The Muruku Murmurations

In October this year, I am back to where I started. Processing a painful end of another failed relationship, having another bout of insomnia and broken by some incidences that happened in September. This all feels familiar like the creaking of doors and floorboards. Brokenness beyond ability to restore, Gears that do not work any more Creaking croaks that yell in a high pitch roar Nothing will ever sound normal like before. - Swit Marie 0621H 25th August 2019 #MurukuMurmurations

#NaPoWriMo2018  #Day15  prompt by  Poetry Cafe KL #NaPoWriMo #halfwaythere #15daystogo #magicsquare #LoShu #turtle #fengshui #astrology Magic squares have been used as talismans for centuries to ward off evil or envy and to call in abundance and luck. They have acquired magical or mythical significance, and have appeared as symbols in works of art. If a poem could be a magic square, what would it look like? Write a poem by numbers coded with magic and power. I turn Thirty For this year. It has been Eleven years since I first started my medical journey. UnFortunately having to deal with Three mental illnesses. I was stuck in a department that played Dirty with everyOne. Fighting for procedure with Twenty Two others. Dirty Fights, zero wins and lots of scars. Like when Twins Terribly Treat each other, Swiftly Finding ways to get attention but on other days, the Tension vanishes like magic and all is squared away. 34 11 43 31 22 35 23 55 10 - Swi...

This piece was written when I was having one of my post-traumatic episodes and my mind was flooded with fear and anxiety. This is the side of medicine that most of you do not see and what makes or breaks a person. I dedicate this piece to all those in the medical profession who have lost their lives and soul in the line of battle to save someone else's life. For National Doctor's Day tomorrow and Mental Health Awareness Month Mr. ABC is a 45 year old gentleman with underlying co-morbids. Admitted for a coronary related disease because of his non-compliance to his diet of reduced lipids. Erm... Yes... No... I mean I don't know… But… Because... What? The... I… So… So... So What?! FBC, RP, LFT, VBG, Trop-T, FSL, FBS, ABG, Only 10cc! How is that enough?! Take 20cc can’t get, poke the ARTERY! Why so slow? What's wrong with you? That also you don't know? Comments and shouts smack repeated to the back of my head. Smack... smack... smack... smack... smack... sma...

The one thing I value most about my work is the lives of my patients. Nothing pains me more than when I see someone's life disappear in a blink of an eye and the family realising the indefinite loss of their loved ones. Rangka tingkap bergetar-getar dengan Gelombang-gelombang Suara orang ramai Berkumpul-kumpul Bertanya-tanya Bila masanya akan sampai. Nyanyian irama masa silam Lampu diatasnya semakin menggelap Lantai dibawahnya semakin sejuk. Sakit tenat dari senja sampai subur Bukan sekadar kurang selesa. Mungkin hayat yang sudah tiba masa Salin baju sendiri tidaknya mampu Putar belit kata-katanya Nyaris terjatuh tercekik selimut, Orang dikelilingnya gelisah menunggu. Tidurnya tidak nyenyak dan lena, Sejak mulanya penyakit ini. Terbangun setiap jam Mimpi-mimpinya yang semua ngeri. Jirannya menjerit-jerit, Nampak darahnya menitis dari dahi sampai kaki. Di depan muka memandang wanita Yang muda lagi umurnya, Muda lagi anak-anaknya, Nampak muka...

It’s #NaPoWriMo Prompt Challenge , and writing poems isn’t easy! So let’s give ourselves a break with a simple prompt today. Poets have been writing about flowers since, oh, the dawn of time. So today, I challenge you to add your own poem to this long tradition, by finding a flower, and versifying in its honor . I always wanted to write a poem about my favourite flower, the Fuchsia. For the record, this prompt was not easy! Found in the 1600s, Undying beauty was still in discovery, Captivated the eyes of travellers, Hispanic flavour and tropical splendor, Strong contrast of unknown combinations, Incapable of recording it's coloured nature, A scientist's fascination and curiosity. Fixated in dual colours commonly, Under cooling shades of overgrown trees, Colours so vibrant and exuberant, Hummingbirds were your favourite visitors, Symmetrical perfection is your pride, In a teardrop manner keeping a modest bloom, A flower within a flower, Flowering in a...

