Tag Archives: Poetry

The Good Stars in Aquarius


Celestial streams of Independence, Intelligence, Trustfulness
Became the Stars of Your Destiny constellated across the northern skies
Shining thru the cold wintry night as the radiant meteor diamonds,
Crowning you with the magical powers of mystic Aquarius.

Author’s Note: It’s a poem dedicated to all whose astrological sign is Aquarius 🙂




There is a flower Nymphs – favor-
And Fairies – prefer –
To gain the Purple Ambrosia
The Pythia – desire –


Author’s Note: The flower word for Ambrosia is “love reciprocated”. The Pythia, a sacred prophetess devoted to god Apollo in ancient Greek Delphi, lived a rather secluded solitary life, perching on the brink of social isolation, for she sacrificed herself to the devotion to Apollo, the beautiful god of the sun, music, medicine, and knowledge. But it is quite possible that this Pythia might have secretly fallen in love with a mortal man for no other reason than being a woman of flesh and spirit. Lamentably, her love was unrequited and never returned. She was cursed to live alone till her last breath on earth.  

at the station


Congress of commuters gather on a platform before the dawn,
reciting their daily credo of existential tasks in reverie,
swiveling their consciousness in hazy dreamy expectation
till the train from the dark arrives at the station of humanity.

Author’s Note: This poem is forthright in describing how I look at my fellow daily commuters on train in the wee hours of morning. My observation concludes that we commuters are half-awaken from slumber but wholly-assured of our purposes of performing our daily morning rituals of what we habitually do consciously or unconsciously, willfully or mechanically; that we all have destinations to disembark –  be it considered workplaces or schools – where demands imposed upon our daily assignments await us to fulfill them. It may sound twee or hyperbole, but that’s the fundamental element of finding our meaning of existence – ego qua meaningfulness – as wisely propounded by Joseph Conrad  herein. 

I don’t like work–no man does–but I like what is in the work–the chance to find yourself. Your own reality–for yourself not for others–what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness