It catches me unawares
This feeling of being scared.

It falls from the sky in shards of ice
Filling me up chilly cold with red hot spice

Of anxiety and anxiousness
Cold sweat on my skin, tightness

In my heart, I wish I weren’t so afraid
Of the worries and trouble I’ve made

As I work my way upwards, reaching for a sky
So high I feel…as if it’s almost a lie

But I don’t want to stop
When I’m so far yet so near to the sun rays of the top

I want this so much, I have no words to express
The fear, anxiety, distress

Is it worth it? I wonder
Should hope so, the voice in my head ponders…

As I face a bright new day
Though the sun fades, its heat dying, it’s still warm in May.

**Note: Dear All, I have been horrendously negligent of my blog this year and for that I’m really sorry!  I have been so busy with postgraduate research and teaching as well as working on a writing project that I haven’t had a chance to pop in.  In saying that, I think too, I have been short of inspiration for things ro write on here and thus took an unexplained leave of absence.  For those reasons, not all worthy! I apologise and hope you’ll still stop by my blog 🙂 I hope to revisit my favourite readers and follower and visit new blogs soon!  Enjoy my poem, it’s not brilliant but it was the first thing I’ve had an urge to write poetically in a long time and strangelt enough, it happened while I was on the train.  

I Think

I think
Therefore I am
But I think
About the am
That I have become
And wonder if
Just a little
This am
That I am
Is not the am
I have always been looking for.
I think
Therefore I am
But this am
Does not really think
Not the way am
Should think
In this world
Of poisonous
That still the spotlight
And overshadow
The simplicity
Of beauty
Stripped back
And bare
Plain as can be
A canvas–appreciated
No need to be created.
I think
Must think
And break
Away from this
Suffocating existence
Of trend
After trend
Of fashion
And yet…
I am one
Who cannot run away
From this decorating phase
Who itches to change
And beautify
What is…
As is.
I think
Therefore I am
When I can bear
To strip away
From the mainstream flows
Of peacocks
And roosters
Vibrant and beautiful…
And appreciate
The simple
Plain beauty
Of basic white.

(Sorry guys I disappeared! You know I’ve been reading over some of my old poetry and truly, I love them a lot more than the ones I write now. They say ‘writing is a way of knowing’ (quoted from Gloria Park an academic in language studies who quoted from a man called Ivanic I believe) and right now I think I’m desperately clinging on to the thoughts I had in this poem: Voices of Yesterday at the same time, I think I’m just evolving. What do you think? I’ve been through some roughish patches and life’s gotten busy and even though I want to express something, I think…I just need the time to think. I miss the dreams of my older poems oh wow there’s a title for another poem! But will it work? Haha thanks again for dropping by for a read! )

Winter is coming.

Winter is coming,

I can feel it in my bones—

That definite chill

That clings to the air

And the ominous disappearance

Of the blue, blue sky.

Mornings are cold,

So much chillier

Than before.

The frigid air that wraps

Around the blanket cocoon

That keeps me warm

In the safety

Of the dreamscape

Where summer still exists.

I dread the early mornings

The same one every day

That is no different

But for the time of the year

And the sun

Yet to rise.

I wake up every morning

And sigh that heavy sigh

Wishing the summer

That had left

With all its


Inescapable heat,

Would come back

And warm my bones again

In a way that hot cocoa

Only achieves

For the space of twenty minutes.

Sometimes I just pretend

That autumn is still here

That it isn’t just an imagined phase

Of seasons

That this year chose

To skip over

And throw me into

The depths of winter

And its chilly hell.

There is an unidentifiable itch

At the back of my throat

Coupled with the later


Wake ups

And the constant need to


The dry fields

Of parched land

At the back of my throat.

I sigh and think

With a heavy reluctance

Reaching for that



The cough drop—

That maybe,

Just maybe,

I should accept

The chill that clings to my bones,

The midnight mornings,

And hot cups of comforting cocoa,

And maybe, just maybe

Winter is here.

