All About, ME

Journal Writer/ Songwriter/ Poet

I am a Filipino, emerging writer who is based in Western Sydney, Australia, where I am currently living at. I was born from a small province in the Philippines, San Esteban, Ilocos Sur. Aside from being a writer, I work as an early childhood educator & childsafe officer as I am an advocate for child protection.

I’ve always had interest in writing since I was a young teen, from writing simple poems, songs, and stories as why my kind of passion lies within journal writings, songwriting, & sometimes poem writings.

My main focus in writing is that I write about self reflection about my thoughts, romance, feelings, emotions, dreams, imagination, & wonder. I often find inspiration from the simple things in life, books, other authors, music, movies, or from some other moments of my life, & art.

Titles Of My Poems:
• Pink Rose - Published on (15th Of May, 2020)
• Let Me Cry With You - Published on (22nd Of June, 2021)
• Love Poem, For You - Published on (17th Of June, 2021)
• One Starry Night - Published on (17th Of June, 2021)
• Dear, Heart: I Love U - Published on (14th Of June, 2020)
• Once Upon A Winter’s Dream - Published on (21st Of June, 2021)
• Ulan - Published on (23rd Of May, 2020)
• On My Train Ride Home - Published on (23rd Of June, 2020)
• Black Edges - Published on (20th March, 2020)
• I’m Crying On A Blue Moon - Published on (1st December, 2020)
• One Spring Night - in progress.
• Between Two Lovers, From 2 Different Worlds, There Is A Beautiful Spring - in progress.

It’s lovely to see you here!

@airamarie_writings // @aiirra__

Thank you.
- Aira


I’m Crying On A Blue Moon

I’m crying on a Blue Moon

it’s 11:11.
I should make a wish, as I am
sitting on top of the moon, so
I close my eyes, & whisper to myself,
it would be to crave for your return,
as I am crying on this blue moon,
hoping you’ll come &
sit with me here, soon.

As the white moon turns to blue,
all I want is to be with you, but
you are, from afar, not even a star
could reach, so I look down
from the starry night sky,
which you look above,
every night, & it’s quite a sight
cause it made me know,
that you still love, me.

It’s 1:24.
& as the night continues on,
I see your warm smile,
as I look through the grey clouds,
as you are sleeping in your bed,
hoping you are dreaming of me,
& I cry once more, because I ain’t shy to
let my tears fall down from the sky,
as it rains on an icy-old &
cloudy evening, which pours down
over you, until you’re flooded
with my, love.

But, for now...
as the white moon turns to blue,
make a wish for me,
& I’ll be up there, to listen,
I’ll be up there to smile, &
I’ll be up there to laugh,
with you, as we are
two worlds apart.

It’s 6:59am,
& the moon dies...
to let the sun shine,
but I let the sun shine upon your days,
but don’t miss me too much,
I’ll be up there,

as long the moon
turns, blue.

Aira Marie


Black Edges

I woke up one morning
and I hear pitter patter, pitter patter.

it’s raining... there’s no blue sky and just
a palette of a grey blanket above my roof.

& when I took a look outside,
I see my neighbour’s plant turned

from having her flower be yellow
& lively, so alive & happy but

I saw it had black edges and
it turned its head away from the bench.

it looked dead, completely lifeless.
I see my neighbour’s face as

she cries, cries, & cries until
I am the one crying too.

But, although I don’t know,
who is crying more?

Me? The rain? Or my neighbour?
& I feel as if my rainbow - like world,

had just seasoned into winter &
all I wish is for this life, to be sweeter.

& suddenly, the taste of my orange is bitter.
Nothing, now is ever so sweet, rather

it’s just a rotten lemon, that isn’t ripped,
cause now, I just wish things could

feel right again, so then a sun
would shine though the clouds, &

live my dreams out loud, & smile
back at my best friend from above,

as I water the sunflower next to me,
with a frowning face, and let it

grow bright & yellow again, and
maybe, as this blooms in its own pace,

I will soon be okay &
it’s no race, I will heal in my own time.

I must stay kind, despite my troubles.
I know, there are humans who are lovable.

It rains, and all I hear is pitter, patter, pitter...
It’s raining, but I am not complaining.

it’s just how life goes on,
It depends if I also, move on or not.
can time stop the clock?

Life it’s a funny thing, I’d laugh a lot.
but for now, I give a smile.

hopefully soon, this all will be,


Journal writing piece: by Aira Marie.

