The Muruku Murmurations

This morning I realised that the most valuable gifts that I had received last year were not material things. A gift, a token or an offering, Given to a person free of charge, In return the giver expects nothing, It may be small or large. Do not be so taken by pretty things, Like shallow girls with expensive diamond rings, Where the measure of a good gift is by it's price, An excuse for materialism and consumerism to invade like lice. It may not only be physical, Many times, it's cost not gradable, Without an expiry, almost immortal, Like the gift of life which is most noble. It could be guidance to the lost, A stepping stone or direction we can endorse, Emotional support for the weak, A place of solitude and peace for those who seek. There really is nothing wrong with presents, But look beyond the ribbons and gift wrappers, The best gift could instead be someone's presence, Their time and effort as to keys to Mini Coopers. A voice, a

So this is based on a song from the the movie Dilwale called Daayre. Daayre actually means limitations or boundaries. Most of the time we let boundaries stop us from doing what we want.  Why do we let the ones we loves slip away? Daayre Why do we choose to give up and decide not to stay?   Daayre   Daayre,                                   The walls we build so the ones we love cannot get close, Even though they're the ones we love the most, We let the boundaries and limitations get in the way.   Daayre The thoughts we have inside our head, And the words we will never say,   So we choose to walk away instead.   Daayre,   When you're alive but not living, Because the limitations and boundaries are winning, And it keeps you from living life your way.       - JN 10.00am, 24/2/2016 (Wednesday) Home, Kelana Jaya

If there is one thing I have yet to figure out, it is how to stop loving someone completely. We wanted to be in each other's lives after breaking up, but I loved him when I knew I shouldn't. As time passed, I learnt to change my love him. This was written the day I let go the last bit of "relationship" love I had for him. We've both moved on and I still love him, but now, he's one of the greatest friends I have. :) If she says she loves you but you don’t love her, don’t tell her just yet. Let her sit in the silence with you, shuffling in the awkwardness, before she allows all that she feels for you to radiate from her skin and occupy the air around you. Let her try and justify why she loves you, though you both know that there’s no answer. Let her face light up as she remembers how the second freckle on your right cheek scrunched into a wrinkle on your face when you laughed while she told you about the time she fell into the drain in front of schoo

For everyone who doesn't believe in poetry, and that the world doesn't need poets.  You say "we don't need poets". That poetry is the whining a poet does in stanzas & rhyme, That reading & reciting poetry is a waste of time, That's fine - thankfully for you we poets are kind, Even though with us all sorts of faults you find. "They're just a bunch of emotional people" you claim, "Look closely & you'll realize their problems are all the same", Always the same script with different character names, You think writing poetry is a toddler's game. "Look at these attention seeking people writing about their problems, Milking the fact that they've hit rock bottom, Then regurgitating them expecting people to snap & say 'YOU WERE AWESOME', Just so that they can feel like they have blossomed." "The world does not need poetry! It's all a bunch of crap! Poetry is garbage &

This letter is dedicated to my Malay Language tuition teacher who taught me about living life. He is a retired staff of the Ministry of Education who travelled the world and taught many along the way. Dear Mr Wong, I hope this finds you well, It has been a long time, I can tell, Since I last spoke to you, Since I last bid adieu. A few months and decade went by, Centuries worth of drive-bys, I never understood my hesitance, Why I frequently avoid your audience. You were my weekly motivation, Kept me with mind-stirring conversation, Polish the sentences of my Malay essays, Made me articulate my ideas without going astray. I owe you my endless gratitude, For humbling me in my altitude, Correcting my narrow minded attitude, As well as increasing my aptitude. Forgive me for not coming to see you sooner, For not thanking you when it mattered, You are still jovial, kind and kindred, I wish you well and may you reach one hundred. Sincerely, A Gr

I've always been bad at keeping in touch or even starting conversations. So, to the people I don't talk to as much as I like to, this one is for you. If you're reading this and are friends with me, You know how difficult that can be, If you've only met me a couple of times, I promise you I'm not quiet all the time. So this is for all of you, The ones I don't talk to as often as I'd like to,             It's not that I don't like talking to you, It's just that I don't know how to. I've always been bad at conversations starters, My mind either goes blank or I stutter, I also am bad at keeping the conversation going, And that's always been a curse not a blessing. So this one is for all of you, I'm working on this curse of mine, I'd like to say I'm sorry too, And I hope we can catch up sometime.       - JN 9.00am, 22/2/2016 (Tuesday) Home, Kelana Jaya