On The Cliff Edge

I stood upon the cliff edge,
my hair lifting in the breeze.
The sun is setting on the horizon,
and the sea is vengefully cruel below
Smashing waves upon waves
against the cliff face,
angrily protesting
yet quietly warning
In the undercurrent
Of a storm approaching.
Where are the clouds?
They’re hanging over my head.
I look up,
A scream plastered on face
Etched by the hands that frame it
Like an infamous scream
That we all know.
I feel it crumble
breaking apart,
One eye at a time
One finger at a time
Piece by piece
My shattered self rests
Upon the green grass
As the sun sets on the horizon.
A glow of indelible warmth
Casts shadows over my shattered self,
Leaving me bereft
Incapable of redemption…
I cannot hate
Cannot love
Will not want this shattered state.
Where is my salvation?
I look for it in you—
And think of all the princes,
And knights,
And horses,
That fill those fairy tales.
I realise then,
Standing on that cliff
With the breeze in my hair
And the stars in my eyes
Above me,
Watching over me,
I am my own salvation
My hero
My savior.
The sun will rise tomorrow
Even if I fall down
And suffocate.
The sun will rise again
And the memory of me
Will be lost in time
As a pleasant memory.
Somehow, some way,
I piece together the pieces
That are floating in the wind—
I will catch each one,
No matter how hard,
And if I fall,
Embraced by the water,
Somehow, some way
I will swim back to shore,
To stand on that cliff again
And feel the breeze
Ruffling through my hair.


Open Your Eyes My Love.

Open your eyes
My love
And see beyond
What separates us.
It is so lonely
Without your
And gentle gaze
Upon all
That I am.
Open your hands
My sweet
And accept the beauty
I give.
Let me feel
The endless warmth
Of your heart
In your
Ethereal touch.
Open your mouth
My darling
And taste the future
That still exists.
Do not yearn
For what was lost
And hide
Under covers
Hiding your beauty
From world that needs it.
Open your ears
My precious one
And hear the song
Of endless love.
Forever it shall sound
High among the stars
In a song of the universe
That exists in
A time
Beyond time–
In worlds
Beyond worlds.
Open your eyes
My love
And know that I
Will always be there for you
Even if you cannot see me.
Open your eyes
And see the world
That lives
Around you–
Can you see me now?

The Blue, Blue Sky

When the sky is blue,

Our fears are lost

In a sea of endless



By the clouds

Soft and puffy,

Heavy and dominating,

The moments of our lives

That float by,

Or come in a sudden squall…


And crackling,

Thundering across the

Great blue—

Anger burns

Deep within,

Sadness drills

A hole below

To where the darkness lurks

Waiting for that chance

To pull through

And steal away the blue,

Blue sky.

But always there is that

Endless blue


Of what the dark

Can bring.

Because it is always waiting,

In the form of a smile,

Open arms,

And gently floating clouds,

Waiting to come back.

Waiting to watch us

From above,

And be there,

With the sun shining

When our worries have faded

Even if

Only temporarily—

We are not alone

Under the blue,

Blue sky,

Just close your eyes,

Because happiness is waiting.

What Weighs Us Down.

We don’t always mean

What we say

When we say it

More like yell it

As it explodes from our mouths

In a fit of something

That was built on anger,

Or annoyance

Or stress

Or self-loathing.

We love you

We like you

We want to be your friend

Your lover

Your something.


We shake

And hate

How we feel afterwards

As our fingers tremble

And disgust fills us

As we wonder

Do we hate?

Do we love?

Is it the limit we have reached?

That makes us say

‘Sometimes I just hate

That part of you…’

And turn our backs

To walk away,

To stride through that door,

And slam it in your face,

To silently

And vengefully

Promise to ourselves

To never turn back.

So why do we go back

Over and over,

After we expressed

What had long been held

Tightly within

And our other selves


The side of darkness

Of curling envy

Of dreaded pain

Of self disgust…

Our words are true,

And emotion filled

Ripping away

The face that you always see.

We are not two faced,

Though it might seem that we,

We are just so calm

That sometimes you forget

That we are human too.

Don’t compare us to bullies

Or domestic abusers,

We are just your friend,

And sometimes,

We want to be heard too.


It’s not about you,

Even though

We lashed out at you.