2:30am rooftop, sessions.

It’s 2:30am, a normal Wednesday evening, everyone is sleeping, under their sheets, & the street lights in our own little town, is also half asleep, as some are still awake, as some aren’t.

But, just like every young child who lays their head on their pillow, & watching as the moon gloom’s at this very late hour, on top of the rooftop of your home, it’s quite late for some, but time, doesn’t exist for the both of us, as for us, as each and every soul is snoozing, catching their own slumber,

Me and you are on a rooftop,
in each other’s embrace, with conversations about how we’d used to just be little kids wondering if peter man was ever real & wonder if he would visit us and watch us sleep. We’d used to ask our dad to read us a good storey time before he switched the lamp off and saying “goodnight little one, sweet dreams.”

But, now we are adults,
me and you both have a better understanding of the world nowadays, it’s not a fairy tail, of story books up on sale, we live a life with no expiration date, it waits for no one.

Yet, here we are, waiting for the sun
to rise up, as to not think about our own problems, but to just be heart to heart, to be here with you, there’s nothing else that I would rather do.

As the world continues to turn,
you might leave me again, I don’t want us to be apart, as I wake up from this bittersweet moment, you’ll be gone again, my nights become lonely, it’s not such a great feeling, missing someone.

As the night goes by,
it’s now 3:15am, I remember those good old times as we laugh with joy, while I lay my head on your shoulder, and as I close my eyes, I remember the laughter, the smiles, the fun, the no troubles, with you.

The night may seem lonesome,
for some, yet the moon is like their friend, some talk to her, or wish upon a star, and yet others wait so patiently that maybe, their lover is also talking to the moon, hoping they’ll meet soon. By talking to the moon, would she reveal me a clue of where you are in this world, as I am so bored.

As that’s why I hold you so close,
as you are my best friend, and as we eat half burnt marshmallows, & as we sip our hot chocolate, this can only feel right, with you.

As I bury my body with your
warmest blanket, having you as my company, I’m no longer cold.

You are the only one,
who can take the chill off my bones, even at the most coldest of days. If I am with you, the fireplace of my own heart can be lit up, and I’ll just feel right at home.

You are the one, who I could talk to,
all night, and you’ll be there to listen, & until one of us eventually falls asleep and let the night pass by, while we are still in each other’s embrace, you lay your head on mine, as I lay my head on yours, and I smile, because you’ve made everything, worthwhile.


Pink Rose

When I look at a pink rose,
I think of a young girl who would
smile & think of a lovely young man
who would look at her the same way,
she looks at a rose in awe.

But, this time she didn’t think of him,
this time, she could love her every petal.
Despite her wounds, it helped her settle.
The shadow of that rose,
is what’s hidden & what’s closed,
it’s a feeling, it’s a thought, it’s an emotion
that doesn’t glow.

It stays within her own thorns and battles,
But, what’s a rose without a thorn?
It had to be the way it was born,
So, who is she without it?
Her thorn is her own struggle & pain,
but what’s a romance without a
little bit of a tear?
A little drop of water,
will make a rose grow.

Crying, is self care.

So cry, that’s the only thing for her
to feel whole again.


Love Poem, For You

Just like the moon,
as the night sleeps.
I’d be alone again, & I
ask myself, “what time is it?” it’s
past 3:am, & the sun will rise
oh so soon, & I am feeling, so hopeless.
But there’s one person on my mind,


“The moon is beautiful, isn’t?” he said.
Oh, how I’d dream that you’d look at me,
the way that you’ll look at it
with glistening eyes & smile, “yes it,
truely is” I replied, & without breaking eye
contact, I shed a tear
down my face, as I cry

Will you ever look at me?

You’d only see me as the sun sets, at dawn
right by your side, like it’s just as if time
doesn’t exist for us, but once more,
this is another goodbye.
As the sun rises again at dusk,

I’d be gone again, & I don’t
want to be gone, too long.

But, we weren’t meant to be,
& I guess, I was just too blind to see it.
You were like those warm mornings,
that you’d wake up and hear the rain pouring,
pouring down, & I was like those cold nights,
that a cup of coffee would feel just right,
I’d live for gloomy midnights &
you’d live for misty daytimes.

My heart aches as he was the sun,
& I was the moon.

Yet, I waited to patiently for those
rare days, just maybe, just maybe…

we’ll might co exist peacefully,
& be together, in harmony.


