Poem 1: Lune

I lay in my bed,

my chaotic thoughts

swirling around in my head.

I finally thought

I would not

be able to rise. 

Poem: Catapult

I remember meeting
some new people.
people I never knew
were in this world
and were different from me
yet exactly the same.

And we went together
to a large building and
it was in Chicago
for the ten millionth time.
we rode in the elevators
one last time before we
parted forever.

But this time
it was the last time
I would see them again.
and even though
I didn't know them
it was bittersweet
all the same.

The elevators took me
and her
all the way to the top
and catapulted her,
waiting for her
to grab unto the black handlebars.
the ones that prevented her
from falling to her death.

And I couldn't do it.
Not on my own.

Poem: Wanderlust

Do I miss Florida
because I actually miss it?
Or is it just
my constant desire
to see the world
and my constant feeling
of wanderlust?

Do I miss the feeling
of kayaking out in the high ocean?
Or do I miss those nights
spent in the hotel?
Do I miss going on rollercoasters
in the world's most famous theme park?
Or do I miss the boat
going down the Everglades?

Or is it all just because
I can't stay still.
Not in one place for a long time.
And I need to be out
Seeing new places.
Meeting new faces.
And fulfilling my dreams.

Poem: The River

I was in New York
floating down an endless river.
It was a black river
and the blackness was so deep
I couldn't see anything around me.
Except for little yellow lights
Strung up among trees
on the banks of the black, black river.

And you wanted me
to leave and go somewhere
far, far away with you.
And even though
I hated New York, I loved the river,
and I couldn't leave it and go.

Poem: Closer

You were lying in that
dumb hospital bed.
Looking so weak,
so helpless.

And I reached out
to hold you.
And to tell you
that you would
soon get better.

But she was instantly
in my face.
Warning me
to stay away,
don't go near, Maeli!

But I ignored her
because you were
my essence.
And you were
much more important
to me than I was to myself.

Poem: Too Late

Hockey.
One word that can evoke
Two million different emotions
Inside of me.
And that is why
When my dad told me to take
My two younger sisters
To a hockey game
I willingly kept back my excitement.

It was a windy day
In Washington, DC,
And we were going to see
The Washington Capitals
Play against another meager team.
I gathered them all up
And took them to the empty garage
Underneath that large building
That was empty.
Where you could hear
The sound of the puck
Banging off the glass
Because there was no one there.

One of my sisters got there.
And I told her to stay and wait
For the rest of us to come.
Then I went back to get
My youngest sister and
My brother.
I kept having to go back
Struggling against the bleak
December weather
And the wind that tore
Past the heavy jacket
That I had put on
Even though I didn’t usually
Wear jackets.

When all of them were finally there,
I went back one last time
Because I wanted to cheer on my team
Wearing team colours.
I would just change
And then I’d be back.
But it wasn’t that simple.
Because I got lost in the garage
And somehow didn’t make my way back
Until all the action was over.
And my hockey-loving heart
Broke into a million pieces.
It isn’t whole yet.
I know I’ll have to wait
Quite a few years
For my heart to slowly mend itself.

Poem: Nonconformity

I love snowy winter days
because the snow comes down
and softly kisses the ground and the trees
I love the rain because it comes down
and gently wipes away the tears of nature.

I love the sound of the wind rustling through the trees,
the feeling of the ocean spray on my face
when it crashes against the rocks,
and the smell of the first day of winter.
I would love to be a park ranger
and explore the places no one has been before,
but I would love to be a mountain climber
and reach heights no one has reached before.

I have achieved none of my dreams
and yet some tell you that I have.
I am usually late
because the world rushes by so fast.
I wish I could go back.
I miss having no responsibilities,
and when my biggest fear
was scraping my knees on the playground.
I envy those who have no past
to look back at and regret.

I regret not showing my grandmother
how much I love her.
I regret lying to my sister
when I told her I would stay quiet.
I would take trust over love
because I could love somebody to my death,
no matter how they have wronged me,
but once you lose my trust it is gone.
It’s so hard for me to tell somebody
the three words ‘I love you.’
and as I face the wall with tears in my eyes,
The hardest thing for me to give up on
is that there is a pinch of good inside
even the evilest person.

I’d go give a homeless person CPR
if they were dying.
because conformity bores me.
I love the lynx because it is an uncommon picture
of majesty and beauty.
I like spicy food because it wakes me up.
My favourite book tells tall tales
of whimsical faeries and a dark faery prince
that scares you but not with enough fear
to make you stay away.

