The Muruku Murmurations

I made a recent getaway to Singapore and wanted to spend some time living and exploring. I sought out this place not by chance but by pure attraction to a night of fond memories and a new found haven. Your trip will not be complete until you visit The Other Room . A part of this piece was performed at Rather Spectacular! Showcase led by Scotty Wings . He made all this writing possible and has transformed me with his dedication and work. 'Shadows' was performed with Afi Noir, Jack Malik and Dhinesha. It was a liberating experience courtesy of Spill The Ink Poetry Lab and If Walls Could Talk Here resides the lurking shadows of curiosity Where the unknown meets the wandering soul There is nothing more than finesse and character Carefree and wild is the playful creator. Sitting in the corner where the corners of her smile meets the crow's feet of her eyes Her face caressed by the delicate light that shines from the warm fluorescence Leaving a silhouett...

I tried people watching and caught my eye on an intriguing subject. It was a challenge to stay focused on describing one thing in detail. Thank you #EvilAuntyLia for the exercise. Subtly your feathery eyelashes flutter through the air like air borne dandelion seeds floating as where ever the breeze takes it. The slits in your rich chestnut iris reveals a glimpse of your mysterious soul that you keep concealed from the masses. Clear is your gaze that translates every ounce of thought and emotion that transcends from your mind as it is without hesitation. Crow's feet creases fold from the angles of your eyes during moments of joy that strike your fancy especially when you are taken by surprise and people touch your heart. Rowdy and reckless are your eyebrows, without care, taking any shape it pleases lining your eyes with borders when they stray too far. Your eyes are deeply set like your passion for exploration and always open looking out to every thing tha...

One of our very first official class assignments was to write a poem based on Maya Angelou's poem, ' Caged Bird ' using flowers with the theme of Freedom vs. Oppression. We were given only 30 minutes to write, the poem had to have a similar style and length. One of the lines were used to form a new stanza for the next assignment, it can be found  here . A straight stalk, solely for one; a white, half bloom, considered as perfect. Tucked in a pocket snugged beside stiff lapels of a pitch black blazer. A rose taken, a rose given for a reason. Slight breeze flutters through its subtle petals as the groom scurries down the aisle; a distinct rush of nerves felt by the stalk as it hears a whisper, "Is this my beginning or the end? A posse of roses and baby breaths chatter excitedly, enveloped by pretty lace and wrapped in ribbons to accentuate their colours, In the hand of a young, established lady. A rose taken, a rose given for a reason. Their st...

We were given an assignment in class to write 8 stanzas with 6 lines each in 40 minutes, we had to push ourselves to avoid cliches and our favourite 'go-to' words. One of my favourites thanks to Mama Lia, #evilauntylia ideas are awesome! Theme: The power of self-belief. Happy Labour Day, may the fruit of your labour be worthwhile. Defining and knowing, What is  I -dentity? The entities of your being What makes your reality? Words that come out spewing from the depths of spirit, soul and body. The apothecary off mind street where the 'I am' and 'is to BE ' begins, travels and meets, In the darkness where there is no light to see There is still a sense, pulse and heartbeat that brews in alchemy. Mixture of emotions, Tincture of memories, Shelved trinkets in small portions Wind chimes singing melodies to accompany the mix of concoctions Interactions that LIVE through centuries. The alchemist must create, Select c...

This was written as a challenge from Angelia One from Team Demigods who teaches the Semigods . #feartheredpen During the # SpillTheInk workshop with Scott Sneddon . # 2017inkedwallsday 30 # 2017inkedwallsprompt 30 # spilltheink # napowrimo # npwm   # napowrimo2017 One Two Three Maybe I will let it be... White or blue One line or two It really isn't up to you. All you want is a son My bearing hips Flowering canals I will say when I am done. I am clothed by your pride Your strength wraps my wrist My innocence replaced by your essence Where I lie is your bliss. My loss is your gain Your pleasure is my pain. I am bare As I am green You are blue Under it all, You have not a clue. - Swit Marie 1235H 29th April 2017 Titik Merah Gallery

