The Mermaid's Journey: Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 25


The Mermaid’s Journey

I was foolish to give my voice away
to try and belong to another world.
I thought that I needed to leave my home
in order to find what I really wanted

I loved exploring all these new things
in this world I never really knew,
this brave new world
that has such people in it.

But in losing my voice
I lost part of myself
I move like a shadow,
all shape, but no sound.

The woman I used to be
remains in my mind
In this tempestuous dance,
I search for myself again.

This desire, this constant search for satisfaction
is such stuff that dreams are made of
I reach out for the unobtainable,
and pile up the stones of my untapped desires

Through silent screams and stormy weather,
I begin a new journey in this paradoxical dance.
In denying myself of what I seemingly want,
I begin to find what I was looking for all along

Maybe I was never really meant to have the things I want
Because those things wouldn’t help me become any better
It took leaving the brave new world and returning home
to make me realize that home was what I longed for all along

I appreciate what I have all over again
and in this newfound gratitude, my voice returns to me
No longer do I dance in the shadow of my former self.
Instead, I rest in the relief that comes with finding home

This new union of the thesis in my search for satisfaction,
to the antithesis of the constant self-denial
have formed a new synthesis that takes hold of my heart.
While I’ll always journey far and wide, there is truly no place like home

Strength in Fragility and Cirque D'Etoiles (revised)


Strength in Fragility


(A response to this poem I saw on Instagram:


You put up such a strong front

Proud as a peacock,

strutting your stuff for all to see.

Inside, you see yourself as fragile

Using a stranger’s love

to fulfill some validation or need.


I understand the yearning for someone

But look at the truths that surround you

They speak of your true strength,

not the facsimile of pride,

but the beauty you have within.


You may be fragile, but you haven’t broken

In movement, you build up a warrior’s strength

Like a star, you shine brightly in the dark

and you don’t shine alone.

You are never as alone as you think you are.


It’s so easily to lose yourself

trying to gain a strangers approval,

to make an easy lie

with the click of a cameraphone.

Let go of all of that.


Jump over the fences blocking your way.

Keep dancing to the music

and go play in the street.

You’re just beginning to learn

how to follow your own beat.



Cirque d’Etoiles (Circus of the Stars, revised)


So many people have been passing away.

I wish it could stop.

Death has been constantly on my mind

ever since I first lost somebody I loved.

It was their time, I know,

but it hurt me because that person mattered to me.

I have people in my life who are growing old

I wonder when their time will come.

It’s never easy to understand.

It’s always sudden.

And it’s always painful.


What hurts more is when people lack empathy

when I try to make sense out of the senselessness of death.

Their empty hearts hurt


It doesn’t matter to me that I never knew these people

and that they never knew me.

These are people whose light shined into others’ lives.

Somebody out there

has just lost

a husband, a father, a son, a mother, a daughter, a wife.

They may have been as distant to me as the stars in the sky,

But their light still shined into my life.

And now their stars have gone out.


All things tend towards chaos

Life is the tightrope we walk to avoid it



Death arrives like the ricochet from a cannon’s blast

Throwing everything off-kilter

Down into the black without a safety net


Death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints

Every life shines and fades as quickly as a meteorite in the sky

Millions of meteorites fall everyday,

yet supernovas are the ones that shake us up

We can understand the death of an old, worn out star

Yet when other stars die out, especially in quick succession,

it throws the universe off-balance

more than the deaths of little comets and meteorites


Is it just the succession?

The confusing juxtaposition between the end of one life

and the continuation of another?

The stars are supposed to be constant

yet they fall and they fade and they die

and nobody understands,

nobody explains why.


Maybe it’s not the fault in our stars

that throws us off our tightropes

Maybe each supernova

reminds us that we’re each a little infinity

and some infinities are bigger than other infinities

Stars fall and fade and die

but each supernova gives birth to something new

With each piece from the fallen stars,

we create an order out of the chaos

embracing the infinite


No safety net is needed

because our hearts are our wings

Love, the fuel that propels us to fly

You can take the stars out of the sky

but you can never take the sky itself

With love, we send a kiss out to the stars

Creating tiny pieces of light that shine in the dark

Conversations with a Bird


Prompt: Things unsaid


What brought you here to my backyard?
Choosing the grapevines as your nesting ground?
How can you stay so calm
even as the rain pours all around?
When the lighting flashes and the thunder crashes,
don’t you get scared?
When will your little ones hatch?
Will I get to see them?

This wasn’t the first time a bird chose my house
as a makeshift nesting ground
Three years ago, there was one who gave life in the rain gutter
I always wondered what brought her here.
I wonder if you’re the same bird.

I understand why you didn’t choose the birdhouses
The neighborhood cats are sneaky.
But I’m still astonished that you chose my home
amongst all the other real trees out there.
Then again, the leaves on the vine look very tree-like
and the bamboo beams are as strong as any branch.