Poem: Forgotten Thoughts

There was something I was thinking about
Right before I went to sleep
Last night.
And I remember it
Because I was thinking
Of a certain thing I needed to say.
I needed to put it in a poem
And describe the inferno
Happening inside.

And I told myself I would write it
Tomorrow morning.
There is no way I can forget it.
But I forgot it.
And now my mind goes on in overdrive
Trying to remember the phrase
That was so important to me.

It had something to do
With grey or white
Or something blank
But it was something I knew vividly
Three dreams
Now turned into two
And one that has
Slipped through the cracks
And run away
From my mind
Into the vast wilderness.

Poem: Chicagoan Elevators

Sometimes there are dreams
Where the plot is forgotten
And insignificant details are remembered.
Like that dream
Where there were elevators in Chicago,
Elevators that were broken down
Elevators that took me to new heights,
In a hotel
Where I could see through the glass
of the elevator I stood in.

Except it wasn’t glass.
It was like shredded cardboard.
And it was creaking
under my heavy weight.
And the shrieking noise it made
Pulled the demons I had inside of me
To the surface.
I couldn’t remember what I was doing.
Or what the purpose of my existence was.
It was like I was swimming in a sea
Of seventy shades of forgetfulness.

But all I knew of the world around me
Was that among all the drab offices,
And whitewashed walls,
And different people,
I had forgotten something.
And the elevators frightened me.
And my mouth told lies.

And I went up and down
trying to find my mission.
But all I found
were the faces of the forgotten.
Maybe one or two that I knew.
But I was lost in this giant world
Where I knew no one
And but few knew me.

I had a mission
But I forgot what it was.
Passiveness
Became a part of me
Although it was unwanted.
And even though I knew I did something
I didn't know or remember
What it was that happened.

Poem: Changes

I thought it was real
But no it couldn’t be
Because I was living
With the she-devil
And one day I was playing cards
And she was in her bedroom
Talking on her cell phone
I heard words that cut into me
Deep cuts that couldn't be healed.
And when she came out
Everything was normal again
Except for that I knew
What she had said about me.
She thought I didn’t try hard enough.
But I tried my best
And I invited my friend over
And she helped me get better.
My cell phone was in my pocket
Because I called my best friend
To tell her of each day
And how I wanted out.

I got my break.
Me and my girl
We could go help out
In a war-torn country.
They landed us in a dusty street,
Flashes of light going off.
And we ran our hearts out
Trying to get away from the blasts
That kept going off
In orange lights
And flames in the distance.
Pushing the dust up
And stinging my eyes.

We ran across the street
I grasped her hand tightly
Trying not to get torn away
But she was faster than me.
And I was left trying to cross
The street.
But the wind was blowing me back
And I couldn’t run across
I wondered why my legs weren’t working.
And my panic kept rising
As I kept trying to run faster
Across the street
Clogged with cars.

And my cell phone,
Still in my back pocket
Ready for me to call home
Was taken by a man
His eyes full of fear
Full of grief and sorrow.
I was upset because I couldn’t call my
Best friend to let her know.

When we got back home
We waited in the nearby park
Waiting for anyone to show up.
And my best friend opened her door
When she saw that we were back.
We went in
And we reflected on our trip.
It hurt to remember
The words that the she-devil had said
About me that night in the bedroom.
And I wished I would have amnesia.
But I told my best friend
About all my worries.
And then she told me
That I could move in with her.

Poem: Nighttime Nostalgia

1.

Days go by and

the seasons change

from morning dew

on the wet green grass,

and baby animals

emerging fresh anew

into the world

in spring,

to tiny grains of sand

running through my fingers

and the waves lapping up

on the sandy shores

in summer,

to bright leaves falling

from the trees to the ground

and catching a whiff

of that sweet pumpkin pie

in autumn,

to cold wet snowballs

stinging my nose

and the biting wind

rushing past my red cheeks

in winter.

2.
And I realize that
I am only getting older.
Every moment
that passes
is one lost and
will never be regained.
Moments that flew by
ones that live
only in memories now.
I remember them with
fondness but also with
a sense of longing
and melancholy
because I know that
they are forever gone.

3.
Memories of a cherished home,
and a nurturing family,
of smiles upon faces,
of laughter and birdsong.
Memories of hugs and kisses,
of flying with the wind,
of taking walks
while will-o'-the-wisps
gently guide me
along the pathway.
Memories of running in the woods
with not a care in the world,
of sweet cakes and ice cream
of words unsaid yet known.
Memories of love and joy,
of sadness and sorrow
and a strength unknown
fueled by those beside me.
Ones that I will never reclaim,
but ones I remember fondly
because all through them
something remained the same.
It was my sense of belonging
and my light heart
happy because I belonged
happy because you were with me.

