Feminine Markings

Rose, chestnut, peach, plum,

Smearing the spongy whiteness

Like paint a fresh page.


A.N. I wasn’t sure if this would be too controversial to post, but I decided that part of its excitement is that the aspect of womanhood that it depicts is one not (certainly by myself) come across too often in literature. I really enjoyed writing it because of this uniqueness and the dynamic perspective that it gave me on quite a mundane event. Haiku are amongst my favourite poetic forms because they have such simple rules, yet these same rules embellish what may be, like ‘Feminine Markings’ , a single sentence.


The Phoenix

A scarlet bird frolics across the sky,

its clouds of breath filling the atmosphere;

twigs of an adjacent tree weave into

and out of each other as if to form

a gigantic, haphazard nest.


We hear a song of woodwind and join in,

feeling its wings whipping up a gay breeze;

watching feathers of flame transcend the earth.


Please don’t let the friendly gale run colder;

the faint tune roar; the white billows spit ice;

the radiant plumage disintegrate,

and our magnificent phoenix fall



A.N. I was stressed. And I hadn’t written in ages. So I decided to look to nature, and the autumn afternoon brought me this poem. As the heartbeat rhythm of iambic pentameter suggests, the natural world really does keep us alive, whether it be physically or mentally. I noticed how the fallen leaves looked like the feathers of a phoenix, like Fawkes of the beloved Harry Potter novels; I recognised that my part of the world was in a transitional period from the warmth and light of summer to the cold and dark of winter. And, as a thankless human being, I lamented it.

Seven Billion

Decisions, decisions, decisions, decisions – too many decisions.

They surround me,

points of light in a world that is

spinning; spinning.

I want to cry: hot streams of tears that will empty me of my


But I can’t.

I must wear my blank face, my dead face,

so that the voices don’t catch on that anything went


I must endure the strain in my throat that makes my voice dry and hoarse;

the questions that make my head whirl like a globe on a stand,

full of people, countries, oceans.


A.N. I let the anxiety of perhaps having not made the right university choices overwhelm me; it was all I thought about for several weeks. Being the first time that I had to make such a big life choice, I was determined to do it well. I chose. I got cold feet. I regretted. I panicked. Yet I could do nothing about it. All I could and all that I can do is remember that everything happens for a reason.