One Starry Night

One Starry Night,
I stayed awake, curled up in my blanket
I see a half eaten piece of a cheesecake,
on my bedside table, & I took one last bite.
It’s what I love to eat & bake,
when I think of you.

As the stars glisten in the diamond sky,
I used to think the moon was made of cheese.
But that wasn’t true, it’s only a fantasy.
So as the weeks go by, after another
my tears gather on my cheeks, & I do not
want to fall asleep, not even a little.

One Starry Night,
I couldn’t seem to bring myself
away from its beauty.

As I stare into the night upon
countless hours, I begin to have
hallucinations. Is that why,
I thought that the moon was made of cheese?
But I guess, it’s just a figment of my


Once Upon A Winter’s Dream

Once upon a winter’s dream,
nothing is ever as it seems,

I was somewhere else,
but, all I remember was

It was snowing for the first time
I was with you, watching it fall.

Why is it so beautiful? It was like
a warm goodbye to autumn,

& I cried for a longing embrace.
As a snowflake falls on my window sill,

It was as if time stood still? I caught
the snowflake on my hand &

I held it so tight so that I wouldn’t
feel so alone. I just couldn’t let it escape,

not this time, cause it’s mine.
As I hold it close to my heart,

I knew this dream could last a lifetime.
As I let it go, it was time to move on.

Seasons come & go, but
this dream won’t,

As the next winter comes around,
I hope you’ll hold on to that snowflake,

that I had held,
missing you.


Let Me Cry With You.

As our world weeps over war & crime,
you’d know, a child is somewhere crying.
Oh, how’d I wish it could stop?

My heart could no longer cope from it’s evil.
From chaotic police brutality, & sounds of
guns in the daytime. To house break ins &
robberies, by night.

This is no longer our, home.
This can’t ever sit right in my eyes.

A child could only hold tight in his mother’s
arms & hope to be unharmed.

He could walk to school,
despite, the cruelness of this world & it’s evil,
& continue on with their daily routine, of maybe, eating their favourite breakfast cereal or reading their favourite book while ignoring the news on tv, violence & protests, but let’s not, forget about the rest.

This is no longer an universe of romance.
It’s losing, it’s heart… less… & less.

When will our dying world,
have a change of heart?

A mother holds their child close,
while counting stars. & the outside world
is just pulling each other a part.

You’d have to realise,
there’s a child somewhere crying.

Oh, how’d I wish to see a smile.
Let me cry, with you.



As the rain pours down,
a smile can turn to a frown.
But to me… I love it… I love the sound.
I could drown into it like a lovely tune.

But, I wish it wouldn’t have
stopped so soon…

As it was night time,
I was dropped off at a station,
and the rain was pouring, falling, & dropping
on strangers belongings as they were walking.
But, as I stood there, under the shelter,
feeling under the weather…

I’ve never felt much better.

As the rain pours down,
it’s the only noise now, pattering so softly.
The rain, it calms me;
it’s a melody from above.

I’ve ever felt so loved with rain.
But, if it’s a lovely tune,

I cannot complain.


Dear Heart: I Love U.

Dear Heart,

You precious thing
You are loved & gentle,
You & me, are settle.

Dear Heart,

You delightful thing
You are alluring & strong,
You could never do wrong.

Dear Heart,

Fear not, love

You are pure & kind,
You & me are divine.




Just like, if the stars align, we are two souls,
aching for each other’s presence while we are both two worlds apart.

You are living the provincial life, as im here living quite the opposite. I let out a small laugh as I know, my absence is only for a short time, so I know it’s going to be, alright, so there’s no need to cry.

I don’t know if our generation of youth believes in fate but it’s quite a show when it happens, it’s a different kind of glow, like that moment when you’re at a church mass & you’re surrounded by strangers who are unfamiliar, & you’re sitting down with your mother completely unaware that you’ve captured someone’s heart just by walking down the aisle, & they’d ask their friend beside them like “oh, she’s pretty! who is she?” but that was only one moment in time, & it simply, made me smile, as he looked at me as if I was a rare gem, but there’s so much pain in his heart as well, because in your eyes, I was quite a sight that you can’t forget, like it’s been 5 years, & it hurts that you’d still look at me as if im an artwork that you’d admire from a mile away, when we’ve both know that I couldn’t stay, & what am I supposed to do to make you look the other way? and from afar, you’re probably searching for me in every woman.

