Dreams, Poetry

Peculiar Beauty

Hush child

don’t let their words hit

let none those benight of creativity

strip off your ingenuity

for the finesse of artistry

doesn’t come by easy;

It isn’t meant for the ordinary

nor the mainstream

so let none of those

distance you from the brilliance

the rich

the vivid

the unusual strings imbuing

your psyche;

Art is for those

whose minds run free

whose thoughts live out of boundaries

whose perceptions do not have lines in between;

So my darling

do let nobody

rein in this peculiar beauty;

For the world will

writhe and grieve

if we were to ever

 lose a mind

as novel and surreal

as yours is.

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Dreams, Poetry

Dreamers

Dreaming

is for the most imaginative

the ones with a mind

that could envelop the universe

for those whose spirit lives for

unorthodox ideations

unconventional musings

for those whose essence

runs on pure chimera

and at times, impulsive notions

or so they say

of dreamers;

Yet it seems that

Dreamers are the privileged

living within the bubble they call home

passing opportunities they decree too meagre

singing praises of hopeless romanticised reveries

while waiting for the best chance that matches their standing

as if they could live on by whims and whiffs;

Yet they forgot how castles were made

through centuries with

countless of swords and stones

how dynasties were formed

through unthinkable drops of sweat and red;

And so dreamers never learn of

the product of their majestic palace

or abiding legacy;

They never learn

how it truly feels like

to finally wake up from a dream.

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Dreams, Poetry

Rainbows

(for the late Princess Diana)

Her heart sheds of

blue

green

red

yellow

of all colors

like those found brightly lit in rainbows

sunshine and daisies;

Though seething raving storms

shading black and drabs

were no stranger

to her rugged path of living;

Yet none

were too strong nor dire

to ever stop her

from shining the world with

her heart of pastel tints;

None could ever

stop her from giving the world

a little more rainbow

to live with.

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Dreams, Poetry

Stardust

Flipping through

her astronomy book

she casually murmured

“how much do stardusts weigh?”

not expecting an answer

to this inanity;

He peered at

the tall mirror

to their left

fingers along his chin

took a minute

before moving his lips;

“As light as air and

as heavy as meteorites”

It all depends

on what the person

infront of the mirror sees.

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Dreams, Poetry, Short stories

The Meaning (of life)

White piece

Blank sheet

Empty canvas

waiting to be dirtied

in the name of art;

The theme this week
was “Meaning”;

She wasn’t too sure

what to fill in

this time it was vague

unlike the previous weeks;

Yet maybe it was just what an artist

needed

letting the colors

of her mind flow

without supervision;

Meaning of art?

Meaning of mankind?

Meaning of life?

She wasn’t yet sure

which one speaks

to her in her

palette of pastels;

She wasn’t even sure of

the meaning of her own;

She is an artist

meanings to her

are temporary

and flow like fluid;

Whenever she starts

painting a new piece

a new meaning lives

and dies immediately

when she’s finished;

Face in her hands

Wet hair disheveled

Eye bags sagged;

It’s been 3 days since

and 3 days remaining

to nail this final painting;

The last of her hurdle

the last piece she needs

to join the ranks of prominent artists;

Just one

last painting;

Then she suddenly recalls

her first painting

when she was fifteen;

Her mother’s

face dotted with drops of bittersweet;

It was their first

family trip overseas;

A mother’s guilt towards

her child for not being able to give

her more than what she wishes to give;

Her second painting

was a week after;

both she and her mother

sitting under a blanket of stars

eyes crinkled

beaming;

It was the best moment

of their entire trip;

Her third painting

was a blend of pastel hues

on a human body

with budding flowers

etched all over it;

It was her first time

in love

and a truly fairy tale feeling;

Her fourth painting

was dusky and grim

a lone figure

in absolute darkness

gated away from civilization;

It was that one time

when she felt most alone

and misunderstood

when her dreams were drowned

and looked down by so many

that even she herself

stopped believing in her own dreams;

Her eyes were dewy

cheeks rounded

an unconscious grin emerged;

She knew

what the meaning of life

was for her;

She raised an arm

and a plethora of colours

poured over the canvas

like how the notion

actualizes in her head;

The meaning of life

lies in people

and dreams;

We make memories

with those who warm our hearts

and make history

with dreams that

set our hearts burning

wild and free.

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Dreams, Poetry

Caged

I sat in a cage;

When they came

and read to me

stories

of those

who wandered

beyond

these four edges;

Men who

reached for the stars

could fly high in the sky

and cross mountains of all heights;

So I lusted

for an adventure

out of these walls

day in

and out

I fought the bars

that held me in;

Believing that one day

I too

can be like those men

that they read

doing almost

unthinkable things;

Tears

and sweat

I shed

till one day

I see them

came back;

 with a silver key

hanging in one of

their pockets;

They sat

and read

the stories

of those

who conquered the beyond

not once touching the keys

dangling on;

Go out there and

you too can achieve wondrous things

they smiled

then left;

And I sat

baffled and disheartened

wondering what

should I do next.

(If it helps you to understand better, “They” refers to society.)

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