#TheGhettoSiblings used to be really close. I forgot how close until Facebook's On This Day flashbacks kept showing me all these wall posts my brother Rosal used to post on my wall. Between his auditing job & my production managing, we barely spend time with each other let alone speak, but whenever we do meet, it's great & I'll always love him for getting me through so many things in the past 6 years. So here's another letter to the best Abang ever.  I’ve recently seen how often we used to speak, You and me, How time was relative and I was so meek, How we used to be. I read old wall posts, When you first became my brother, How you’d ask me why I was sad, And how I was never a bother. It feels like a different lifetime, We were so closely knit, There were no large obligations, And no small fits. Now your Facebook presence is scarce, And my phone no longer rings that specific tone, Our relationship now compared to then is such a farce, We mig

This was written from an ex's perspective. So guys, if you feel like you want to shoot him down, please do. And ladies, if you just let this kind of thing slide, shoot and move on with your life. I made you believe this will last forever, I will never make you feel inferior, I will be with you through every endeavour, But heck with that, I'll disappear. I questioned your commitment, I questioned your judgement, Why do you have resentment. You know what I say?  You are a disappointment. I said I would be by your side, I will be there for you to confide, There will never be a divide, You are too much for me, I'll go away and hide. I took your hand and held you, I told you my affections are entirely true, I gave you no reason to deny me, 3 years, 2 months and a day later, please leave me be. I broke down your wall, I picked you up from your great fall, I somehow managed to undo all that, And for that I will be a walking target. -

For my cousin who passed away suddenly on 13th January 2016. We'll always miss you.  I found out you had a fall, And then I had gotten a call, That call was from my mother, telling me you had passed away, It's still hard for me to believe, even until today. There was laughter at your wake, To hide the heartache, But we all felt that gaping hole in our heart where you used to be, It's like there is a missing piece. You have left an impact on everybody, Be it friends or family. We all miss your presence, And your jokes, witty comments, and what we call nonsense. It's been a month since we said goodbye, But I will not cry, Because I know you're in a better place, And I'll see you when I finish this race.      - JN 10.00am, 13/2/2016 (Saturday) Home, Kelana Jaya

I love dance. This piece, inspired by a wonderful, energetic night on the dance floor, is a litany of all the things I would love to do or say to the perfect dance partner - someday (or maybe never, depending.)   If there is one thing you would like to do, but haven’t yet done, what is it? —Clarissa Pinkola Estes I would turn the music on Set Ella’s voice drifting through the air Singing of love, of loss, of dreams Singing of blues and life And I would take your hands and ask May I have this dance And lead you to the floor I would consciously forget All the things that seem so important In daylight hours: My looks, this shyness, my fears That somehow I won’t measure up To what you want And let the music speak Through our arms A touch and I follow Rhythm translated Into movement I want to lean into you Inhale these shared minutes Let them sink, like words Into the body Let you read them in my eyes Vocabulary that only dancers share Secrets only partners

Sometimes, it only just takes a moment, before all your defences fall apart and you know you're done for.  It was over the moment he smiled at you. He liked telling you jokes, and they weren't very good. But when his face stretched out into that wide beam akin to sunshine, and he threw his head back in laughter, you were done for. Mesmerized you kept watching, another joke, another chuckle, and you smiled in spite of yourself because he was too beautiful to be real or to be yours. He smiled at you, eyes locked to yours. Game over. He had won, without even getting in the game. And you were defeated, the minute he leaned in and whispered your name. - SB 6.01pm, 9th December 2015 C Michaels, Bangsar

So, it was St. Valentine's Day yesterday. This year, for me was 'Singles Awareness Day'. Most days of my youth were spent having someone there who was my go-to-companion . I never really spent a long enough period being single. This was the first thing I started to miss. Yet another night, Lying alone in bed, Nothing but repetitive thoughts, On replay in my head. Nothing compares to his chest, The warmth of his embrace, Unlike the pillows I use to rest, On his firm pectorals I laid my face. The comforter all to myself, Just that piece of lifeless fabric, No jolt of chemical electricity, Only the feeling of cold static. No strokes to line my crown, To caress my forehead and nape, No fingers that venture up and down, To find that soft spot to escape. Now the air in the room is stale, I was so used to the scent of you, My every breath had your trail, It matched the smell of my eau . The white noise that fills my ears, Were your rhythmic

