The Deep Diver

Don’t you love it
that Spotify tells you
what kind of a music listener
you are
based on a year of play history?

AI pays me undivided attention
all hours of my life.
Aren’t they lovely?

Am I convinced that
what they define me
is true to myself?
Music is boundless
to my listening ears;
Appreciation to music
is also without hindrances.

Quiet Time

This weekend has been planned out to be a busy one with cooking, travelling and loads people contact. However with some magic shuffle, I ended up with a window of quiet evening. I attempted to finish reading a book I was half way through but couldn’t pick it up. Then I attempted to write a poem or two and felt uninspired. The next thing was watching a movie on Netflix but nothing looked interesting. There was a sense of unsettling for me. I felt I needed to sit with my feelings to untangle them. So I sat and played music softly in the background.

I am always grateful for what music gives me when I am exhausted with giving or run out of inspiration. Besides the nature, music is my second go to place for quiet time. I feel that through music, I am able to relate my own feelings to the artist. It is more like the artist reaches me through their music and lyrics. They help me identify my own feelings and emotions. Then what was trapped in my head has an outlet to express. For me, it is usually through writing.

Sitting with my own feelings is never an easy thing to do. With music though, I feel I have a guide and I am never alone.


Crooked spikes of the rustic iron gate licking the hellfire sky

Luring sound of the cello playing softly to whisper promise of happy memories and haunting stories

His footsteps on the garden path pebbles are giving away kernels of excitement

Restraint by the French windows, he swallows at the view of her untarnished body wrapping around the maple cello

She exhibits as the most porcelain icy celestial body on the Kuiper belt

The divine tone of cello is escalating from mellow to vibrant, lustrous to transcendental to dark

The forbidden pleasure shoots through his legs, groin, abdomen to his heart forming a lump in his Adam’s apple

He dares not let out the primal cry, not even a low groan to disturb the masterful performance

The vibration slapping his core in ebbs and flows

His rhythmic breathing orchestrates harmoniously with the evocative cello melody to reach the pinnacle of perfection

When the silence finally falls and the music gives in to exhaustion, their eyes meet, locked in a fulfilling gaze

The miracles of love

let’s look up to the sky
to count the miracles of love
before the meteor shower

how love made us

soared among the avalanche
swam in a whirlpool of clouds

poured out composition of
distinctive colour contrasts
from a desolate interior
created masterpieces that
transcend emotions and impact
with buzzing noises

smiled brightly in monochromatic suffering
wept deeply for the oppressed in our triumph

love is boundless
even the shooting stars are
no match for her


They are bloggers
tapping their life on two screens
from the initial collision
progressing to sleep deprived nights
filled with wonders and laughter

The courtship
fueled them with creativity
Great art works
splashed on a starlight canvas
with primal hues and mystic tones
sprayed with rusted shades
perfected with mastery final tints

When the exhausion set in
they lamented in clarinet and cello duet
until the sun came up on a new day
to conclude the burial

Greif lingered like autumn rain
until the sun peeked out to
strike a rainbow over the sky
sending out a sumliminal message of hope

Their love affair made them
painters and musicians
but foremost Poets

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