About Us

Your face gleams in stars
I look up alone at night.

Your words shine with suns
I search in far galaxies.

Your heart sits so high,
It’s frozen. Should I leave now?
Said I to my heart.
A line of white clouds stop me.

These feet are stuck here
Standing on dewy grasses.

It’s almost morning.
Maybe you’ll wake up, I’ll see.

It’s a bird story
Finding a place called a home.
She thinks home is far.
It lies in her heart meadow.


Penang – Oct 5, 2022 / 04:56am

Blessed Day Reclaimed

Cold morning switched off the air conditioner.
Whistling wind wildly knocked on the glass door.
Windy rain greeted Sunday morning.
What dry hanging got re-soaked — a basket of potentially re-wash.

May kindness be absent for a while?
May a pinch of disappointment be sprinkled?
May a drop of despair be shared today?

A promise was wished
To smile,
To laugh,
Or to just close eyes in unbearable
And sleep away,
Or to make noise among fire, water and oil,
Or simply splash some ink on paper or wall—

That this noisy weather
Is less noisy than the kitchen.
And it turns back to a blessed day.

Sometimes it only takes some kitchen noise to save a Sunday.

when you feel bad, boil vegetables and other stuff 🥺
and make them the best gado-gado on earth for this morning’s breakfast! Ok, Sunday, I will stay home the whole day while you get soaked by rain 🙃

Leaving The Thrones

I dive
Every night
To where you are
And see no one
You are diving
To where I’ve left my throne.

When I’m back,
You’re back
To where you”ve left yours.

If we know the hours of each others’ departures,
We’ll meet at the crossroads
Where what’s left behind
Is forgiven, not forgotten


daruma tea canister where I wrote my wish to happen, leaving an unnecessarily thrones behind; ego is the strongest block, leave it!

What Are You

Behind what’s seen,
What are you, Beloved?

Root of a tree
Who grows in in the dark,
Breathes with the creepy crawly,
Sleeps in none of seasons.
Silently grateful for
What’s not understood.

Cartilage of a human body
Who is not hard enough to be bone,
Not soft enough to be muscle,
Comfortably sits in between,
Catches messages delivered
By whisper, breeze and wind.

Jasmine sambac of the garden
Who is humbly tiny, clustering;
Blooms the whole year,
Leaves much fragrance to the day,
Deep meaning to celebration
Before she dries brown.

Helium of the sun
Light, low, odourless, tasteless, insipid—
It’s peaceful to be low profile,
It’s more joyful and freer,
It’s easier to be me,
Closer to Gaia.

Yet no secret bandit among
The rascals in the block!


What what?!
Don’t ask. I can be anything

Rainy weekend is good especially when just have to shortly reply “Ok!” to a message saying “Heavy rain. Impossible to bike. Rain check ya.”


🥰 can watch this forever! lovable rascals!

Poem, Beloved and I

Time is paper
With which poems are unrolled.

My beloved said
You need pens, I give you trees.
You need ink, I give you oceans.
Write love poems with love
Until you run out of paper.

I said
I need much paper
I want as much as I want
My love poems are trillions and more.

My beloved said
I won’t let you write forever
The last paper is not for you
It is for me to invite poets for a party
Where a special spread is ready.

I asked
How much paper will I get
Will you give me as much as I want
Will you let me write trillions of love poems?

My beloved said
Write as much as you want
I’ll give you as much as you write
You’ll get your paper for your trillions
As long as they’re yours.

My beloved said
Be dignified, write your own poems,
As the spread will be only for those
Not claiming from others’ names.

big lunch, mini spread for my hard work today – my parents’ message about how to enjoy luxury of life: be dignified to
“eat” what you’ve worked and share with love 🙏🏼

Why Space & Time

The depth of silence is
As deep
As ocean of possibilities.
Shaken, the ocean will splash
Drops of gifts.

Time once revealed
When the gifts will appear.
It once said
There is a moment in time.

Space once revealed
Where the gifts will arrive.
It once said
There is a point in space.

Spacetime once revealed
Why the gifts will engender.
It once said
There are reasons in life:
Unfortunately wrapped
In colours and shapes,
Often times disguising things:
A crow into a dove,
A wolf into a sheep,
A dumpsite into a garden,
A villainess into a heroine,
An evil witch into a kind queen,
Bent into straight—
Misleading this traveler’s direction.

Once it was said
There is
That she will find
Somewhere some time only if
She minds.

Dear, Light.
You can reveal
True colours
True shapes
True hearts
True reasons.

Be deeply silent
Even in the crowd
Where ocean of possibilities
Is shaken
In this spacious time.

The gift is relatively fair, Beloved.
Be ready.


when window nook is ready for daydreaming, no book, no paper, no gadget – just her welcoming gifts

Ode to A Secret Love


Yet dimensions have distanced us with invisible connection.


Only wish and pray I can send through speechless wireless across the elements.


