Dawn Aug 19

a roadtrip to somewhere,
just so we could watch a meteor shower.

we didn't even know exactly where to go,
only that we wanted to watch the shooting stars without the city's glow.

at first adrenaline filled our somber and tired selves;
we were all fueled with the idea of seeing something magical at twelve.

then came the rush of being lost in lonely, secluded roads.
suddenly we realized, this trip, to our parents we should've told.

whose is that car parked at the other side of the highway?
were they here even before we stopped to look at the meteors fall away?
should we flee or should we stay?
i don't want this to be our last day.

oh god please help us
we're running out of gas

and just as we are consumed with panic,
and fear of strangers in places, dark and exotic
we drive back to the city,
where the people are awake and much less creepy.

when the lamposts became brighter,
and the surroundings no longer sinister,
where the stars we so longed for became much hazier,
we simply laughed at our cowardice,
and at our overly-hightened suspiciousness.

as dull, yet terrifying the world can be,
even with rare astronomical phenomenas that are oh so sightly,
adventures are really, no less scary.
yet everything can still feel mesmerizing,
and even reassuring,
so long as you are able to find just the right company.

081217. A late night roadtrip with my friends turned into cinematic adventures. I'm glad we're all safe now.

i left the party.
everything felt better when i got some
running water underneath my feet
and felt the brisk winds kiss my rosy cheeks,
the only thing i need brushing up against me.
looking down i found
the riverbeds and arches were laced
with fleeting reflections of fireflies.
i'm missing the meteor shower tonight
sitting in the village square i come to
when i'm sick to my stomach of staring up
and not seeing a single twinkling light.
because pollution has plucked the stars
from my city's night skies.
there's a street corner over a city or two
where we could see falling stars perfectly
in the graveyard or by the nelson monument.
somewhere much more romantic.

Afiqah Apr 24

they never once spared
a little of what it's like to be
in a shell
of their own beast-like
contumacy self
they kept us in wards and
clipped our wrists
forsaking us
to take on their nasty egoism
where all the other assassins
burst their lungs away
with the last wine that holds
little drops of the
fiery Tunguska comets


yuki motokane Dec 2016

like a meteor
that falls to the earth
she fell for him

like a meteor
and it's small pieces
that scatter when it crashes

like the broken pieces
that lay on the ground
she was lost
she was broken.

but the feeling of falling was all worth it.

Galaxy bathe in milk
waves of blue sea bouncing high
blue whale sailing

Meteor falling down
lightening flash in the clouds
small child getting scared

a dark cloud emerges
skylark opening the mouth
frog enjoying rain

Duck floats on water
sun smiles at its reflection
fisherman sail

Wind touches her cheeks
rainbow kisses purple steamy lips
vibration in dark clouds

A Haiku Poem On Nature
Darkness Aug 2016

where did she come from
a meteor, it must be
her eyes contain the madness from stars
her lips the endlessness of the dark

Aris Jan 2016

Hayaan mong saluhin kita na tila isa kang bulalakaw na babagsak pa lamang...
Hindi na kita hahayaang lumagpak pa ng tuluyan
At hindi na rin ako mahuhulog para sa iba

b Oct 2015

I eventually found clarity on clear nights
The nights where the stars would tell stories of myself
One star told me that she saw me crying one night on the shores, she didn't have the heart to ask me why
Another star told me that she saw me pacing back and forth in my backyard asking myself why I was born
But there's one star that told me this story where he saw me laughing on the beach with some familiar faces. He said it was the first time he saw me smile that season. He saw me smile again when the meteors showed their face that night.
A meteor chimed in and said, 'We took our time that showing up that night because we saw a love rising. Multiple, actually. We saw your face light up more than our trails did every time he spoke."

I am writing this on behalf of my newfound happiness.
H Fox Sep 2015

Outside with tea and blankets:
a Fortress against the

August cold.

And so begins another typically English evening.

night is marching,
marching on and


we are not glued to our phones
nor the daily grind.

we catch a handful of

Shooting Stars

and find that this is an addictive occupation.

One moment I wished I could drape my room with starry waterfalls
but then considered how they would


if I breathed too deeply in my sleep.

(a subconscious effort to absorb some starlight into my clotting veins.)

So leave me now under the
Flaming Sky and all its anger.

Leave me alone so that I may fall asleep,
at last.

I have an appointment with the moon about my dulling temperament.

The stars have sworn to let down a



my own Stairway to Heaven.

So rip my heart out,
let my arteries unwind.

Haul me to heaven with my umbilical cord.

There I cling to the back of a comet
and hurtle through space
alive at last and full of stars
until the nausea takes hold

and puts me to bed.

A poem I wrote a few weeks ago about watching the Perseid meteor shower in the garden with my mum.
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