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.

Dreams, Poetry



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.

Dreams, Poetry


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.