Dream, dream, dream, dear love.
Life is but a dream.
I hope we visit each other
In each of our good dreams,
Before we wake up and together we stream.


It doesn’t matter and it doesn’t count
Even how I miss you most; like a tiny penny in a billionaire’s account:
Missed and forgotten through space and time.


It rains again which I love the most
As the longing for you gets swept away
By the water falling and gliding on the window: sweetly cold.


Yet this stubborn heart
Still sings in silence
Alone with clear sweet voice
Without doubt
That someday this feeling will fade away,
Leaving a good memory through time and space.

Listen, this is an ode
To a secret love:


daydreaming in a rainy day – RC Gorman’s “Woman with Poppies”

Hymn to The Hair

A lady is walking to the lake.
An empty clay jar sits on her waist.
Her hair is hanging loose,
Listening to love songs, waving to the sky.

Sitting, she looks down
Saying hi to her reflection on and on.
My hair, thanks for growing long
And for listening to my love songs.

A lady is walking back to home.
A clay jar full of water sits on her waist.
Her hair is waving by the wind:
Spreading patchouli fragrance, calming down the lane.

Walking, she looks forward
Humming her best love songs.
My hair, thanks for spreading good scent
And making my life so fragrant.
My hair, thanks for being silken
And keeping this flame ardent.
My hair, grow grow long.
My hair, listen to these love songs.
My hair, stay here
Until home is welcoming me.

Each and every one deserves love and appreciation. Today I took longer time to scrutinise and caress my hair; this stubborn tough protein deserves love and appreciation, too.

A hymn for my hair is not too much, an extra love after shampoo to clean, conditioner to soften and sometimes hair dye to match the mood.

my definition of beautiful day: long hair after treatment at the weekend 🥰 (RC Gorman’s artwork, from Pinterest)

Love Makes

Love makes heart full.
Love makes heart empty.
Love makes heart laugh.
Love makes heart cry.
Love makes heart closer.
Love makes heart distant.
Love makes heart trust.
Love makes heart distrust.
Love makes heart bloom.
Love makes heart wither.
Love makes heart healed.
Love makes heart broken.
Love makes heart warm.
Love makes heart cold.
Love makes heart enlightened.
Love makes heart blinded.
Love makes heart beautiful.
Love makes heart wicked.
Love makes heart bright.
Love makes heart weary.
Love makes heart sing.
Love makes heart scold.
Love makes heart write love poem.
Love makes heart compose hate speech.
Love makes heart recite ballads.
Love makes heart scream hoax.
Love makes heart look foolish.
Love makes heart look angry.
Love makes heart love more.
Love makes heart hate more.

Love makes heart swing like a pendulum between two ends.

You say love is
You say love is not
You ask what is love

Love makes space
To those willing
To feel,
To taste,
To experience
Millions of what’s-nots
To know
The what-is.

We decide
Which space
To be filled
With what.

This is about love—
An unlimited edition
But still
Difficult to grab.

missing home where love is as simple as opening the door ajar to let the breeze in – please bless me oh Allah…. this poor soul 💝 thanks for everything

I Slowly Spell Your Name

Though not a true ID,
Your name ships all senses to
An existence.

A name that I spell slowly,
A name representing silence and unattendance,
Almost ignorance.

Your name
A password
To where a gap between real and unreal resides?

Your name
A padlock
With which a visitor busily matches the key?

Your name
Sugar leaf
With which a cup of tea gets sweetened with its dissolving?

Your name
Coffee powder
Which settles at the bottom of a cup after its releasing caffein and acidity?

Your name
A myth
That resembles history?

Tell me
The story of
Your name.

Your name
I slowly spell
Every time
A face flickers
Around this nerve system.

Indeed a name isn’t a true ID. The ID is more than just the given name.

Namamu Kueja Pelan-Pelan by Pusakata

Daydreams of A Lover

Have got everything:
A sweetest smile,
A cheery hello,
A loving look,
A warm hug,
A good kiss
All in loving care.

Yet in all daydreams of closeness and connection….

I wish to give
You a warm kiss,
Yet impossible
You are too high
Up the sky;

I hope to give
You a pretty daffodil
Yet unlikely
You are too disguised
Behind the curtain;

I want to spread for
You a good breakfast
Yet too early
You wake up too late
In another day;

I want to paint
You a red torii
Yet too trivial
You know torii much
Better than me;

I am writing
You secret love poems
Yet in vain
You don’t even care
They exist.

Breath is with what I count life.
Breath is in what I save love.
Breath is on what I paint faith.
A warm kiss,
A pretty daffodil,
A good breakfast,
A red torii,
And secret love poems
Have livened this breathing
You have got
A sweetest smile,
A cheery hello,
A loving look,
A warm hug,
A good kiss
All in loving care.

I only wish
You behind the curtain
See me breathing
For and with

This long weekend of Eid Al-Adha is turning to brighter space with slow breathing, daydreaming and chili party.