All I want is for you to remember me, like you’d know what kind of flower you’ll give to your mother or I want you to remember me like you’ll pick out a white rose when all of the rest are in red. So even if it would take a few more years until I could book a ticket & arrive at home, with you, only fate will determine if we see each other again... but as of right now, there’s nothing that we could do but continue longing for each other’s embrace, as I don’t know what is supposed be right? should one soul chase the other or wait?

But all I know is that it’s never too late to just escape & go to where you heart takes you but for now, all I could do is continue missing him while he ache’s for my return.

I believe that nobody gets sent to anyone by accident, but it could only be fate, if we meet again.




When I first met love, Love was spontaneous.

It was late night phone calls & early morning texts. It was like, texting each other after work to watch a movie or to meet each other to eat takeaway food or visit each other to watch a Netflix show.

It was happiness that I’d never known. It was perfect, but then love changed.

Love, was like stopped conversations about our future, & it was like stopped conversations about feelings. It was like stopped conversations about how’s their day or if they had enough sleep. It was so different. Just like ourselves, sometimes.

Love, wasn’t being it’s usual self. Love, was just wasn’t love, rather it was really just lust?

It was the idea of loving the feeling of romance, rather than romance itself of it all. It’s that feeling of a soul loving the idea of closure but the other, to feel completely in love with the idea of being in love.

So, the two hearts had to be completely apart,
But that’s the beauty of love, & it’s art. If two souls, are meant to be, They’ll find their way back, no matter how far.

& then, a few years later, love showed itself again. Love, was real this time, beautiful, & different.

This time, love was shared feelings between a stranger & plans. It was late nights spent together, & early morning breakfasts. It was a sense of belonging to one’s place or person, everything was perfect.

But once again, as the universe continues to be,
As the world continues to be busy, so does love.
& we’ve barley had any time to even realise.
& we’ve barely had the chance to say goodbye.
& all we did, was cry.

Love, didn’t have time to talk, love didn’t have time to fight for me.

It was still love but not so much, as I needed it to be. It had to be like, I don’t want anybody else. It had to leave, but I know, love, will be back.


Love Me, When I Am In Full Bloom.

Love Me When I Am In Full Bloom,
Not When I Am Still, Blooming.

Walking to a street of damp pathways with you, we walk hand to hand, exchanging sweet glances to one another, we notice that under our leather boots, we step on the petals that had been stepped on & it’s like I’m in a garden of a grandma’s home, as I can smell the aroma of moss and roses, and I wonder to myself, “where is it coming from?” and you look at me with a confused look and ask, “what are you talking about?” And I respond with a surprised reaction by saying, “can’t you smell it? I’m smelling flowers, are you not?” and as we ease the awkwardness from that conversation, you take out your camera, & I make poses under this maple tree, and as the burnt orange leaves, start to fall from the tree, you can no longer take a proper photo at all, and you let out a sigh, but if you’d look up at the sky, there’s no rain, so why don’t you smile & let’s just walk a little more for a little while, and as we walk into this flower shop, I can’t help myself but stop and admire the beautiful aroma of flowers, but this time it’s much closer, and I knew it, “Ah ha, I knew I was smelling the aroma, I wasn’t being crazy” you let out a chuckle, & I close my eyes & I suddenly inhale the scents & I fall more in love, & I see the vines of entangled clematis on the wooden fence, outside the shop, I see orchids on top of a shelf with their own small little vases, daisies on top of the counter along with their other friends giving light and beauty to the place, lavender sitting by the verandah, and a flower bed of roses and carnations beside the sunflowers, and then the florist looks at me, and she says “oh, you look so lovely today, why don’t you purchase a flower, my dear? I return a smile to her and say “oh, it will certainly make my day. There’s just all so admirable, I don’t know what to choose.” but before I could even think, you hold me close from behind and whisper to me, “pick the red carnation, or the red rose.” And I look at you with a questionable look and wonder “why?” as the florist admires our public affection, you pick the red carnation flower and you put behind my hair from my left ear and place the carnation flower behind my ear, and you simply say, “it, just suits you.” The florist expression is like as if I am her daughter who invited her boyfriend to her mother’s flower shop, and as I stand there in awe of your compliment, I choose the red carnation flowers and put them into a vase, along with different coloured daisies, roses, and Camellia flowers, and it’s a beautiful spring, my heart starts to sing & the birds chirping outside, and as we purchase it, we say our goodbyes and as we say our farewell to the florist, she stops us at the front door, and she says “here’s some seeds if you want to grow them as well, and don’t forget you are a flower too.” I smile back at her and I say “thank you for being so wonderful, welcoming & kind. I’ll definitely come and visit again.” As we leave the flower shop, I can’t help but smile so much at the flowers that I am bringing home, I’m like a 5 year old with a happy heart after receiving a flower from a stranger. You drop me off at my doorstep, you inhale the scent of the plant, & you suddenly start to fall in love as well, it’s a scent that is so unique and adoring, it’s a perfume scent a young woman like me, would love to have, as we both say goodbye to each other, I come home and I place my vase and flowers beside my window where the sun light rays could shine upon them, and as I see you outside my window, I blush and blow a kiss as you get into your car & drive off.

