The Muruku Murmurations

In the month of April 2020, Makhluk Seni kicked off #HomegrownMakhlukSenis with 10 days of prompts, mindfulness activities and goals to help us get through the isolation. These flowers have significant memories attached to them as I grew up. I used to dry flowers all the time to make potpourri bouquets to remember these memories. I don't get flowers often and prefer not to be a part of the commercialism of it but it's nice to get them once in a while. Day 6 My Wallflowers Melor dan melati,⠀ Iris and lillies,⠀ Dear Makhluk Seni, w e ask you: If you could assign 3 flowers to your loved ones, what are they, and who do they belong to? #quarantineinitiative #grassroots #PACT2020 #NAPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 Babies breath dries well in the sun, they remain delicate and dainty, They stay as long as they aren't disturbed These are the ones who have remained for as long as they have. I've grown a fondness to Orchids, Exotic and unique, Flowers none the less though they live in a d

In the month of April 2020, Makhluk Seni kicked off #HomegrownMakhlukSenis with 10 days of prompts, mindfulness activities and goals to help us get through the isolation. Even after being back in Kuala Lumpur for 7 years, it's been a very nomadic season for me, not being able to let roots develop. This city was where I grew up in and made a home but it still feels like I am meant to be somewhere else. Day 3 Me, a tree Yesterday our feet became roots,⠀ Today, we turned into trees!⠀ Dear Makhluk Seni, ⠀ We ask you: If my body is a tree, what would be inside? #quarantineinitiative #grassroots #PACT2020 #NAPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 Most days, I feel like weeds, flowering in the meadows and sidewalks. I am there when I can be, when the circumstances permit and there is space for me to inhabit.  Other times, once my season has passed, I wither and find a new place. Incapable of growing deep roots, removed when I am not wanted, Unsure of how long I can live in these cracks. When I find myse

I was having a mental dip that week and had trouble looking in the mirror. I kept seeing the scars left by my past and the face of my father. I had trouble processing my thought and wanted to write a letter to my father but it turned into a poem.   Papa.   I have never called him that. I learned to call him 'Daddy' from when I could understand the context of it I called him that and always will I learned the word 'father' A male parent who is the breadwinner Who puts food on the table The family's leader.   I wondered why different people called their fathers differently Appa, Bapa, Ayah, Papa, Oтец, Dad, Father I learned that father is a noun Daddy is a proper noun, A name by which a familiar child can call a familiar father An endearment used at home where it was safe and comforting.   Later on I came to understand more context A father is a strong figure, a masculine influence, an example of adulthood Some grew up never knowing their fathers Some grew up losing t

I met up with Phil Wilcox during my trip to Sydney. He is a wonderful poet-story teller who never ceases to amaze me with his work and life. A humble, gentle soul who sees the world in wonder. It was a great afternoon of random conversations and the beautiful state library in Sydney.   Sunshine through unfiltered thoughts, Breaking fast in conversations and back yard lots Doves carry our dreams across bright turquoise skies, Rounded Gnocchi and flat whites fly around saucers and panels, Finding courage in different lights Settling in exploration of challenging truths of the mind Fuelling growth and nurturing us out of uncertainty while warming our hearts with library pages and flannel.   - Swit Marie 2030H 31st May 2019 Firefly from Sydney