Poetry Day 1: Water

Raindrops trickle down her window
Cold and windy night
A child’s memoir.



A story in a single image

The writing’s on the wall
The clues are on a map
Not all those who wander are lost
Sometimes we wonder to reconnect
We find ourselves once again in the midst of all the chaos,
Trying to get away from it all
We wonder off to strange places
To find some calm
Reborn and brand new
We follow the trail, off the beaten path
The daily commute, the long hikes, the stops we make,
the beautiful strangers we meet
Our steps directed by the Universe
Where do the roads lead us to, I wonder

We are curious creatures,
Searching for something
To satisfy our curiosity
Or maybe to fill that void
We believe we may find it on our way
We believe we what we are looking for
could be right in front of us

Here’s what I learned from this beautiful thing called life;
Life is a journey
A few pit stops to admire what nature unfolds each day
A home is a person,
Not that place we are headed
What we seek, lies within us

But here I am once again,
That curious little creature
In awe of nature and the beauty it unfolds every season
As I pack my bags, thread bare from my past journeys
My rusty but trusty cameras
and films eager to capture what lies beyond
To make a lasting memory
I daydream about how much there is to see
Poring over my map
With my pen, trace along the lines,
my eyes wondering off  the beaten path
I will set off again, with this in mind
Not all those who wander are lost,
The road is home.

Things I like

  • Getting lost in new places
  • Rum and sprite on a flight
  • Green tea
  • Bathing in an onsen
  • Going to the cinema
  • Vintage cameras
  • Exploring new places alone
  • Getting a new hairdo once a month
  • Reading blogs and short stories
  • Having a good time with my siblings and friends
  • Laughing at myself
  • Multitasking
  • Power naps
  • Stilettos
  • Daydreaming
  • Hiking
  • Stargazing

Why I write

I write because writing is a form of art and can be beautifully expressed. I write because it helps me connect with myself; I find it therapeutic.

I write to clear my head on days when I have so much going on. I write to relieve myself of stress. I write to relive beautiful memories.

I mediate daily and I write while I do so. I love the way I’m able to pour out my soul on a piece of paper. I think writing is a beautiful form of communication regardless of what language it is written in.

I love the art of brevity. I write to connect with nature, with people and the universe as a whole. Besides photography, I think writing is the second best thing I love.

I find writing to be the best outlet when I’m angry; I tend to get very creative.

I write to challenge myself. I write because besides being a mental activity, I also find it refreshing and liberating.

I ran out of post-it notes…

The weather is just perfect. I decide to run errands; I go to the mall with the intention of buying green tea.
More than an hour later, I come home with the following: a pretty grey knit sweater from Zara (I couldn’t resist), a novel by John Grisham ( I thought it’d be a good book to read on my summer vacation), four muesli bars, air freshener, an acne cream from the pharmacy (doctor’s prescription – the first one is almost finished) and carrots!
All I did was make a mental note of what I needed to buy (for pete’s sake, it’s just green tea!), dash in and out before I got carried away, then I got to the mall and remembered every other thing but the green tea. Story of my life.


Uh, where was I?

Oh well, it’s 12 noon; I have an hour to write some. I make a mental note to do something which I’m trying to recall. Uh, what was is it again?… Ah, yes I have to print a new cheque book from the ATM; my rent is due. My agent sends me a message saying that the rent has increased. I reply, “How so, did you increase the size of the room”? He says, “I only increased your rent by a 100 bucks. The rents for the other tenants have increased by…..” and he goes on to tell me the exact amounts of the new rent. Yawn, like I care. I have lived in this place for the past two years. 2015 will be my third year. The walls are starting to feel like they are closing in. I think I need to to make the place feel at home once again. So I make a plan, more like procrastinate. I decide to change the color of the wall to something different; maybe white, off white, baby blue? I go online, find some samples and send the photos to my friend. Let’s call her Wembley. She calls me Fraggle. Or is it the other way round? I’ll have to ask her. Anyway,  I send Wembley some photos to help me decide which color to use. She says white is too immaculate; “people who paint their houses white don’t like kids very much”, she says. Well, I love kids, but I can teach them not to touch the walls, can’t I?

That would be very bad of me seeing as I spent most of my childhood defacing the walls of our house. My parents didn’t mind though. Dear, God if you’re reading this please don’ let my kids do the same to me. Phew! it’s 12:13pm. I’m hungry; I think I’ll take my lunch break now. By lunch I mean roasted turkey salad (what in the world, I need meat!) and most certainly two cups or more of green tea afterwards.