Our shoulders are too heavy,

With things unrelated to you,


We just don’t know how

To express

What weighs us down the most.

We don’t ask for it,

But we want,

What you want,

And we want

Someone to see

What we really mean;

Look between the words

Of burning fire,

And put out the source

Give back our smiles

And take away

Just a little of

What was us down.



Amazing is…


Something beautiful,

The sun that rises,

The morning breeze,

A simple god morning,

That familiar grunt,

The smile that blooms,

The flower that opens,

The bee that buzzes,

The laugh of a child,

A hard won win,

The smell of triumph,

A warm hand shake,

The tears of happiness,

A cup of hot tea,

A shared biscuit,

When I breathe,

When night comes with ease,

A warm hand to hold,

Amazing is just being alive.


Voices of Yesterday

Yesterday, we were angry.

Yesterday, we cried for a future we couldn’t see.

Yesterday, we were dreaming,

About a golden apple

Sitting in the palm of our hand

Glimmeringly bright

Blindingly so

With patches here and there,

Of the world.

Yesterday, we were thinking of taking a bite.

Yesterday, we were tall with pride.

Yesterday we were smiling,

About the happiness we hold,

That can hardly be contained

By our small hands


Bit by bit…

Yesterday we had a dream so big.

Yesterday we were unafraid of chasing it.

Yesterday we were loving—loved.

But today is another day

To trudge along

Through the daily grind

Thinking about yesterday…

And all the things

We had nearly done

If the world hadn’t conspired

To be forgivably cruel.

Tomorrow, we will do as always.

Tomorrow, we will feel that spark again.

Tomorrow, we will dream once more,

Of the voices of yesterday,

And we will find what we have lost,

In the time that takes us by

Without us knowing

As we see more clearly

And less of the rose

That protected our childhood innocence…

Yesterday gave us today,

Today is just a day,

Tomorrow let us look

Once more

For those voices of yesterday.

This Is My Declaration

I am Australian

Regardless of my

Visual appearance.

I am Australian

Born and bred.

But maybe not

Through and through

The way some perceive.

I am Australian

Who’s short

With olive skin.

Who’s Chinese by blood,

But not necessarily by heart

I am Australian

I only speak English,

At the expense

Of my mother tongue,

For reasons you will probably

Never understand.

I am Australian

Regardless of

What You Say.

If you ask me

‘Where are you from?’

Do you really expect an answer,

Other than, from here?

Don’t look at me,

Up and down,

Don’t examine my cheekbones

And the green veins on my wrist

Don’t presume and assume

With that mono


Singular minded,

Colonised perception

That is too often present

Behind those innocuously asked

But infuriatingly insensitive

Question of, ‘where are you from?’

Should I ask,

‘Where you are from?’

And then tell you,

No, I mean


Should I comment on the fact

That the blood of convicts,

Run in your veins

Or that your parents’



Were migrants too?

Are you offended?

Just like I am

When you ask me

Where are you from?

What makes YOU

More Australian than I?

I am Australian

You have no right

To tell me

That I am anything

But what I am.

Have a care,

For where you tread

With your filthy,


Rooted in an



I am Australian.

Born and bred.

This is my birth country.

It is the country I have schooled.

The country I call my own.

Why shouldn’t I call myself,


This is Australia,

A country of many bloods

Of arms that sprout,

Reaching upwards,

A tree,

Just beginning

For those of us who have come,

For those who are the fruits,

Of the seeds planted.

How dare you have the gall

To imply

That I Am NOT?

I am Australian

As much as you

As much as those

Whose generations

Have exceeded

Those of my parents.

I am Australian—

Not by blood

But by birthright.

If I am not Australian

Then what the hell am I?

I Am Australian

So don’t tell me I’m not

With those oblivious questions

That do little but leave us

Hovering in the third space,

Defiantly straining against

The old traditions of the former generations

And the new and modern of our host

No.  Of which I have become a host.

We want to be accepted

For what we are,

What WE say we are,

And NOT what you think we are.

We are Australian

And this—

This is my declaration.

