Omg, you just wrote a poem!

Waves- they murder,

They crash against the cold cove,

Tides ripping like daggers through the stone wall.

Credit: Brewed at 5 am


September 9

My eldest uncle, dad’s oldest brother, lost his battle to cancer on this day around 26 years ago. 

Each year, as September 9 rolls by, it is a dark and gloomy day for us. Even though I was only 1 when my uncle  died, and I don’t remember anything about him- only stories, I am just as much affected by his death.

All of my family gathers at my grandparents on this day. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Dad and his siblings don’t go to work today. We have lunch and dinner with my grandparents. Dad visits my uncle’s grave with all the men. They feed the poor in my uncle’s name. We desperately try to lift my grandparents sad moods. It’s a ritual that is happening ever since I can remember. 

Of course, losing a child is hard. And it is the worst thing ever. Especially, if it’s your first born, too. My uncle died at 35, leaving behind two children. Babies, really. 2 and 4 years old. My grandmother raised them. His daughter is like my sister and we have grown up together. And maybe that’s why her pain is my pain and why this day is painful for me, too. 

I have never seen my grandmother break down before. She has always stayed strong, composed. She is the kind of woman who takes on a challenge and climbs the highest mountain without a sweat. She is never weak to the world. Sure, she has been emotional at times, but barely. Until today. 

It’s a worst kind of feeling, when you hear your grandmother sob like a child does. It wrecks you, it shatters you… It cuts like a hundred knives. And I can’t get the sound out of my head… 

I started crying, too. Everyone did.

Today was a very gloomy day, indeed. 

It’s been 26 years, but some wounds never heal… I have so much love and respect for all the parents who continue to have courage after losing their children…. You are brave and surely, your patience and courage will be rewarded. Amen. 

No matter how old or young, children should bury their parents. Not the other way around.  

I’m in Bali!

The last time I was here, it was 20 years ago when I was 5ish. I don’t remember much, but I do remember the sweet roasted corns and the street shops bustling with tourists, also that time at the safari when the giraffe poked his head in the window of our car and smiled at me. 😂😂

This is the twins’ first time here, though and we have new memories to make. ☺️



Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. His hands can’t hit what his eyes can’t see. 

Rest in peace, Muhammad Ali. May God grant you the highest place in paradise, Ameen. ❤️❤️❤️

I grew up watching your fights on tape, on repeat. Hundred times a day, my brother would rewind, forward and pause and rewind again, and make me and my sister watch all your fights and interviews and glorious moments continuously.

You were really handsome, and tbh, you have set the bar really high for me. I admit I developed a crush on you, from the moment I first saw you on TV. You were so sassy, and beautiful and confident, you stole my heart right there and then!

A couple of years ago, I set up a google alert on my email to get news about you, and I wasn’t prepared for this. It’s so heartbreaking. I was really dreading this day. The good are always the first to leave early. And surely the world is a lot gloomier now that you’re gone.

You will always be remembered by this tomboyish girl. I love you. ❤️❤️❤️

I bleed poetry

It’s been such a long time since I last wrote a poem, or even read one just for the sake of it. I would come across blogs, etc, but I haven’t read all those poetry books by my favorite writers in such a long time. Maybe, since I have stopped writing poems, I thought I had moved on from poetry. However, today, my younger cousins reminded me again how much it means to me, and why it intrigues me still.

Maryam, who is 11, and Mina, 8, have their poetry exams tomorrow. They each have a poetry book, and have to learn selected poems by heart, and tomorrow, they have to recite them to their teachers. And that is supposed to be their poetry exam. I remember I would have the same tests, and I still know some of the poems that I learned in primary school by heart.

When my cousins were practicing with me, I could see myself at their age. English was my favorite subject at school. I was a very slow learner and was frowned upon by teachers in most subjects, but I would always get great marks in English and Poetry lessons. I would love reading poems, and had no trouble memorizing them, too. This bugged my mom and teachers a lot, because I would fail all other lessons at primary school.

Today, I read their poetry books and I realized how much it fascinates me even to this day. Even now, when I don’t write as often as I want to.

Kelly is Queen

Who else was blown away by Kelly Clarkson’s Piece by Piece performance last week on Idol? *raises hand* Did you see Keith sobbing? That was me! Actually, I was worse than Keith. She delivered the song with so much emotion that I could totally feel her hurt, and it just unraveled me. I have so much love and respect for her. I think she has one of the best voices in the music industry right now, the strongest too.

I’ve been a massive Kelly Clarkson fan ever since I can remember. My first memory was of Miss Independent. I was 10 or 11 at that time, and I was obsessed! I bought all her CDs and I still have them to this day. Her voice is absolutely god-gifted and so captivating. She has been a constant in my teenage years and I thank her for her music and everything that she’s done.❤️❤️❤️

Stone cold

A friend just told me that my sadness is just routine now. I don’t know what to feel about that. But that got me thinking. I do usually stay up at night, and one thought leads to another and I feel quite miserable and sad and cry for a bit. Usually, this happens every other night. And like my friend said, it’s routine. How do I stop my depression? Is there a button that I could just press to switch it off?