NaPoWriMo Challenge Prompt Week 3: Last week, we wrote portraits of families. Today, let’s turn our vision outward, and write fan letters. I challenge you to write a poem in the form of a fan letter to a celebrity. Now, this could be a celebrity from long ago, and needn’t be an actor or singer (though it could be). You could write to George Washington or Dorothy Dandridge , Marie Curie or The Weeknd . Dear Hippocrates, I applaud you for your ideals, For the principles you uphold, How in your service you keep it real, To have virtues solid as gold. You swore an oath, so did I, You to the gods and mine to the people, To the best of my ability judgement till I die, This covenant to serve and be reliable. By the steps of the infamous geniuses before me, I walk their paved path by their knowledge, In no way selfish to share what they have taught me, Learning never stops at any age. Truthfully, every day is walking through landmines, To balance when ...

Both in a literal and metaphorical sense of the phrase. This comes from watching too much ' Rizzoli and Isles ' . Good stuff but maybe not right before bed. Please tell me she didn't, Say it isn't so, It's a question of she wouldn't, Say no to this John Doe. A tear jerker moment, Seeps in to the silence, Leave behind remnants, Inexistent romance. Trail away in disappointment, Slowly dying inside, Inches of resentment, In his heart resides. Point blank range, She pulls the release, The trigger set before that mange, Just don't do it please. Her heart races, His beady eye glances, She turns away and paces, He still had a chance. She turns around, Shoots him down, In an alley underground, In the darkest part of town. She inhales the fresh kill, Reality suddenly hits, She stands still, And laughs in cynical wit. - SY 18:40H 22nd March 2016 Jalan 222 SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades...

Different people react to rejection differently, some worse than others. Cringe and twitch, With every syllable, That fills the empty airwaves, With words so detestable. Your disapproval, Of my incompetence, Exudes in your voice tones, Embedding into my remembrance. The very cells of my brittle bones, Hollow out to disintegrate, Faster than the osteoblasts, Are able regenerate. The tissues of my cartilages, Melt and deconstruct, At the use of your words Targeted with misconduct. Deep within underneath my skin, Tingling laced with anxiety, Rigor infused with fear, Holding on very briefly. Soon nothing is left, But a bare frame, Broken and without form, Never the same. - SY 18:20H 7th March 2016 Jalan Pahang SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids. She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfills the promises that she made. She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times wh...

I meet strangers on a daily basis, and at the end of the hour I would have gotten to know them way more than anyone should. It goes a little bit like this... Dear Stranger, Let me introduce myself, As I pull your records from the shelf, Oh! I see it is your first time here, I need to ask you some questions, just to be clear. What is your full name? Is the address stated here still the same? Who do you stay with? Do you take the stairs of lift? Do tell me about your occupation, And about the conditions of where you are stationed, Do you eat out frequently, Or cook at home diligently. Tell me about you family, Any illnesses or malignancy? I'm going to invade your privacy, I have to ask about your social history. Do you like to experiment? Indulge in things that enhance entertainment? Have you recently gone out of bounds, Yes, I do need to know your sexual background. Now on to what has made to unwell, Please tell me when did this first swe...

This may be my last day in Internal Medicine, still nothing yet is for certain, just like what happens when we closed the curtains, which may be for many different reasons. This happens on an almost daily basis, I guess it is about time I wrote something of it. Behind closed curtains, Unsure is what's within, Nothing is for certain, Whether it's lose or win. Nobody knows what's happening inside, Nobody knows what you will find, Now, inside know not what is outside, Now, it's left to the playground of the mind. The rustling of the curtains, The orchestra of muffled sounds, Then, you could sense that panic resides, The hearts of the outsiders pound. Tears roll down then cheeks of the undead, Hearing the words of what the team said, One more adrenaline, get ready the dobutamine, C'mon where is the mida-morphine. On the outside more and more gather, The little boy asks,"What is happening to father?" "We don't know ye...