[ N.B ] This came out more strongly than I anticipated, but I think, those of us who are Australian born, but aren’t always perceived as Australian should not be afraid to be Australian.  Which, I know, sometimes is very difficult, specially when it seems like everyone is just so determined to go against you, telling you otherwise.  In truth, not everyone cares, so feel free to be yourself.  And while my above poem is well, a very strong declaration, it is all truth, for it has happened, and I have felt all those things, but the reality–not everyone is treated as such.  As we grow older, we learn to freeze out the irrelevant people, and focus on the world, one that is MUCH, MUCH bigger than the world of the school.  And out there, we are not alone.  And even though we aren’t, and we might meet people who are from all different backgrounds, this ‘where are you from’ question might become even harder to answer, but well, stick to what you know!  That is–who you are.  YOU are what you say you are, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.

This World

This world is a contraction

Of so many things.

We love and hate

Both at the same time.

We are lazy,

Yet we hate sitting.

We are actively busy,

Yet whine about being so.

We love to read,

Yet despise the time it takes

For the world’s most cherished books.

We watch a movie that steals our hearts,

Yet realise the time with a start

And stand to our feet

And whine some more.

We love alcohol

But cannot satiate our thirst

For fear of addiction

When in our rational minds—

Yet still we drink

And drink more for our pleasure

Highly aware of the cautions.

We want so much,

The world,

The love,

The deepest desire,

Yet fear the steps in between

I want

I can’t

I want

I can’t

I want

This world is a contradiction

Of itself,

That blooms and grows and breathes

Yet withers and cries

As it is being tended by the hands

Of its inhabitants

For better or worse

Until the end of time.

This world is a contraction

Of so many things.

We love and hate

Both at the same time.

We are lazy,

Yet we hate sitting.

We are actively busy,

Yet whine about being so.

We love to read,

Yet despise the time it takes

For the world’s most cherished books.

We watch a movie that steals our hearts,

Yet realise the time with a start

And stand to our feet

And whine some more.

We love alcohol

But cannot satiate our thirst

For fear of addiction

When in our rational minds—

Yet still we drink

And drink more for our pleasure

Highly aware of the cautions.

We want so much,

The world,

The love,

The deepest desire,

Yet fear the steps in between

I want

I can’t

I want

I can’t

I want

This world is a contradiction

Of itself,

That blooms and grows and breathes

Yet withers and cries

As it is being tended by the hands

Of its inhabitants

For better or worse

Until the end of time.


All I hear

is the silent scream

of the girl next door

whose heart is roaring in pain

as her voice fades

into the neverending rain.

[n.b.] random….little snippet that popped into my head just now.

The Chase

Reality is so frustrating
When it comes to lust and love.
There are so many voices of wisdom
But not enough single thoughts.
Falling in love
Is not like the books,
And it’s not even the whole thing.
It comes with the Chase,
Of flirtations
Shy smiles
And constant
Catching ups
So many
That by the time
You’ve caught up ten times
It’s not even a catch up
But is it a date?
Are the things you feel
The prelude of love?
Tongue tied
Clammy hands
Inability to speak
Goldfish mouths?
The constant waiting
The fretting
The wondering if he’ll text
Much less call.
The sudden change…
Is that normal?
Are we loved?
Much less, liked?
Should we chase?
Is it odd to want…
Even though we’re not sure
If we’re just becoming a nuisance?
Why can’t our mouths
Say the things that should be said the most?
Why can’t they open and say…
It’s over
Let’s be friends
We were wrong
I’m sorry for avoiding you
There’s no such thing
As a ‘polite’ answer.
Even if it hurts,
The wounds it carves.
There is no honour,
In circles
Entrapped forever
In a loop that never ends.
The chase
Can last a long time
And can end in a moment
Who has the right to fight
Belongs to the strong
To the lion at heart
And not for those
Who cannot bear it
This burden.
Man or woman
You carry the sword,
You cannot falter,
And must choose wisely
Put aside all your shame
And pieces of foolish pride,
And chase hard and fast
Follow the wildness in your heart
But do not lose sight of your dignity…
There is only so much…
If they love you back
You will know it
If they want you just as much
You will know it
But this is a game
A chase
An adult’s playground…
It’s a two way street
Give and take.
Not for the faint hearted,
And only for the persevering
This human dating game
Of Chase.

