Poetry

Observations, imaginations and yearnings rooted in ecology, nature conservation, forests and abstract ideas.

Waiting Rooms.

I've been through so many of these rooms in so many years of my existence.

Hiding

I roll my tongue and hide it inside the cave of my mouth.

A box full of wonderful wishes

An old charcoal pencil, a polaroid picture and a pair of neon horn-rimmed glasses.

A month of shadows

I slacked and moped around, whined about being creatively blocked, and emotionally drained. June was a month of shadows.

What I like to think about during a pandemic

A warm day. Lavender titling itself to the rays of the sun. Bicycle rides. Wind passing through the strands of my hair. Grey woven shoes.

Words' Worth

Last month, I received a rejection letter from a renowned literary magazine, which sounded more like an empathetic enquiry of my well-being and less like a rejection letter.