Enjoy your stay for as long as you need to be here, little bird.
The backyard is a good place, all things considered
Seeds are falling from the pomegranate tree
There’s a feeder full of rice, but you’ll have to fight the crows over it.
Most important of all, you are safe

I never really had a pet.
All the goldfish I had eventually died.
I’m allergic to anything with fur
and I can’t take care of plants, let alone reptiles.
I’m glad that you can take care of yourself
that you’re allowing my backyard to be part of your life
It’ll be sad to see you go,
but thankfully, I have photographs to help me remember.

The Cafeteria (Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 16)


(Prompt: A Food Establishment)


Do you remember the cafeteria?
There was a patio right outside,
a small field where kids played soccer.
This was where we first met.

I found a book that belonged to your friend
You waited with me at the bus stop nearby.
I always knew from that day on,
that I could always sit with you.

Everyday, you were there,
with a smile
and a tuna fish sandwich,
ready with a tall tale to tell.

For four years, you were one of my constants.
Between overpriced lunches and bad dates
I could always go to the cafeteria
and talk to you.

Then one day, you had to leave.
Several months later, you left for good.
You left this world
and left me behind.

I haven’t gone back to that cafeteria since.
Although it comes to mind every now and then.
I wonder if there’s a cafeteria where you are now.
And if there is, can you save me a seat?

Tea Time (Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 14)

tea time


Tea Time

It’s almost like a ritual.
Before work,
when I have cramps,
or before I sleep,
I have a cup of tea.

In the morning,
I drink English Breakfast
with brown sugar or maple syrup.
Recently, I added lemon juice
and it tastes like Heaven,

I don’t sweeten my chamomile,
but sometimes I do add grapefruit juice.
It smells like daisies and tastes subtle
Soothes my uneasy stomach
and helps me to sleep.

When I need something that smells nice,
I go for green
Either jasmine or mint
depending on my mood
No sweetening necessary.

Making tea is an exercise in patience
Boiling the water, adding sweetener
waiting for the mixture to cool.
Whenever I make tea of any kind,
time slows down to a crawl.

The Ocean of My Mind (Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 12)



Prompt: Serious or Silly

The idea starts like a light
Like the green light in The Great Gatsby
Beckoning me towards it
with its siren song of “Follow me.”
All of a sudden, I’m down the rabbit hole
What starts as a small idea
Overwhelms me like a tidal wave
It becomes an uphill climb
trying to fight my way out,
to fight for control.
Then the winds change
I find myself in the eye of the hurricane
I realize, in the stillness,
that I need to be still.
To stop fighting and slow down.
I take a deep breath
and follow the wind.
I cannot chart the entire ocean
But I can navigate the waters
And ride out every storm.
Instead of letting myself sink,
I learn to swim and hoist the sails.
I’m not going down with this ship.

Happiness Is (A Sonnet)


Prompt: Emotion


Happiness is waking up on Sunday,
the sunlight streaming into your bedroom.
You wake up, dreams of last night gone astray,
but the dream was good or so you assume.
Happiness is making a cup of tea:
kettle-boiled water, lemon, and syrup.
You drink it up, feel the serenity,
then say a thankful prayer to gear up.
Happiness is being with those you love,
the ones who know what’s in your heart.
The need for small talk is disposed of
When you feel like you’re never far apart.
Happiness is the song that sings “Good night,”
filled with gratitude, hope, love, and delight.

Ode To The Library (Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 9)



Ode to The Library

Dear Library,
Thank you for being my favorite hiding place
All throughout the days that I called myself a student.
No matter what happened or where I was,
I knew I could find safety in your silent shelves.

In high school,
I could sit amongst the likes of Austen and Shakespeare
While reading romance novels or comic books
or whatever new book caught my eye that day.

In college, I would grab a small pile
(and by small I mean as much as my arms can carry)
and sit in the lounge that looked out at the campus
It was also a nice place to take a nap.

Nowadays, I have to make a drive for the library
And they weren’t the hideaways they once were,
but I can still go there whenever I need an adventure,
because I can always get lost in a good book.

My Sixth Grade Notebook (A Garland Cinquain)


Prompt: Doodle poem

I liked to draw
little five pointed stars
Pentacles, enclosed in circles

I don’t
want to be here
I love to read and write
But adventure is out there and
I’m stuck

This is
the sixth circle of hell
A white-walled box called “school.”
Nobody understands me here
at all

All of my friends
have grown up or moved out
I’m stuck waiting for my freedom

I write
I make stories
Each story is like a star.
Scribbling in my notebook, I

want to be here
A white-walled box called “school”
I’m stuck waiting for my freedom

Urban Paradise (Poem-A-Day Challenge Day 7)



Prompt: Urban

In my perfect life,
I don’t have to drive anywhere.
I’d be living in the city.
Everywhere I need to be
Is either a walk, a bus, or a train ride away.

I would start my day looking out at the city
Eating breakfast out on a terrace or a fire escape
The cacophany of the traffic is music to my ears.

The city becomes my muse
as the morning light reflects off of every skyscraper,
bathing the streets with hope.

I would go to places for writing
like a bookstore with a reading nook
or a village cafe,
taking inspiration from all the things I see.
Each sight and sound
becoming part of my poetry.

In reality, cities can be scary, cynical places.
The city of my dreams is just that, a utopia.
An urban paradise that can never truly be
And yet even the dream of that city
Inspires the likes of writers like me.