[N.b] inspired as I was about to drift off, so please excuse any typos!

Thank you.

It would be nice if I added pictures and gifs in this post, but I don’t want to overshadow the words I want to say.  It’s been three years since I had first made my blog (not exactly 3 years, but approx is close enough), and I have done a lot on here, and also, not enough.  Lately, I have been feeling low, down, and conflicted about various things, but like always, I’m taking it like a champ and going to surge through this to find the bright happy spot on the other side.

In truth, I’ve been meaning to say this for a long time.  Since sometimes I feel like I haven’t said it enough, shown it enough, or even reflected on it enough.  So today’s brief and very somewhat uncharacteristic post of mine, is this:

I want to say Thank You to all my friends, my family, for being there,

for giving me support and advice whenever I untangle my voice from the monster in my throat.

I want to say Thank You to all fellow bloggers for popping in,

and seeing what rubbish I write,

and what pops out of my head at random moments

of a supposedly busy day.

Most of all, I want to say

Thank You 

to everyone who likes my posts,

who comment

who reads

and who have stuck with me

for so long…you have become old friends.

And this,

is my appreciation,

for how much I appreciate you.

I am so grateful,

a feeling so ineffable,

that makes me want to reach through

this virtual world and hug you.

So Thank You.

Thank You All.

❤ ❤ ❤


Age is no reason

To say ‘life sucks’.

Age is no reason

To say ‘it’s too late’.

Age is a dream

That so many want.

Age is a line

That needs is constantly out of reach.

Age is tomorrow

And tomorrow,

And tomorrow.

Age is defined

By experience.

Age is an opening

For the future.

Age is not just

The lines on your face

The smoothness of your skin

The coarseness of your hands.

Age is a glass

Half empty

Half full


Waiting to be filled,

With the liquid of life.

Age is no reason

To say ‘life sucks’.

Age is no reason

To say ‘it’s too late’.

Age is undefined

By lines

By shadows

By experience.

Age is the gift of life,

Keep dreaming,

Keep living.

[N.B] I was inspired to write this because I just so happened to be watching The Internship again with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn.   Even time I watch that movie, I get this warm happy feeling in me, and I feel uplifted.  Happy.  My favourite part of the movie is the fact that despite age, the two main characters work hard in the face of what seems like the impossible in the current employment climate to get out of the blender.  I also like how they give hope to the young people, and teach them to dream.   Being relatively young myself and finding myself in a similar position to those kids in the movie–a literal fear of being unemployed, of not being able to get a job when you finish undergrad–I really relate to this movie, and I really love how in many ways, it tells you to dream, to try, to give it your all.  I’m always dreaming, and of course, still being realistic.  I believe, if you have a dream, you work at it, because along the way, all those other worries you have–not having a job, of being independent, they’ll solve themselves along the way if you stay true to yourself, to who you want to be, and not stray from that path.  Of course I’m being a hopeless optimist here, and maybe in a few years life might make me more cynical, but I hope, so long as I’m doing what I love, and that I still love it in the future, I will still be a dreamer.  And I should that those who have the experience and age, don’t stop dreaming.  Because even though life seems like it’s long gone, it doesn’t mean you can’t fulfil a long desired dream!  I know of someone who is finally going to fulfil her life’s wish even though she’s mature and constantly thinking ‘I’m too old now’.

I hope out there, whatever your age, I hope you guys are still dreaming too.  

Women Are Fickle

Women are fickle

When it comes to men.

We are prideful

And shameless,

About those we love.

We are happy

When with you,

And sad when

We’re not.

We take your word as gold

And learn how to melt it

To our own desires.

Women are just fickle

Like that,

As we try

And not be so overbearing

When really we aren’t,

We are just thinking

Of the greater good—


When we want—

You better take,

Because when it’s gone,

We don’t look back.

We are your everything,

And yet—

We are also nothing,

Playing seesaw with the moods

Of your heart.

