- Cut me open
- Dear Pen Pal
- Delete.
- Dignity is a measure of your pride?
- Do you know how hard it is to be a good wife?
- Dream
- Dutch courage
- ecstasy
- Envy
- Equality
- exodus
- F-4 Phantom II or MiG-21?
- Father and daughter
- fight
- Fly baby fly
- forty days and forty nights
- Fuck it!
- i
- I am a single rib bone from your chest
- I have your word
- I love you
- I love you like the Sun loves fire – Em yêu anh như Mặt Trời yêu lửa
- I want to take a razor to the arch of my feet
- I wish I could hate you
- “I was at a loose end (didn’t know what to do -to kill the time)”
- I witnessed it
- I’m frightened that I may forget.
- I’m an orb in a box
- in sleep my craving for you less
- In the dark
- In the shadows an ego
- in truths denied
- in your vernacular
- Into a thousand teardrops
- it would surpass time and your vernacular
- Just This Life
- không cần nhắc đến thằng Mỹ
- Không in
- Làm ướt cả gia đình tôi.
- Lê Vĩnh Tài and I – What is in a rose?
- Letters in a bottle
- Little girls
- Loneliness
- Ly rượu mừng
- Mama, now that I’m old enough
- Me and my little bro
- Mưa sa
- My Vernacular
- New year’s day means surviving
- Nè cậu con trai
- ngọt ở chỗ tiếng cười khúc khích
- Ngộ ơi
- Nha Trang
- những vì sao vần ồn
- “nothing gold can stay”
- Old, how much aging is old?
- On a mountain peak
- On the clouds rest my weary soul
- Ông xã ơi
- Papa’s retirement
- people are no different to trees
- PROPERTY
- reading poetry
- Red
- Shani, my best friend
- She is graduating without a gown
- songngutaitram
- Souls
- Stop bleeding: old age, new wife.
- Stripped back and bare, the soul of my mother’s land, by my hand, my flesh exiled.
- Summit.
- Surpassing the impossible
- tàn nhang
- Tặng người tự do
- Tear it all up
- tham vọng làm người – the desire to be human
- Tháng tám em không làm thơ
- the accumulating sum
- The bird from an ancient highland
- The conservation of Endangered Green Sea Turtles on Six Senses Con Dao
- the female translator
- The flaws in poetry
- The Isle
- The knife at my throat
- The formidable sea
- The grains of sand
- the maker of man
- The moments of inspiration late at night
- The owner of my dignity
- The poet
- The present, a-void
- The Princess and I
- the rainmaker – người làm mưa
- The sadness took me to that place
- The sugar in coffee beans
- The voice of refugees
- the weed through the cracks in the road
- the woman I love
- The words, should it not be felt not heard?
- there are things like torn paper
- Thi sĩ
- Thirteen
- Thì tôi tập đánh vần
- Thư Giáng Sinh 2020 gửi thi sĩ
- tìm em ở đỉnh chiều mây
- Today the sky was swarming blue
- Tôi thương bạn hiền
- Tự lự
- Twenty One
- Twenty Two
- Uống rượu, tập đánh vần
- what is soft like the sound of silence
- When I’m under
- Who am I?
- Why am I so changeable?
- why are you afraid
- Why do I like Poetry?
- Will you meet me at dawn to then abandon me at dusk
- Wistful
- with intention, I will trim and cut
- you are a beautiful mess
- you are the embodiment of text
- your skin and mine, they do not know each other
- Your wit my lady is my downfall
- As fragile as breathing
- Don’t be like the wind
- In the middle of the desolation of the human heart
- Spin doctor
- Subject matter
- What is there left to say
- Why is there such a fuss and rush in falling apart
- Wildflowers
- A bunch of Lunatics
- A dream in red
- A game of sinking to the bottom of the sea
- A hand
- a house without a door
- A letter to the rain
- A Nation Gang Raped
- A thousand times seven
- A vicious circle
- a writer ingested
- accident
- All the little children
- Alone
- April
- Banished
- beheaded
- Bird Wings at the bottom of the Lake
- burying nothing
- Burying one’s shadow
- Butterflies high in the mountain
- Chư Mang in the fall
- Chư Mang to the market
- cracks
- dementia
- Ego consoling self
- Empty
- Faces of familiar spirits
- Farce
- Fight
- fire
- Horses, people, white clouds
- imagine
- In this way, I managed to rescue the words
- Just like that, I had managed to chase away the cloud
- Lone wolf
- Long crazy days
- mesmerizing muddle
- Mixed up
- necropolis
- Not my words, but
- On The Flipped Side
- Portrait of the truth
- Resident zombie
- sips of blood
- speaking for the dead
- straightening a curl as I walk
- The letter “T” in the word “Time”
- the old retired whore plucking duck feathers
- the original storm
- The women in dreams
- There’s a star lighting a fire
- those who do not know how to laugh
- Waiting for them
- We consume words
- Wild stallion
- Forever yes
- I thought
- Last words
- Let’s go home together, if that’s okay
- Say
- Surprisingly infinite
- Tears of an aching soul
- The idea of endless love
- The thousand years waiting for you
- The trance of quiet prayer
- A day void
- A vessel of clouds
- A woman of 40
- At the very end of darkness
- Mourning the meadow
- The twenty-year-old’s smile
- A guide on how to write
- A house without a door
- A sketchy self-portrait
- A sunny bloom at the peak
- An anthem of rainy days
- An impotent town
- Ant city
- April 30th, 1975
- As the train arrives
- Fish in a well
- Hair cuts on the pavement
- I. – V.