12:48pm: Lunch break is over. I’m not sure what I ate – I order this salad from a coffee shop across the street. Normally it comes with a very small amount of macaroni. Lately, it’s been looking more like macaroni salad with slices of turkey on the side. Green tea is brewing in my mug engraved with the signs “Do Not Disturb” on one side of the mug and “Out of Order” on the other. Sublime messages are not my really my thing, but that’s a cool mug. The office is getting cold; I check my weather app and it says 27°C. I work in a skyscraper so there’s a fat chance I’m writing this from the stratosphere.

2:15pm: I take a break to delve into my myriad of thoughts in search of any pending task I am supposed to have accomplished this week. So far, it’s only the cheque book and this is a good sign. “There must be something else”, I say. I think very hard and try to come up with something. So far, there’s nothing…Oh wait, I have an overdue assignment on Fluid Mechanics to hand in. I have to write to my supervisor; I want to ask him to give me more time to get it done. Phew!


Monday, here we go again

I walk into the office and clock in. The punch clock device reads 7:45am. Fortunately no one has arrived yet. Wait, I think I saw my colleague’s car when I pulled into the basement so I guess she’s already in. I usually arrive early because I like to dedicate 15-20mins to meditate (I’m no Dalai Lama but using the word “meditate” gives my daydreaming habit a new and impressive meaning). My way of meditating is by writing down my goals, plans, achievements, anything pleasant from my mental creative workshop. As long as I’m writing. it’s become a habit and a good one at that. Today I’m late because I did not anticipate what the traffic was going to be like. On my way to work, I think out loud, “where did all these cars come from? It’s the first week of January and the roads are already congested. I look at my fuel gauge – that should take me for the next few days.

My colleague (they call him “tea boy” but that sounds very derogatory to me) makes me a hot cup of coffee – black with honey. By 10:00am I’ve had four more cups. I feel so alive. Did I mention he’s my most favorite person here at work? I pick up my red book and make an entry. I will come back to this red book another day. I do some catching up with some colleagues to wish them a happy new year. Just a few of them. Then I sit for a while with one to discuss some pending assignment I asked him to help me with last week.. sorry, last year. He says he never opened the email and promised to look at it tomorrow. Being such a big fan of procrastination, I smile and say, “Oh, no worries, I’m sure you needed enough time to yourself during the holiday. We discuss further on some energy related issues and I finally pull myself out of his office. I talk a lot when I get too comfortable with someone – I never know when to stop. Maybe walking around with a timer might help. I’m drifting again….

I glance at my desktop; it’s 11:28am. I stretch my hands, taking extra care not to raise them higher. I have not shaved my armpits in days. That reminds me; I have to shave my nether region before my vacation which is due in a few days. Call it tradition but I always travel light, hence the need to shave. Ok, back to earth.
By the way, I can always do that tomorrow. For now, I have to get back to my ramblings before something else comes up and I may have no choice but to suspend it.

You see, I have lived in solitude for the past three years. No, I’m not referring to running off to the wilderness with a self-acclaimed prophet with a goatee who goes by the name Zechariah. Born to a family of six with and a home constantly filled with relatives and nannies, (I didn’t mention the part where I was a princess, born with a silver spoon – yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I  still have the spoon to prove it though it’s got some rust on which I’m trying to get rid of.

Ah, where was I again? As I was saying, I grew accustomed to being with company. Moved away from home (I like to say it was job related but that’s not how the story begins), made new friends, lost friends (Or should I say I realized they weren’t my friends to begin with), missed family so much it started to hurt. Then I figured a way to cope in a strange land, filled with strange and odd people; there are nice ones too. Don’t get me wrong; I can do well without company. As a matter of fact, I only love company when I need some distraction. But then, my thoughts having been getting too loud lately….and loud…and now they start seeping through my ears. Suddenly I have this urge to write daily. I’ve never seen myself as writer, but I am a voracious reader. As a kid I read and read until it got to a point where I almost couldn’t tell my imagination from my reality. No, I’m not schizophrenic, but I believe in unicorns.

Oh pardon me. I will introduce myself in a few words. I’m R.Merry. Basically this blog is about my thoughts, ramblings, truths, half-truths and things I made up. I can’t tell the difference anyway. I’m on my second cup of coffee with three more to go.