We love your attention,

And feel neglected

When it’s gone.

We respect your space,

As you respect ours.

But we love to be reminded

Every so often that you haven’t died

In the meantime.

Women are fickle,

Loving and hating,

Wanting and needing,

Distant and cautious,

Always thinking,

Always wondering,

If we are good enough for you.

And if we’re not—

We don’t need to be told twice,

For we have our pride,

And there are always men to love—

Another man to love,

Who appreciate us,

The way we should be appreciated;

Who can stem our fickleness,

Hold our attention,

And steal our hearts.

There Is A Song.

There is a song

Going round

And round

In my head.

There are notes

Being strung

One by one

Two by two

Three in time

With each other.

There is a feeling

Spreading like wildfire

Running through my veins

Singing in my ears

Beating the hard,

Iced heart in my chest,




It explodes with a roaring burst

Setting fire to the soul,

Inflaming the core,

Cultivating a corpus

A repertoire

Of words that exceeds

The word of mouth,

The glistening light in the eyes,

The gesture of the hands…

I know what I want,

But I hold back,

And the song swells mournfully

In my head,

Speaking unreason

And reason

Two words at a time,







When I should be fearless,


All I have to do…

Is reach out my hand

And reach for the stars,

And hear the song

That is forever going on

And on

In my head,

In my heart,

Filling my very soul

Until I have you,

Right here,

In front of me,



There are some days

I just want to huddle

In a dark corner of my room

And think

‘how scary’

The world is.

There are some days

Where I just want to scream

In frustration

Of all the red tape

I’m seeing.

There are just some days

I feel the unease in my bones

A foreboding premonition

That might never come true

Just by reading a few words.

There are some days

I find myself staring

At nothing in particular

Wondering about tomorrow

Thinking about today

Reminiscing about simpler times

When yes and no

Right and wrong

Correct or incorrect

Needed no proof

Needed only trust

Had softer consequences.

There are some days

When all these fears

And realities

Come crashing down

A feeling of hopeful despair

Sends our convictions

Wavering in the wind

And leave us wondering if

We are achieving

Our means to our ends

That we are living

And not just

Existing in reality.

The Things in My Heart

I have a thousand things I want to ask

Whenever I look at you,

Whenever we talk,

Whenever I feel like I can relax

With you.

I want to ask,

What are we?

I want to ask,

Did you do this with your ex?

I want to ask,

Do I bore you?

I want to ask,

If I’m imagining this all?

I have a thousand things I want to ask,

Whenever you pay for my food,

Whenever you take me out,

Whenever you drive me home,

And I hold back,

Not sure what to do,

Not sure if I’m reading it right,

Not sure.

I am afraid,

That this is just what friends do

These days.

I am afraid,

That this is just what is considered normal

These days.

I am afraid,

That I might just be using you.

Am I wrong?

I have a thousand things I want to ask,

Whenever we talk,

Whenever I get your message,

Whenever I feel insecure.

I can’t help it,

This feeling in me,

That isn’t anything much at all,

And yet can’t be considered nothing

To take note of on the whole.

I have a thousand things I want to ask,

That shouldn’t be so hard to ask,

If I just open my mouth,

And ask.

But I am afraid of making that mistake,

So perhaps I shouldn’t ask,

The thousand things that sit in my heart.

I Am Not; I Am.

I am not

An intellect

A writer

A dreamer

An optimist

A thinker

An artist

A poser

A lover

A doer

A reader

A sleeper

But I love

To think of the things

That ought to be deeply thought

And express them in a way

I can do as freely as I choose

And long for a time when I can

Act in a way to save the world

And smile and say ‘it’s okay,

The world will be fine’

But it is a thought,

That might be thought

That needs to be painted

To screened on a sheet

To be dreamt of,

In future tense,

To be displayed in all

It’s wonderful glory,

It is love

At its highest,

A thing that ought to be done

A fairytale dream to be lived,

In the dark recesses of the night time,

I guess I am,

An intellect

A writer

A dreamer

An optimist

A thinker

An artist

A poser

A lover

A doer

A reader

A sleeper

Someone so ordinarily special.