The pandemonium of 2020

The news came in waves with high pitched voices,

A novel virus on the horizon.

The cause a speculation, not sure of its intention,

Varied reasons came alive, throwing off lies and spies.

Public deaths and covered bodies

Droplets from sneezing grip young and elderly

Shook many an authority.

Flying to outer destinations, Covid19 scares each nation.

Awaiting to hear a first case scenario, pandemonium starts its latest show.

The great virus of 2020, did not appeal our senses rightly,

No stocking of food and vitamins, rather, toilet paper became the frenzy!

Living today, the greats will surely say,

“Off with their heads, it’s such a dismay.”

How can a world of people be so foolish,

Come to stock a commodity which can least prevent a crisis…?

God must have laughed this time around,

A tech savvy people who wear toilet paper as their crown.

Shame to be human this year!!

Copyright 2020~Vearna Gloster.

My sympathy to all those who lost loved ones to this present virus.

Imagine 1

As he unraveled the last thread,

The fight within died.

His palms fell off the edge of humanity’s frail bed,

As his spirit rose to start anew.

No longer sad but bemused by the tragic end,

Of a body failed by the tragedy of a failed system created by man!

No looking back, for there was a dark space, nothing to see.

And so, forward he went into a place,

Where only his imagination had once been able to conjure.

Celestial bodies, preparing for war.

He grinned, for so long within him

Yearned the desire of soldierhood.

The desire to help the weak,

The desire to brave it all

To desire to fulfil a thirst of completion.

The completion of brotherhood!



longing to give your all

nothing you have  to share

maybe it is your true call

where you see nothing there.


it is the rarest moments

that needs are met by faith

look not to what you see in front you

but inward at your heart.


many needs are given

by the love your share

it’s sometimes just one word

which gives a lesson dear.


let not your heart be troubled

to find a material thing

show your loving kindness

it is the noble gift of kings.


Write or die

As early as I can remember I had always wanted to write. But I always had this uneasy way that I was not good enough. I wrote stories during primary school. The imagination was so real, I found myself within the story.  During High School I became a little braver

black and blue plastic pen non top of black covered notebook

Photo by on

by giving my form teacher a few pages I had written in one of my exercise books. After he with edited, I would find out there were so many grammatical errors, I felt ashamed. After some time I felt that maybe this wasn’t my thing and entering the exam time I quit all together.

Over the years I pursued other fields but many of those fields consisted of writing and I was always called a upon to write, be it for a group, individuals or my innermost thoughts that I was unable to express to others.   So there I was, back to square one.  Writing it out because if I had not and do not, I think I would die.  My writings sometimes explode onto pages with tears and ink.  Hands shaking as the emotions run their course.  The release usually ends in more tears.  Call me a cry baby, but darlings, when it aches, nothing takes away the feeling for some time until you cry your heart out.  I do not know why…do you?


It’s like broken pieces fallen from the sky, cutting sharply as they pass

Your life flowing like ink from a broken pen, soaking up the present, staining the past

No one seems to know nor care for the feelings you hold dear

In times like when you no longer can bear the chaos that lies bring too close

To the wonderful escapes you know.

Fighting for the perfect view on life is a mother with her dearly beloved child

Protecting the gifts of untouched nature






They are  like flowers in a garden.

They make you smile and talk awhile

Talk about the things you wish to hear

Or things you do not want to hear

But this only shows how much they care.


In all different colours

Some Topsy turvy in their characters

But all in all, friends are who make life hot wired…


Tear Stairs

He was the vessel in which I cast my tears

He used those tears to water the dry places he found in me

By teaching me to use them as stairs , to reach for the stars as cloudy as it may seem.

The aching pains which left me sore at heart

He taught me to use as a balm against the greater woes of the world.

He was my safe haven in the days of my distracted peace.





The flower

In a garden full of thorns, he found a beautiful flower.  Passing each day he admired this flower among the weeds growing and giving beauty to all the others. Everyone admired the flower from afar.  Some even came close to feel apart of its beauty.  Some were relieved to feel that this flower stood to listen without judgement of them.

As he passed by one day, he was no longer able to restrain his captivation.  He plucked the flower!  As time went by, the flower brought light and freedom to him.  He felt alive again.  But alas! his flaw was arisen again.  He started to pluck at the flower’s petals piece by piece.  Those that were supposed to be history to him, arose again with envy toward the new flower.  And he, not man enough to control his passions, slowly picked at his flower’s sanity, unknowingly, creating a steel hearted being. The flower smiled each time he plucked at her delicateness.  Hoping and longing within herself that he would some day truly feel her love.  That he would someday love himself in that healthy way…  That he would someday be true to himself.  So that they both can truly shine together but she thought maybe he was too late as he tried to correct his wanton ways.  His flower started to die slowly.  Dying from the damaged petals which were taken away.  Dying from the fractured thoughts that were left by his uncaring words.  Dying to know that mankind do not know how to love himself.