fly me to the moon


i googled ‘fly with the moon’.


why do you do this in such a roundabout way?  
it’s not like we haven’t already met, 
so why didn’t you just give it to me face to face?

have you heard the story about icarus?
in his excited stupor, he soared into hubris
as he flew too close to the sun.

his wings melted and he fell,
despairing as he perished;
i’m really happy to have met you,
but i don’t want to fly to my sun,
too carelessly, too closely, too soon, 

and risk suffering the same fate.



why would you repose so much trust in me,
more or less a stranger, that you would
confide in me all these things?

precisely because you are more or less a stranger.
sometimes it’s just easier when that’s the case.

you have nothing to gain from telling on me,
nor do you know any of the characters i tell of
well enough to want to make a judgment
about them or myself for what i think about them.
you probably don’t like me enough to have
a bias for me and you can be unafraid
to tell me about all things as they really are.

you are a listening ear that can be completely
objective and honest about the world,
and that is a very rare luxury these days.

the frog and the bird

Hey buddy, do you mind?!
Why are you jumping up and

down non-stop anyway?

I met a really beautiful Cardinal recently,
she’s a Painted Bunting.

And what does that have to do
with you jumping around?

Birds live in the sky.

… And we frogs live in the pond?
What’s your point, buddy?

We don’t in the same habitat.
I asked her if she would meet
me on land, but she refused.

She said she was uncomfortable
leaving her habitat of the sky.

So I was thinking…

‘Maybe one day I will be able to jump as high as she flies.’

Note: in reality, only the male Painted Buntings are considered beautiful; sexual dimorphism is prevalent in birds, and the males are usually more colourful and vibrant than their female counterparts.

better off

We enter the corridors of time on the same side,
at similar times, with familiar characters,

and yet emerge from the other end,
wholly different, with changed temperaments.

Sometimes, you might even get the melancholic sentiment of
‘If we had met today, we probably wouldn’t be friends.’

If you had met me today, would we be friends?

Are you trying to be funny? Last I remembered,
I was completely enamoured with you until only recently.


click for source


if from this road i ever this stray,

would you be out there searching for me?

would it be a brilliant warming ray,

or a weeping downcast over me?


silly boy, wherever you go there i’ll be.

it may take a while, but i will find you.

when you’re lost, i’ll help you find your way.

even if you lose it all, we’ll just start anew.

and when you grow old and your hairs turn gray,

look beside you;

unfailingly, there i’ll be.


I’m gonna experiment with an ‘Author’s Interpretation’ section following my poems. They will be in white font, so you’ll need to highlight them to see.

Please give me some feedback as to whether it’s helpful!



The spark that set off this poem was the first line from Angus & Julia Stone’s ‘Get Home’:

If I ever, ever did stray
Would you come back
Come back to me?

I imagined a scenario where a man stands at (figurative) crossroads, where any decision he makes (and he must make one) will have huge repercussions on his life. He muses whether his adored one would follow him, or if the path is one he must walk alone. The rest should be pretty straightforward. :B


p/s: you may also request for me to write an Author’s Interpretation (AI) for any of my previous works.

without hindrance

‘sweetheart my darling, let’s just run away from all of this. i love you and i would flee with you in a moment’s notice. i am devoted to you.’

‘apple of my eye, Talitha. i love you more than the poems can say or the arias can sing. yet i tell you: do not be devoted to me, instead be devoted to God; for i cannot save you, but He already has.’