NaPoWriMo #7 – Robbed

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry
a thief entered in daylight,
breathing air-tight,
with vexatious appetite, 
left the house frozen,
but patronisingly rosen,
each petal coerced me to an empty room
i, a cartographer shrouded in gloom,
found nothing 
my youth 
had gone. 

First-Act Curtain – NaPoWriMo #6

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry

Hello everyone! Today, I was scrolling through Instagram and came across a wonderful post by @christinemaricomics , which I have taken a quote from for today’s poem’s inspiration. Enjoy!


As I grew older, I began to feel a different, yet familiar, emotion in the same part of my heart – experiencing something so real but wondrous you feel as if you’re in a dream’

A Self-Care Quarantine Bath – NaPoWriMo #4

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry

For a really long time I had no idea what to say about the quarantine. I didn’t really have any words to describe what I was feeling. Then I FINALLY managed to find some in my brain, and stiched them together to make this poem. Enjoy!


We stood at the end of the world,
and stared long and hard.

But everything appeared strangely still:

No bloodied bodies, no mangled corpses, no flames to lick them and swallow them whole.

the grass beneath us
with every sunlight beam
spun in delight,
curving itself to reach the clouds.  m

So, we let it feed on our swords and pitchforks,
let them grow moss like wigs atop their heads,
and returned indoors.

But even still,
we are fighting.

Some mornings
the dressing gown is tied so tightly,
it is more noose than negligee.

Some afternoons
the dining table is laid so neatly,
it is more confinement than contentment.

And in the evenings, 
when clocks become a glaring reminder
of all those hours that have been held hostage,
it is harder to push forward into
another twenty-four.

But even still,
we are learning.

Learning to let the hours sit with us in the bath,
and merge together
like a watercolour painting.

Sometimes, the only colour I see is grey.

But today, I think
I may have seen a
hint of green creep its way up through the bubbles,
as the grass stretched itself through the windows
to come say hello.

Des Voeux Road West, Hong Kong – NaPoWriMo #2

NaPoWriMo 2020

Hello all! Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem about a speicfic place. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my first apartment in my semester abroad last year in Hong Kong and what a nice place it was (sometimes), so here you go – enjoy! 🙂


Des Voeux Road West never faced west,
only towards the other blocks opposite ours. 

Each morning,
my foot was met with a bunk-bed ladder
too slippery for
any human 
who had slept through the sweatiness of night. 

But, I'm convinced it wasn't meant for
human legs,
since each night the scurrying of thistly legs decorated the wooden floorboards, as a woosh of red went past us and 
-- EEK A COCKROACH! 

The tssst of cockroach repellent was a tune we knew well,
a prayer song we'd sing
each night
to keep those sinful creatures away.


Each day, 
we, unwilling pilgrims, travelled by feet to the 6th floor 
or lok 
lok 
locked the door yet?
We couldn't 
- the handles had to be turned in opposite directions,
so 
each afternoon shop 
meant sticky custard buns by the time 
entry was permitted. 

When the buns had been bitten,
and stories of the workday distributed with them,

the Bunks craddled us to sleep
and told us their their stories of a better Hong Kong,
where agorabphobia trembled at us leaving the house,
and police had vanished, so
the fish-smelling, Cantonese-yelling road lay ahead,
just for us.

And then we awoke at sunrise,
with buildings lain before us,
facing 
West. 

NaPoWriMo #22 – I feel like an adult when

NaPoWriMo 2019

Hello everyone! Before we get into the poem I’d like to say thank you very much to everyone who has read my poems recently. I’ve seen a spike in my numbers and I am very grateful knowing that people like what I write :). Feel free to say hi in the comments and we can chat! Now, on with the poem…



I feel like an adult when a new washing machine excites me

I feel like an adult when I butter my own toast

I feel like an adult when I somehow manage to get rid of a cold on my own

I feel like an adult when the question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’ scares me instead of excites me

NaPoWriMo #21 – w/o

NaPoWriMo 2019

Sometimes I think of what life would be without you. basically it would be terrible. my world upside down, the tears would fall from the ceiling and choke me. A wet, empty bed. The sheets on the floor, only because I couldn’t be bothered to put them on. No one will be coming here. The uncaged bird flies into the fan and splatters everywhere. Blood falls from the ceiling and chokes me.

NaPoWriMo #20 – Untitled

NaPoWriMo 2019

Untitled

Last week feels like a century ago. I wonder why? I’m not 100 years old and I’m certainly nowhere near it. OK well technically I’m a fifth of the way there, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fifth of the way to death, it means I’m a fifth of the way to something. But the something isn’t death. Something is a lot of things – not just one.