Venessa Yeh
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Image by Mier Chen from Pixabay

black void, ocean sighs,
blue stars glow in the water —
magic in the tides.

My boyfriend and I saw bioluminescence for the first time in person this summer at the beach. It was breathtaking and reminded me that the universe is alive, and it breathes through each expression of itself.

Although life can feel ordinary and routine, there is so much of the world I have yet to see, so many things I have yet to experience. Being comfortable with not knowing all the answers gives me courage and inspiration to see this life through to the very end.

The universe, our minds, and our hearts are the same in that they were made to expand infinitely.

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Photo by Aperture Vintage on Unsplash

I saw her through the riptide
of a thousand memories —

smoke stained cars,
pounding bass,
dusk and shadow leaves.

the electric touch
of a stranger’s skin,
bursting into a million

sunshine, soft sand,
cold water, feelings breathing,
rising and falling, with the sea.

city lights, ocean side,
café days and starry nights,
playing the same songs on repeat.

she was an idea.
she was real.

she was the totality
of all these things.

the brain is a well-oiled machine
but can it answer who she is
within this infinite dream?

This poem was inspired by a dream I had the other night. I wrote an unfinished poem in my dream with a lot of words rhyming with the sound “yee”, but forgot most of it. The only phrase I was left with was “well-oiled machine”; and in my dream, as I felt myself awakening, I told myself to later finish the poem ending with the word “dream”.

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Photo by Road Trip with Raj on Unsplash

when the low tide falls
with the midnight sky,
as the sand pipers sleep,
from the depths of the sea

I’ll rise.

I’ll step into that concrete jungle
where neon lights cast shadows
for sinners and lost souls to hide.

quarter past two
under the crescent moon,
I’ll wait for him at Café Blue’s.

he’ll order coffee
with three creams, one sugar,
writing in his journal with melancholy vigor.

half past three
he’ll drink chamomile tea,
then tip the waitress and leave quietly.

he’ll walk past empty bars,
on broken cement,
through dark alleys,
up to his apartment.

when daylight creeps
and he’s fast asleep,
I’ll erase the words
that speak of…

A pair of haikus inspired by my boyfriend’s words.

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and yes, he never
read poetry, but he was
poetry to me.

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and yes, I never
read poetry, but she was
poetry to me.

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sending you a virtual sweet potato + cinnamon brown sugar frosting cupcake I baked ❤

Dearest reader,

It has been a year since I first joined Medium in October of 2019. Within this year, I got laid off, found a new job (which I love), moved to a better (though smaller) apartment, transitioned to working from home that same week due to the beginning of quarantine, and found a home here at Scribe for my writing.

In the midst of the pandemic and protests and fires and having Trump as president, I have surprisingly also greatly healed from my anxiety symptoms, which I talked about in my first story on Medium. …

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Photo by Walter Randlehoff on Unsplash

stories like water
stuck within the mind’s faucet;
the handle — one word.

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Photo by Taras Chernus on Unsplash

if you laugh and say
giants are only from fairytales,
you have never imagined
what it is to be an ant
looking up at you.

if you laugh and say
little elves are only myths,
you have never imagined
what it is to be a tall oak tree
looking down at you.

if you laugh and say
that there is no magic here,
you have never stopped
to revel in the alchemy of you.

you who are born of stardust,
electricity and chemistry.

if I asked you to close your eyes
and imagine now,

the full moon,
the taste of honey,
the touch of sunshine,
the sound of ocean waves,
the smell of cinnamon in the fall…

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Photo by Juskteez Vu on Unsplash

Often I became quiet. People would ask me if I was okay, probably because I looked worried or sad. This genuinely surprised me for I was neither.

After years of reflection, I realized that I became quiet when I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with all the worlds I’ve come into contact with.

Overwhelmed with wonder and curiosity of how each world was shaped.

Every time I came into contact with another world, I would be a part of it for a while. Exploring foreign terrains and swimming vast oceans. …

A cognitive neuroscientist explains that “we don’t just passively perceive the world, we actively generate it.”

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Photo by Todd Quackenbush on Unsplash

When someone tells you that you are the creator of your own reality, you might be skeptical. There is a certain degree of grandiose delusion in that statement — a sense that you can play God.

Furthermore, if everyone is the creator of their own reality, how are we able to live in a world with a shared one? Why do we bend to the rules of others? If we experience suffering or sickness or grief, is it because we want to?

The idea starts to seem rather silly. However, there is a powerful truth to it. You might not be able to bend the world at your will, but you do have the power to choose which reality you experience — because there is always more than one. …

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Photo by Ester Marie Doysabas on Unsplash

When I was little, my mother always asked me every summer where I wanted to travel to for vacation, and my answer would always be Disneyland.

I lived in a small town called Foster City in Northern California then, and the road trip would take six hours to drive to Anaheim, which I thought was Los Angeles. I thought Southern California was Los Angeles, just as some might think Northern California is San Francisco. The world was much simpler, though much bigger.

I loved the long car ride. My mother would carry me from our bed early in the morning before the sun was up into the car, where she laid out blankets and pillows. I would wake to the rising sun over golden fields as the car quietly rumbled away fast on interstate-5. …


Venessa Yeh

Software engineer who accidentally minored in philosophy. Likes to write code and poetry.

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