I water the plants and with the seeds that the florist had given me, I remember my mother giving me a blue vase with my name carved on it, I washed it with warm water and then after rinsing, I put it next to the flowers, and I add some soil until it fills almost halfway, and I sprinkle the seeds on top the soil, and I water them every morning, afternoon, and night and if it rains, I change their location and put it outside to give its most moisture as it deserves, and each and every visit of your arrival, it grows a bit more and it grows, grows until it blossoms to a beautiful carnation flower, and you notice it from downstairs on the street, “oh, it’s growing, it’s suddenly growing into a flower, it’s blossoming.” He said. You come to visit and check on the flower each and everyday, to ask “how are you going?” “How’s, our little one?” But, when you’re not around, I talk to the flower, having sweet talks as it’s also my best friend, when I am having a busy day, feeling alone, and if I just want someone to talk to, I’d say “good morning” and “good night” to it every day and I kept at it like a practice and not once have I missed a day to not talk to it, she is a wonderful company, she’s like my living heart, blossoming outside my body, that I can always have a conversation with and it’s like it can also speak to me as well, not verbally but in a way that it grows, and sways by the wind, because there’s no doubt that plants have feelings.

When I am feeling sad, it seems that it is also feeling down, and as your absence lingers on, it turns it’s head away from the sun, and faces the shadows, the dark corners of my window, and it had stopped growing, it looked completely lifeless, almost dead, it had lost it’s magic, it’s image, and even with water, it’s as if we are in the shower, with our head down letting the water fall on our back, with closed eyes not realising that we are actually crying, thinking that nothing can help us heal. But, that isn’t true? There’s something that I must do, and then as I cry out loud to maybe, the dead carnation flower can possibly hear me, I cry and continue to, until suddenly a tear drop that falls down my cheek, & it falls into a petal, it drips on to the soil, and then it rises it’s head up and slowly by surely, my eyes start to widen, as it starts to blossom again, it’s black edges had disappeared and then it gives me a little hug, knowing that everything is going to be okay, “stop, crying because it hurts me too.””I am okay, I’m healing, so stop crying.” I stop my tears and I breathe in and out, and suddenly the night turns to daytime and the sun shines on it’s head once again, catching it’s light and rays as much as possible, although now the other flowers that I had chosen from the flower shop also gives my little lonely one, a warm hug as the other seeds continue to grow, I see a little red rose start to rise from the soil, and I think to myself that I must love my own self as the roses, carnations, lavenders, camellias, and daises I had bought, it’s a mirror of my own heart in full bloom, full of love and light, the one I had planted as a seed, is my own heart learning to fall in love with myself again after it’s been neglected, and not well looked after, completely broken, lifeless, and weak. We often would want someone else to quench our thirst like as if we are their plant, but I think back and remember what the florist had told me before I left the flower shop, as she had said “don’t forget you are a flower too.” and that’s all I need to remember to feel okay again, as your absence no longer worries me, I’ve learnt to water my own plant, it’s going to be okay, I am going to be okay.



Floating on the abyss, upon the
emerald pond, there’s a girl,
in a white gown, with
a bronze, brunet hair, who lies down
on the emerald pond, like it’s a bed.

She lies there, so peacefully, like a
feather on a bird bath, and sometimes,
I see her wake, up
the white swan’s dance, with elegance,
with the morning sun, it’s quite a sight.

The white swan, it’s wings, it unfolds,
like a love story that is, told and
It moves with the, wind
in harmony with the soft, waltz tune,
with grace that is, the goddess in perfect sync

as she sways like, a white swan,
like a ballerina who is, twirling and

with her head up, high with pride
arms wide open like an, open book,
it’s a beautiful work of art.
The water stays in balance, with her
with calmness like a steady stage
where the ballerina, steps on.