Others, Poetry


Lights flashing

spotlights hovering beneath marbled ceilings

stale Swarovski chandeliers complementing

those satin robes ladies were dressed in

hand in hand with men in tuxedos and

diamond crusted cufflinks;

The crowd was a picturesque

painted in strokes of wealth, popularity

an epitome of glamour

and the esteemed;

When he finally came through

the 15-foot tall mahogany doorway

soft applauses echoed throughout the grand lobby

all eyes laid on him

the one most popular

and wealthy standing;

His eyes sharpened

jaw eased, broad smile across

wine glass high up above his chin

hailing each and every one’s

trivial accomplishment in coin and fame;

Yet beneath this glittered coating

laid a rotting dull pith

benumbed to solitude and masquerade

for the ages spent in pursuit

of mere fame and money;

As he edged closer to wealth

and acclaim

he fell back from

friends and family;

Yet tragically those in awe can never

see past the tinsel crust

of those lacquered over

by popularity

or money.

For Daily Prompt: Popular

Others, Poetry

City Of Songs

A plethora of waves

wafted forth with the gale

along with aria it took

who caressed those in view

A filler for the pith

an allay for the soul

let loose a sanity untold

of reveries and gold

Come forth

apple of descant

aglow midst the monotone

Come forth thee

of ardour and jigs

A city of arietta

of whom

will chime my soul

Others, Short stories


Her heels tapped against the cold, tarred ground.

It was a chilly Tuesday evening, a day like any other – home, work, then home again. She strolled along the usual road uphill, the road back home.

A gaggle of ramblings echoed from a brightly lit house to her left. She chuckled.

She knew well what it was – an only mothers party night ‘out’. Her mother was there too, she remembered how her mother was harping on about this night for the past whole week, and literally jumping whenever she spoke of this upcoming day. A day seemingly so ordinary, yet it meant something magical and disparate for her mother. She was glad of course, glad that her mother could have a “day off” for herself – being a 24/7 homemaker wasn’t exactly the easiest job.

For 25 years, the one word that she could think of to describe her mother’s life would be ‘mundane’. Her mother gave up her dream to be a fashion designer after she married her father and for 25 years, she slogged through with frying pans, spatulas and vacuums. Her mother was a hero, a silent hero – at least that was what she was to her.

But she couldn’t imagine being like her mother. She could not envision herself giving up on her dreams, her life and giving them to a family she might build one day. Perhaps that family would be her life at some point in the future, and she would willingly give up anything for them.

But not now.

She wanted to go after her dreams – she didn’t want blandness in her life – they were what kept her going, they were the ones that made her look forward to opening her eyes every single morning. She wasn’t overstating, the flames in her blazed the colour of pure white – the purest form of fire. Even she was astounded by her own sheer determination.

At least this was what she felt 2 years ago.

But now, she wavered a little.

Wasn’t life for her now a little mundane – just like her mum’s? Aren’t they both similar, with the only difference being the version of mundaneness they had?

The life she seeks to shun, yet after so many detours, she still ended up where she always wanted to avoid in the first place.

She let out a soft sob, then came to a sudden halt.

Something to her right drew her – she didn’t notice this before.

A breathtaking piece of darkness, spotted with lights – red, yellow, all sorts – and towering architecture that lined up amongst the darkness. It was beautiful, it was overwhelmingThe city at night was ethereal, and it somehow eased her emotions a little.

She lived here all her life. Yet for 25 years, she didn’t even once notice this spectacular panorama. Not once did she stop to observe and immerse herself in this beauty. Not once, did she decide to turn her head and look on the other side – the diverted path.

She smiled sadly.

What a fool she was, she thought.

Then, it hit her.

Amidst the mundanity, did she overlook the little sparks in life?

Did she generalise her mother’s life as prosaic, without even understanding how it really felt from her perspective?

Was it her blind adamant pursuance to run away, the one pinning her to this mundanity?

Was it her own scepticism of ever escaping mundanity the one that bounds her to it?

Did she, herself took upon mundaneness with her own arms – to choose to walk into the dire trap of banality?

“Thanks for the invitation, Emily.” A coarse, familiar voice came from behind.

She heard footsteps approaching her.

“Emma! Why are you sitting out here by yourself on such a chilly night like this?” a figure took a seat beside her.

“Hey mum, I was just admiring the view from here. Didn’t realise we had this amazing view sitting right in our backyard.” Her voice quivered a little.

“Wow, you didn’t know? I persuaded your dad to buy this house because of this wonderful view it offered.” She beamed, as her eyes lit up.

They sat together in silence – just taking in what the placid surroundings could offer them.

“How was the party?”

“Well, it was fun. Something like a wild ‘Mamas’ night, just without the weed or alcohol. And substitute that with recipes and Martha Stewart jokes,” she chuckled.

“You know, it’s good fun once in a while. But honestly, I’d rather my weekday nights be spent just chilling with you and dad on the couch and watching TV.” She continued, before placing her arm around her daughter’s shoulder.

“In the end, my family still gives me the biggest joy, excitement and fulfilment.” The corners of her eyes crinkled, along with a grin that brightened her wrinkled face.

In that instant, she finally understood.

In that moment, she felt infinite.

No longer was she bounded to the fetters of her own. 

via Daily Prompt: Infinite

Others, Short stories, The Original Collection

In solemn

The sky lay like an ombre carpet, huge droplets pouring down seemingly never ending.

Her gaze focused on the grove of thin-barked trees, fragile they may seem yet how they towered strongly, not hovering an inch. There they stood in solemn, undisturbed by the mayhem ensuing around them.

“The strongest people are the ones whose spirit never get beaten down, no matter how broken they get on the outside, they never break down on the inside.”

She took a sip of hot chocolate, mind bristling along with the storm brewing outside.



Her legs crossed. Her head tilted sideways on the window still.

Her gaze wandered out on the patch of empty grassland laid ahead.

A flock of brown-tailed birds caught her eye. They were rummaging through the bits of scraps that she couldn’t see from her window. Picking and pecking, they seemed to lost one important instinct of theirs for a moment. A tabby cat who had been approaching them with immense caution suddenly hissed and pounced onto the flock. With a loud screech and an almost immediate flap, the birds soar above, leaving the cat hovering her claws in mid-air.

They flapped towards the horizon, heading somewhere, anywhere. They didn’t had to give a care about how to or where to. They just had to fly wherever till their wings couldn’t hold. They were free to go wherever they want, to any unknowns or paradise out there.

How she long she could leave her humble town and roam places.

How she wish to be able to take off without any hesitation.

How she wish she could take away all the fear, doubt, practicality, and everything else that was holding her back.

How she wish she could just fly free.