4.
I must say I'm sorry
for eating all the cake
the day you made it
I must say I'm sorry
for not extending my hand
towards you when
you needed it most
I'm sorry for everything
that I've given you back
for your kindness.
I'm sorry for everything
I didn't say.
I'm sorry you left me
and I never told you
how much you meant to me,
because now as I grow older
it weighs down upon my mind
how I never told you
what I wished you could've known
now I'll never have the chance
to hold you once again
to see you one more time
and tell you how much I love you
I wish I could go back
to a time that now is frozen.

Poem: Hallucination

My forehead burned red hot
My fever was getting worse
But my hope was rekindled
When I looked up and saw you
At my French doors.

You strode inside with grace
Your long white gown trailing behind you
It was almost as if you were floating
Like an angel just walked into my room
I couldn't believe my teary eyes.

You were here, to my disbelief
I cried tears of joy and shook with delight

You were finally here
After I longed for you so desperately
I couldn't help but get up
Rush to you and encase you in my arms
Beg you to stay forever

When I rushed up, I fell down
Hitting my head, and when I woke up
You were gone without a trace
I was shaking. I took out the rope
and fit it neatly around my neck

I hung myself. Maybe when my fever quells
All this would have been a hallucination.

I stepped off the chair
Maybe I was truly dead
But what I saw in front of my eyes
Told me otherwise
I saw a running river.

I saw a cottage surrounded
With exotic flowers
It was a dream come true
I was in paradise
Where I had wanted to be, with you.

But you were nowhere to be found.
I know that I am either dead or hallucinating.

This poem was originally published on 8 April 2016. 
As always, I would love hearing from you! Leave a comment telling me what you thought of me poem. 

Poem: Misunderstood

Sorry

Sorry for my harshness 

Because I am unable 

To express myself 

In any other way. 

You blame me 

You say I do not 

Light up my face 

With a blissful 

Smile. 

You never looked deep into me

Because you don't realise that 

I have pains. 

But so does everyone.

Because I also have 

My happinesses. 

Maybe 

Only my true friends 

See me. 

Truly. 

You hurt me

I had no one to help 

I went somewhere else 

Turned to someone else 

Got the comfort 

I wanted all along. 

This poem was originally published on 17 December 2015. 

I would love to hear your thoughts! Leave me a comment below. 

Poem: Regina

Regina

Large and frightening
it reminds me

of a space,
gold stretching
as far as the eye can see.

Tangled spiderwebs
that do not break.
Loneliness

not just a feeling,
yet a combination
of many.

A strong mind
lamenting
what has been done.

Destined
for blank space,
it always is.

It goes up

in flames,
which light the night.

A small space
from which
an epiphany grew.

Blank spaces ask
unanswered questions.
Ice cannot be cold

nor is it warm either.
While sourness and bitterness
cease to conflict,

an epiphany arises
from the black darkness.
While a tree

laments its lonely past,
a dark black space holds
potential.

Feel free to leave a comment telling me how you interpreted my poem or if anything stood out for you. I love knowing my readers thoughts! 
This poem was originally published in November 2015. 

Why I Am a Writer

There is so much that can be said about being a writer. The beauty of it is immense, and yet the pain of it, the pain of translating what is thought in one’s mind onto paper is also immense. But the best feeling of it all is finally looking at that paper, full of words, knowing you created a whole new world. As George Orwell stated: “When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.” That is the reason many of us write, and, specifically, the reason I write.

Sometimes, I see an injustice occurring, and I can’t help but be angered. Why? There are so many things happening in the world around me that I do not understand. Why must we trample over others to get to our own success? Why must we have the feelings of jealousy towards others? It is these “whys,” and my curiosity towards the world around me in general, that propel me to write. I write to express my thoughts and opinions on a subject. I write to create new worlds, new characters, people I’d love to meet in real life. I write to entertain myself, to create a utopia I wish was real.

I wish to be able to write the words that make someone’s day, the words that someone will say, “because of her, I didn’t give up.” I wish to educate the world about how everyone is different, yet we’re all still the same. I wish I could shout, throw out my words to all the oppressors to hear my voice, to hear my cry of “this is unfair.” I wish I could comfort all the oppressed with “everything will be okay.” I wish I could end all the world’s inequalities, because everyone who has written knows this to be true: “words are more powerful than bullets will ever be.”

If this inspired you or something stood out, feel free to contact me in the comments.