Friends of Nature

Let the sun escape through the
Leaves and reach her pink cheeks,
Let the calm wind wave its wings
On AA’s smile and fly around us,
Let the songs of birds translate into
RC to reach our lovely hearts,
Let heavenly wisdom condense
Into AS’s soul for a blessed day,
Let the energetic flow of rivers run
Into SG to share his dance,
And let the wildest of flowers
Bloom the wonders of SK.

Meanwhile, their natural whispers enter
My inner core to enlighten our era.

When It Rained

Today, the rain drenched its own face
With tears as it touched my lips,
Commemorating a day where it left
Its own purified heavenly home,
And here I am still covering my face,
Hiding from its painful hushing drums,
A musical to the dancing hearts of nature,
Trees swinging to rescue every raindrop,
To revitalise its soul with earthly minerals,
Ah would you look at the new leaves,
Emerging and growing as the Sun glorifies
Its beauty across the endless horizon,
Now, it ascends back to its heavenly home.

It’s Tempting

Captain came up with a plan,
We shall raid the royal ship,
Hide behind an archipelago,
And beam towards the Sun,
Forward! Right! Cannons!
Holes in their burning flag,
Battle won, their ship sunk,
And we sing on their gold,
We light a smouldering fire,
We roast a delicious lamb,
A feast ha! A feast for us all,
And while they sing, while
They dance, and while they
Eat, while they sleep, hehe,
I shall go below the ground,
All the treasure lies around,
At the centre is a huge box,
Its key is on its golden lock,
So I open it and within it lies
A dark purple slimy octopus,
So I run up towards the deck,
Back to my mates we sing,
And we dance, we eat, and
Then we shall all fall asleep.


There was once a businessman,
Corrupted beyond logical reason,
He would count the stars at night,
And before sunrise – before any
Witnesses – he would take one,
Because, to him, they were not
Very efficient on the dark sky,
He would rather take them for
Their energy and sell them for
Profit so that by the end of the
Year three hundred and sixty
Five stars were put in the safe
In one of his banks that nobody
Knew, and one night, there was
A little girl who could not sleep,
While the moon snored aloud,
But her eyes were attracted
Towards those diminishing
Stars nobody ever befriended,
Except her where she and
Twinkle talked for the entire
Night, but just before the
Sun showed itself, the man
Put Twinkle in his big bag,
His greed blinded him to see
The poor little girl crying so
Innocently asking for help,
Here and there, shouting at
Other stars to pull the bag
Away from that greedy man,
But nobody listened, so she
Decided to follow this wicked
Man back to where he locked
Twinkle, but what she saw was not
Only Twinkle but also the rest of
The stolen stars, millions and
Millions of them trapped in the
Safe, and so she decided to open it,
Break it, destroy it entirely, and
When she did the stars floated
Freely towards their home, but the
Businessman shouted at the little
Angry girl: “you have to pay for the
Loss of revenue!” but the girl
Shouted back: “they don’t belong
Here,” the evil greedy man said:
“I counted them all night, I labelled
Them, I made them efficient, and
Now, they’re gone because of you,
Didn’t you know that I owned them?”
The girl said calmly: “they were
Never for sale in the first place.”

Read Between the Lines

A chronicler dwells in clear waters,
Just on the outskirts of a red post,
The prison, to which many others
Have escaped, is now left behind
To crumble before emerald trees,
Maps drawn to find this treasure,
But a compass might fail to work
Over here next to the nine paths,
The legend might just be a myth,
But to me, you only have to heed,
There is this man who disappeared
Behind the shadows of two sisters
That resided the crumbling prison,
So, avoid the chronicler that dwells
In clear waters for your own sake,
Find those who escaped and set
Them free from this awfully chaotic
World that is deemed to fall in the
Wrong hands like that of the sisters,
But love the rituals in the legend,
Sketched out of suns and moons,
Sending the star back to the post.

Painting a Portrait

The two-dimensioned dilemma switched sides
To impersonate historical ageless Time where
At one end the black-and-white canvas would
Rotate into a pictorial film and scream aloud
Ancient symbolic letters for peace and justice.

Certainly, this era’s dogma about our truly old
Unpainted portraits revolved around ignoring
The essence of life dismissing the colossal law
Of the starry constellations among our shining
Sun, our glowing Moon, and our celestial souls.

Then the plot thickens after an innocent kid
Picks up brushes and a colour-filled palette
To openly colour its own portrait accidentally
Triggering the reversal movements of Time
As anti-clockwise severely destroys all dreams.

Albeit, the kid grows and learns to unlock
That treasure box and remove the partially
Painted canvas to tear it apart in hope that
One day Time will listen to this kid’s sorrows
Switching back to a one-dimensioned film.

Branches to Snap

Little have I known about the
Depravity of a soulless branch,
The one that hangs its own
Head out of an ancient tree,
Loosely swerving left and right,
Storytellers around the world
Gather for a memorial service,
Serviced by the intellectuals
Of my distorted modern era,
And surely, I have noticed the
Absence of many immaturely
Malicious minds of many men,
Eyeing my crooked branch to
Snap beyond conceivable repair,
And let the storms ride over
The hunchbacks of these
Desolate Times of history,
The results of which is a
Sacrificial ritual to fiercely
Burn the ashen hearts of
Our Sun and our Moon,
And to beget another form
Of amorphous tree void of
Any symbolic growing letters,
Yet, its mountainous branches
Will feed on other crooked
Soulless ones like mine,
A repetitive scene that
Little have I known to
Have ever existed before.