This was the activity/assignment Scott Sneddon gave the kids for the # SpillTheInk workshop held at the end of # NaPoWriMo. We had to walk around the gallery and write a poem about the artwork. It should reference the artwork and it should also be able to stand alone as a poem. #NPWM #2017inkedwallsday29 #2017inkedwallsprompt29 #NaPoWriMo2017 Beneath the surface Locked away Hidden treasures Rooted here to stay. In the clouds Or underwater? Could it be bulbs Or tubers? Growth restricted Some escapes Floating to where the air goes Or how the water flows. From the start, it is cultivated Submerged in culture Strongly rooted Blossoming with hope. - Swit Marie 1211pm 29th April 2017 Titik Merah Gallery

A big part of our poetry class with Mama Lia (who conducts home school for  Team Demigods ) is self discovery and addressing issues that we are facing in our lives. This piece was written after I had done some reflection on who I want to be as a person when I am alone in the world. Visual: A music box in an empty room Theme: Self The air is cold, damp and still       A solitary bulb dimly illuminates the empty cobweb-laced room       The humble stream of light falls from low-rise plaster ceiling       Softly showcasing the centre of the unpolished pinewood floor.       Dust particles hover in minute, subtle movements Till they settle at the base of       a petite porcelain maiden. She is dressed in tulle and fancy frills       Her torso shimmers with glitter and tiny sequins. Poised in her stance, in attitude she holds       herself gracefully....

This was an interesting one, I tried to use a stronger voice for this piece and have a realistic point of view to express the theme. Thank you Mama Lia for the life lessons and poetic practices. Theme: Do not look at me. Do not look at me... I am not a heroine Neither pure or evil Do not look at me I am not an example for the youth to look up to Do not look at me. I am not a trophy A has-been of yesteryear Purely rusted iron on the inside I am merely gold plated Never make me your aspiration I have lost my lustre and shine Do not look at me. Do not put generations in my hands to hold Do not make me lead or follow It will be catastrophic like the blind leading the blind Do not look at me. I am your pillar no longer, The foundations below me have gone to shambles I am breaking and disintegrating No support for you to lean on, I am not the roof over your head Do not look at me. Do not look at me. - Swit Marie 21:35...

This is a collaboration piece written by myself and the talented Amanda Danker from Team DemiGods for the 'Postcards for Mount Olympus' event on 18th December 2016 . This piece was inspired by our opposing states of who were are and what we are expected to be age wise. Ever wondered what it is like to be, To be your actual self without inhibition Without inhibition by society and your community, Your community that is of a certain age and type. Childish (adj) Immature. Growing old is mandatory but growing up is optional. There is no reward for: Tantrums and unrealistic demands Impatience and selfishness. Most people still live their lives in jungle gym politics, cafeteria cliques and hierarchy of expensive toys. Mature (noun) Fully developed physically. I have not been the fastest bloomer, height wise but I am an old soul. They tell me if I am small, others will come to my aid, will pick me up with their wings and worries. Like a child I wil...

Mama Lia #evilauntylia challenged us to write on food that we do not like. As for me, I am usually not picky but the one thing I would not crave, is 'chendol'. This is dedicated to those who do enjoy this sweet delight. Along the alleys of Keng Kwee Street, Where tourists flock to beat the heat, Resides a bustling hawker stall, Serving a local delicacy called ' chendol' . Rows of people queuing messily, Calling out for the attention of the aunty, For bowls of chilled, sweet simplicity, To have by the roadside in all its glory. Cubes of ice floating buoyantly, Cooling down the white silky sea, Green slippery strings swimming about, Springy and sliding in and out. The bowl is dressed like an icy dream, Lined with satin white coconut cream, Stitched with threads of gelatinous goodness, Stained of rich brown sugary sweetness. - SY 23:36H 17th October 2016 Mt. Olympus HQ

Happy Halloween to all the oddballs, enthusiasts, lovelies and children of all ages. This was an assignment from months ago given by Mama Lia #evilauntylia. We had a poetry round and combined a line from each of our works to form a stanza. Then we used that stanza to write a new piece. I am not much of a story teller or fiction writer, enjoy! It has been 54 years, 3 months 2 weeks and one day, Hiding behind curtains of lies, schemes, and treachery, Dawned by the eclipse of misdirection and bitterness, I live in the dark, damp, cellar of injustice, Who is counting? The days I have imprisoned myself here, I am just passing time like fruit flies, Waiting to finish it's life cycle and die, Reaping the rotten fruits of the seeds sewn by my bloodline. The kind heiresses use to kill their spinster aunts, With the hope of kin in hand, Like the grasshopper that hops around, As it heard a whisper, "Is this my beginning or the end?" When the water floa...