- Strumming the strings of exile
- The COVID cruise
- The Days
- The sea and morning glory
- This nation
- Titonia
- Three portraits of (unpatriotic) Việt Kiều
- Under the woven cloche
- Absence
- An old season
- Commitment
- Dining room still life after some shuffling
- Fretful
- Leaving
- Listening
- Movement
- Rain artist
- The net
- The origin
- The scent of poetry
- a dragonfly yearning for the Sun
- a poem in the wind
- A sound like a falling egg
- a statistic
- at the heart of a tiny city
- autumn through my window
- “be thankful that we’re living in peace”
- calamity
- corpses of letters
- Day by day, by the door, I’m dying
- dusk
- Exiled in my homeland
- “foreigners“
- fronds of sugarcane like swords
- hungry dogs
- I have returned to the old mountain
- I slept away the afternoon
- I’m awake in the middle of the night in the old house
- I’m sitting beneath a damp forest canopy
- I’m sorry
- learning how to talk
- love will turn into resentment
- March in the dark
- My fellow citizens
- nailed to the cross
- new year’s eve
- night
- nirvana at the bottom of the pond
- On the autumn pavement
- papa
- penitence affront my student, yet 16
- please, someone tell me
- Resting in mother’s house
- September’s moaning of independence
- Sleep falls through the night
- Son, you are older by the day
- summer
- summer in an eggshell
- the affection sound in the lake
- the brown dark earth
- the children asleep on the pavement
- the classroom
- the day I die
- the endearment in the lake
- The hero sat there crying
- the living word
- THE MICE CHRONICLES
- the nation
- the snake’s as beautiful as a brushstroke of a toddler
- The verses shifted in the middle of the night inside my chest
- to watch a soul fall out from its body
- Tsinghua University Student Protest
- waiting for my ride
- when the poem had completely lost its mind
- Within the nest of crumbling leaves
- women
- yearnings
- winter awakening
- Easter
- I’ve been on the battlefield
- Mantra
- My poetry is about love not an invitation to love
- Oh look, a poem by thanh dang
- She’s even lovelier than the day she met him, in her dream
- The Book of Life
- The long journeys are the turning points in one’s life
- Two girls, comparing notes
- When bullets and bombs shreds poetry into pieces
- A funny verse
- A sad song
- A spot on the bus
- About Quách Thoại
- All in the name of
- Black
- Constant, the love poems in times of separation
- Easter
- Grass
- High rising
- In time
- Mai
- On duty
- One Verse
- Serenade
- Serendipity
- Sit
- Sleeping rain
- Stages of grief
- Still you
- Summer anthem
- The definition of a good poem
- The early city moonrise
- The Emerald Tears
- The island
- The Red Cottage, the Blood Moon
- The verses in praise of love
- To Quách Thoại
- waltz
- Yours alone
- December blues
- Freedom
- Monument
- My return
- The coronation of love
- The duty of a poet
- The dying light on Tam Giang Lagoon
- The empty cafe
- The night train
- The one who stayed
- The Poet
- The poor things
- The Professional Beggar
- The scum of life
- You(em), heading for…
- You’re so small(em), how could you be the North Seabird
- Widow
- A dark neighbourhood
- All the shiny green stars
- Animal sacrifice
- Aqua
- Beneath the mountains
- Love
- Nets
- Reconciliation
- The Blues upon the barb runners
- The Caterpillars contained in jars
- The doorway in my ear
- The Hues of My Youth
- The Last Rites
- The Vows
- The wall inside a bottle of Tequila
- there was something at the bottom of the lake
- Characters
- Evening Prayer
- Nan’s kerosene lamp
- Season changes in a dream
- slices of time
- The resounding bells of reverie
- the towering shadow of bambusa reached the height of dusk
- Wherever papa may be
- I will love and honour you all the days of my life. Until death do us part.
- so many countless high-minded barricades
- THE OLD MAN’S COLLECTION OF LOVE POEMS
- to come and go
- AN EPIC REQUIEM FOR ALL THE POSSIBLE PATHS & ALLEYWAYS
- blood, marrow and tears
- dusk
- the silent women
- the wings within the mist
- Verses of poetry brush her hair each night
- WITH Kafka
- Clouds
- Paris. without Thi Vũ
- Poetry
- She’s armed with an onslaught of undercurrents
- The ramble
- Which half?
- Who am I
- Wisteria
- A quiet word with the sea
- A stallion itching for the road
- Drinking alone
- Speechless
- The ever ending
- The night sea
- The pavement & the moon waltz
- Waiting for you
- A gradual asymptomatic beauty
- An autumn anthem
- An endless goodbye
- At the end of the year
- Attitude
- Consigning Phương Trâm with the ?: ? ? ?
- Dare not name
- Devastating – Optimism
- Home
- I’m searching for myself
- Loneliness & Loneliness
- Man’s best friend
- Maria Nguyen
- One plus one
- Regret
- run run run keep running
- Soul &…
- The chained door
- The damn…evil disease
- The hot months
- Through a narrow door
- V dear
- Wake up
- Words & poetry