Happy Eid Al-Adha, family and friends. Hope we are blessed with closeness and connection with the Source of Love.

Alhamdulillah 💝

RC Gorman’s – what an inspirational picture for chili lovers 😁

My Notes

I see
In the clarity of evening lake.

I hear
Through the whispering midnight wind.

I touch
In the warm water I splash at the dawn.

I taste
In the green tea I sip in the morning bright.

I smell
In the best lunch of the day.

I feel
In this throbbing heart in the sweet twilight.

Across the ocean:
Name is so real,
Why not

Doraemon, lend me your Dokodemo Door to lock my unpleasant attitudes forever – don’t let hatred ignite hatred in me ☺️

Love Is

Love is
Unseen rope
Invisibly tying
Sparkling souls.

Love is
Interconnected network
Constantly connecting
All computers.

Love is
Moving air
Secretly exchanged
Through breathing.

Love is
An attached context
Building meaning
In a statement.

Love is
A medium
Conveying messages
To a ready recipient.

And what is not
Is not.

Years of experience has brought me to an understanding that subtle sensitivity is one of the keys to understanding, genuineness, boundary and security.

Welcome to genuine hearts. Good bye to tricky engagements.

Today I’m in love again with those around me who never give up on my clumsiness and insensitivity and with myself who becomes more patient and acceptant.

Salaam. 💝

“3 sisters with love in heart” in progress – thanks for being older than me, you both are beautifully blessed ♥️♥️♥️

Finding You

Longing for
Is not
The opposite:
This love
An expansion
Longing for

This room
Full of
Longing for
Only love
Can define

Of meeting you
A pain,
These wings flap ahead
A view of
Zooming in and out
Giving a clue.

This love
Travels deeper
To a secret chamber
Where the gate
Finally finds the end.

Everything looks like you.
Everywhere locates you.
Every time shows you.

Hey, you!
Is it


a red torii to be, not shut down, a restart everyday

Rain Behind The Hills

It seems raining behind the hills.
Dark blue curtain
Hanging from heaven
Dances through her own rhythm.

Will it rain under the tree?
You asked.
Rain will pour down to the ground,
Tree is your canopy.
Will it flood on the pathway?
You asked.
Flood will turn to the river,
Pathway is your journey.
Will it be sunny?
You asked.
Sun shines with no holiday,
Sunday is when you think you are free.
Will you meet me?
You asked.
I am meeting you
Through the rain and flood
With the sun and cloud
Without holiday.
You seem to worry about the rain.
The rain behind the hills?
Dark blue curtain
Hanging from heaven
Dances with your rhythm.
Keep walking,
You see.


really not easy using water colour 🥺

Finding the Coherence

There is no natural conflict on earth.
When there is conflict, it must have been because of wrong thinking model installed in the nerve system.


Because everything is coherent in the universe.

How scientific but disappointing!
Her life craves for drama
Like her brain craving for sugar.

Fix the point of view
Or the distance of view
Or the angle of view
Or whatever to see things clearly
To save my own life
For comfort?
For sanity?
For (false) equilibrium?
For clarity!

The journey restarts.
No regret.



find it to fix the big picture!

Jun. 7, 2022 / 5:20am

Tickling My Ego

Sometimes I’m somebody
At a conference room
Where win-win
Isn’t always a solution.

Sometimes I’m anybody
When long lost friends
Suddenly say hi and cry
“Would you please help? Would you help?”

Sometimes I’m everybody
When I blindly devote myself,
When I wholeheartedly do everything needed,
When I run around everywhere to find you.

Sometimes I’m nobody
When I feel my heart beats,
My breath slows down with calmness,
When I know nobody is with me.

Thanks, my body.
You’re a complete gift to me.

I dedicate the above free verse to Emily Dickinson who has touched my life with many of her poems especially “I’m Nobody! Who are you?”



this poem was introduced by Ibu Siti Parwati Soemarto, our lecturer who always challenged her students to bravely see who we truly are – 28 years ago! damn I’m an old nobody! how bitterly fair life is! Terima kasih, Ibu Soemarto. 💝

Home, A Journey

Have you heard of the word home?
I often think of what it is
And where it is.

My friends all say it.
That it is where shelter is,
That it is where family is,
That it is where safety is,
That it is where heart is,
That it is this earth that spins,
Blah blah blah,
That it is this,
That it is that.

What is a home?

I’m not as intelligent as they are.
I can only tell what’s not a home.
Sometimes my apartment isn’t a home.
Sometimes my childhood home isn’t a home.
Sometimes I don’t feel safe staying in this safest place.
Sometimes my heart is flying across the ocean while I’m sitting in the sofa.
This earth is traveling to where I don’t know.
Sometimes I just don’t believe what my friends say about home.
I’m sorry for being not so intelligent as all of you are.

I will keep identifying what’s not home
Until I’m home.

home, where roses greet me in the morning 🌹