From a faux-deep mosquito

You assume I am in hiding That I find you terrifying When my mouth can do More damage than you Okay, maybe not But if I get away With blood on my hands And lips and stinger Who’ll be laughing then? And not in hiding Suffering ceases to be suffering when it finds meaningViktor Frankl I watch you in the dark Yours cannot see me Your frame, delicious in most parts Marked with palms that slap To kill Kin squished Blood spilled Yours, granted But if I get away It’s your blood on my hands


There were seven sisters…

There were seven sisters. Zosa, Bumis, Pos, Sera, Pimnis, Pejil and Zicharo. Zosa had the hustle. Her love for her effort got her foot out of bed in the morning. She hated that she was emotional, but sometimes, people did piss her off. That’s what happens when you have things to care about. She couldn’t do calm like Bumis. Even though she knew her sister’s calm was always a facade, Zosa wished she too had the talent to hide behind a smile. She wished she could quiet her mouth at times. It had proven futile. Pos was dirt poor. Not …
Read More


Caught In a Candle

What it is, I’m unsure It flickered, may have lit up There’s definitely no cure Trust, I have looked What it is, I am grateful For talent, that comes as easy as the sun and moon What it is, as it flickers Is definitely not a blast It is caught in the wax Sticky, but hard when cold the blizzard too strong And it, caught in a candle



Late into the night sky; Do you lift your eyes to the heavens when I call to you? When the night sky is dark except for the shimmering and I face a crescent cut. Do the strings pull in your chest as mine hope ever so hopelessly? You come fleeting by As if nothing means everything and truth lies on your sole. Crushed, awaiting an end to the era that never was, and is it coming? Am I good enough? Are you? The mirror cracks every time it doesn’t and no words can fix the facade. Fleeting like the memories …
Read More


The Way

You live by way of pert Arms outstretched; Intuition shut-down Your soul an ewer of emotion A visionary sans vision Packed fresh for Thanatos With dreams of red You live the way they act Stuck in cocoons of unsteadiness *** I kinda sorta maybe feel like myself again, finally, and will post every fortnight till the year’s end. There is nothing to report, kids. Everything is great, which makes me wonder when the other shoe plans to drop. However, until it does, I plan to revel in this energy. I came to this poem with an idea of what I …
Read More

Fencing ocean

Short Story #3a

I have a cold, and was rained on today. So, I found that reason enough to take it as a reminder to post this before Thursday ends, because that’s how deadlines see my boots! I feel much better [from the cold] and might actually sleep better that I did last night, if at all. This is another short story that I kept telling myself needed a second part too many times that I actually gave it a part B. **we still have no title for this, so we’ll just call it ‘Short Story 3a’ for now Short Story 3a If …
Read More


The Final Words of Carina Smyth

“The final words of Carina Smyth. Good sirs, I’m not a witch but I forgive your common dim witlessness and feeble brains. In short, most of you have the mind of a goat.” Good sir Do you see? Rain washes down Everything Drenching me Flowing with Thoughts of you *** I am getting into a pirate phase, so brace yourselves. I am watching Taika Waititi’s ‘Our Flag Means Death’ which so far is perfection, and reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island and the captain, who was already my favorite, has fallen to his death. What’s left is curating the perfect …
Read More



A lot of things are great about the cold weather being here [I understand it is summer elsewhere, bear with me]. Things like socks, where we can now have them on all day and night without feet being too hot [or maybe it is you that is hot and socks can suck it]. Nights when it would get so uncomfortable in them that your toes have trained themselves to superhuman abilities of removing socks without help are long gone. Socks make everything better, and especially when it is cold. You can walk around without bothering about slippers in the house …
Read More

The Boy and His Ball

Short Story #2

Time seems to keep losing track of me, but what is important is that we’re here, and we’re done. As promised, here is the second stort story that I wrote early this year. *** The Boy and His Ball The fear was still present in her chest. Fear that had crippled the whole world in different magnitudes. Nancy still felt it, despite having watched the news last night and this morning. The Minister of Health had stated clearly that the nation was free of the disease. We had won. Triumphed over the coughing and chest pains and death. Oh the …
Read More


Scarlet Thread

When you meet love, you’ll know That’s what they say Even before you see their face How you know without knowing A scarlet thread in play I like that and me toos The similarities insane You will never think of anything like this It doesn’t exist until it does      Until it dies When you meet love, you’ll pretend Not for not seeing him For your sanity and repeat mistakes And you will convince love to leave   Then whisper begging him to turn back I love yous you won’t mean The separation deafening You will wish for something like it For …
Read More

Never miss an Update!

Previously on Mirawu


March 2023

Follow & Like 🙂

Copy link
Powered by Social Snap