So, since valentines day is this Sunday, it's only right that the hopeless romantic writes a mushy love poem, right? Here's to the on screen couple I ship the most. The show may be over, but Naley is always and forever.  The way they met was anything but cliche, His motive was to get revenge, Hers was so he'd lay off her friend, But they fell in love along the way. They dated for a few months then decided to tie the knot, Despite everyone saying that they should not, People told them they were moving too fast, But they knew they were going to last. She'd never wanted anything more, Than to spend her life with someone she adored, Her heart had never been more sure, With him she couldn't wait to explore the unexplored. Despite how they met, he had always known, This girl was special and would be his backbone, He'd never been sure about anything in his life, Except the fact that he wanted her to be his wife, As she walked down the isle, He co

It was a tough time getting over an on-and-off "dating"-ish thing, especially because it was a LDR and I felt defeated when I could not control anything. So this was written in place of sending him a "I wish you were here" text, which I am thankful I didn't send. I imagined this. I imagined bodies plaited with sheets, with no beginning and end. I imagined lying on your chest, hearing your heart beating in sync with mine. I imagined tracing the creases of your body with the tips of my fingers. I imagined being woken up by your ticking warm breath as it gently blew tiny strands of my hair on my face. I imagined the smell of your cologne as I snuggled deeper into your neck for warmth. I imagined looking up and kissing your scruffy beard, while you remain in deep sleep. I imagined the smile on your face when you woke up, blinking repeatedly with squinted eyes, like it was a dream. I imagined getting out of bed, only to be pulled back into the sheets, int

I wanted to write a Chinese New Year themed poem, and I began reminiscing the simpler CNYs I used to have back in my hometown of Sitiawan, Perak where my mother is from. It really hit me while writing this piece how much I missed the CNYs of old. Red lanterns, Hung up high, At 130 Taman Hijau, All the way past July. Sparklers, With cousins who have different last names, Then fire crackers & rocket bombs, We were cautioned throwing pop pops at each other's feet was not a game. Steamed chicken, Made by Por Por & served at the round table, Grandchildren fighting for the drumstick, Risking a stern smack with a ladle. Mahjong, The "only for adults" game, Four people chong-ing away, Some getting two pieces the same. Sisters, Gathered in the familial master bedroom, Sprawled over each other gossiping, About husbands, children & prospects that loom. No more, The festive feel of this holiday. Replaced by rest

Love and poetry is a must for every hopeless romantic. Dedicated to all the poets looking for love. When I meet you for the first time, My mind starts to think of a rhyme, Hoping our thoughts link up the same, As we play the 'Let's Get to Know You' game. Would we flow gracefully like a sonnet? Where the AA's and BB's fall into place every time we met? Do our words jump around like a limerick? So corny and cheesy that it sticks. Would your thoughts resound like spoken word? Filled with passion and free like the birds, Strong like a warrior and clear a day, About the opinions that you might say. Knowing you is like staring at a blank page, Writing stanza by stanza according to it's stage, Thoughts of you are free to flow, But at times the writing does come slow. You have full excess to my thoughts, A key that could only be entrusted and not bought, A library of emotions, concepts and memories, Abundant like coffee stains on pape

So, this piece was inspired by a song called Aftermath by Rascal Flatts. This talks about the aftermath of a breakup in all it's ugliness and brokenness.  The way you said goodbye, It was like we weren't even worth a try, You left without a second glance, Like I didn't deserve a chance. How was I to know you would break me down so easily, And tear me apart so quickly, I guess I believed in our future more than you, Or else you would not have said "We're through." All that's left of me is me and my jealousy, Along with the 'what could have beens' and the 'maybes,' You told me I should just move on, And just like that you were gone. The words you said can't be taken back, It's too late for that, Because now I feel the aftermath of a fragile cracked love, That you let go of. It feels like gravel to skin, The hurt has set in, Now all that's left of my heart are pieces and parts, And you walk away thinking it

Every independent, single woman has an epiphany at some point in her life, I suspect. Mine came just out of university, when I realised that despite being academically in the top five percent of my class,  I'd been letting men I loved tell me (subtly or otherwise) that I was really a very stupid woman who couldn't be trusted with things of intellect. Now, many years down the line, this is the inspiration for 'Chess' - which happens to be the day I learned that the Queen is the most powerful piece in the game. After that, the poem almost wrote itself, really. This is my tribute to every woman who's been informed that she's less important than a man, less intelligent, and worth far less. Because that's bullshit, and deserves to be called for what it is. Once upon a time A man I loved told me: This role-playing game system Is too complicated for you. You wouldn’t know the rules. You don’t know how to plan Warcraft strategy. Here, I’ll play, you can’t

Dedicated to a wonderful, brilliant & intelligent young woman I met at Blues socials a couple of months ago, who has quickly become a good friend. Keep marching to your own beat, because you're beautiful & doing so damn good at it.  She spins & you feel the heat, Emitting from the twirl of her skirt, One look & she's already got you beat, But she knows what it feels like to be hurt. She smiles as she sits sipping her drink, Swaying her hips lightly to the tune of the song, The song escalates & takes her to the brink, It is only a moment but it feels long. She doesn't play coy, no - she's too confident, It shows by the flames she produces on the dance floor, She can keep flow of conversation constant, Every word proving she's anything but a bore. So you watch as the spit fire dances in circles & squares, Abandoning her past wears & tears, She's illuminated with a fire from within her, And as lon

Some things never chance and when it is too late, we are always filled with regret. For now, while there is still time left, I may not get a second chance but I can do it right from now on. Dear Mdm. Tang, The last of your generation, A pioneer of our blood line, One of the firsts to reach this nation, Along with the labourers of tin mines. How my lineage from you started, Still remains a mystery, Since your memories have now parted, It shall forever be just history. You lived decade after decade, Across the many struggles you survived, With just a door as your barricade, Away from the Japanese you stayed alive. Your mind as sharp as a laser, Tongue as spiteful as the devil, You were never a people pleaser, Your words felt like falling into an ant hill. Days of your life weren't always misery, Generally your children treated you well, Why is it only bitterness you see? Far away from grace is where you fell. Your outlook is mostly grey, E

All someone needs is a second chance to make things right.  A second chance is what I would give to you, In hopes that we can start anew, Maybe forget about the past, And make some new memories that will last. We were always close, Then things happened and we drifted apart, It's time we restart, And see where this goes. No matter what, you will always be a part of me, And that's how it's always going to be. Maybe we'll get to rewrite history, I guess we'll just have to wait and see. - JN 10.00am, 2/2/2016 (Tuesday) Home, Kelana Jaya

Sometimes it isn't about giving a person a second chance, but about giving the relationship one. It is not you. You're absolutely fine, You don't need this, And frankly you're better off. It is not me. I am too much all the time, Too gritty & way out there, And better off alone. But you know what deserves a second chance? Us. We deserve a chance to see it through, Do the things we said we were going to do. Make those trips & seal those vows, Save up money & build a home out of a house. We deserve to try it without everyone's opinion in mind, Even if they meant well or were trying to be kind. We deserve a shot, just the two of us, No outside factors causing a fuss. We deserve to forgive & to let love heal all wounds, To woo each other again & make each other swoon. We deserve to reinforce our faith & maybe with a little luck, We'll keep moving forward together as opposed to be individually stuck. So my love

In all honesty, we both had parted ways long before it was the end. I know you will never understand but I write not with ill intent but as an expression of my heart's content. You would think that it was set for life, Yet there was so much disturbing strife, There is no one to blame but you and me, I should have stayed away and you let me be. You were hopeful and a little too certain, I was numb and probably forgot to mention, Misunderstandings took place even before we started, I reluctantly went for it despite my soul having been disected. Being shallow and hollow, still somewhat alive, Mind unrestfully busy like a beehive, Ignorance was the card I carried to get by, I had nothing to lose and gave it a try. Unconvinced that anything could last forever, Jaded and still far to say I could recover, I wanted it to make it this time around, But it was not meant to be in view of all that went down. It was clear we were both in distaste, Kept holding o