sometimes i am a
relentless, untiring,
wave ebbing and
flowing to the
shore, back and
forth, back and
forth.
but today i am
transforming and
evaporating from
the sea to the
sky, yes, i have
surrendered and
turned myself into
a possessive sun.
kindness and
attention are
now my rays that
i won’t let you kiss and
have anymore for
i am tired, tired, tired,
of going back
and forth, back
and forth, without
receiving what i
always give.
love.
—
Over an hour. That is how long I have been staring at my screen flashing an unfinished article I should finish before the day ends.
Eight tabs. That’s how many articles and resources I have read to be able to start writing and get my mind do what it’s supposed to do.
Numerous words written and deleted. That’s how I have been trying (badly) to write and write and write.
But nothing. My mind is not at it.
Like a boat freely sailing, wandering, on the vastness of the endless sea, my mind seems to be here but nowhere, here but elsewhere. It would be ungrateful to say I feel like a criminal jailed to be stuck in my office chair but that’s how I have been feeling lately.
It took me years to land a job related to my course, Journalism. I have been here for almost three years now and yes, it is fulfilling, tiring, but exciting. But there are days when you want to be as free as a bird. To be a writer tucked under her blanket just reading and writing.
It might be because of age but lately, I have been yearning for a simpler life. A life in a quaint house, by the sea and near the forest where I can wander and wonder. A life without a rushed phase. A life not limited by deadlines. A life not commanded by corporate bosses.
But that kind of life, as simple as it may sound, is too expensive. Expensive because you need money while living a life away from the city and the 9-to-5 job. Because I have responsibilities, and I have a life that isn’t only about me.
It’s been almost two months since I released my debut book, and I am quietly wishing and praying for its success because I dream to be like Lang Leav. Living in New Zealand, writing. But the road to becoming like her seems foggy and bumpy. Am I losing faith? Maybe.
I may not be hungry to make millions for my book, but I am dreaming of living a life as a writer. A creative one. Not someone locked inside a corporate box. But then as the eldest daughter, I got to move. I got to earn. For the family.
How can I pursue my passion and provide for the family? That I have yet to find out. And yes, I am trying to knock doors and windows to turn my dreams into reality.
Like what Ms. Maya Angelou told me again last week, “All great achievements require time.” I need patience and endurance. But most of all faith.
Faith that my time will come. Faith that my book’s time will come. Faith that everything happens for a reason. Faith that no time is wasted. Faith in things I cannot see as of the moment. Faith that He is moving and guiding me.
Easier said than done, I’m trying. Every single day.
For now, let me get back and write the article I need to finish today.
i remember you
when the rooftop laughs
once the raindrops
start their tickling
session,
i remember how
you write about
the monsoon’s
crystal kids.
how they made
your lines dance,
in love,
in grief,
in hope,
in faith.
i remember you
in drizzles of surprising
summer rains,
when the supposed
parched earth
was kissed by the
mysterious, impromptu
shower,
when you write about
your endless love
for your father.
i remember you,
when the heavy clouds
let go and cry,
i remember you,
a friend from afar,
i haven’t seen
through the eye,
but has touched
my heart,
my soul,
in ways no hands
can ever did.
i remember you,
and pray for you,
when it rains.
i hope this friendship
we have,
forever remains.
—
Happy happy happy happy birthday to my dear Mich of Poetry in Motion. May ou good good God continue to bless you and your beautiful family! Sending hugs to you! ❤
P.S. I hope to see you soon! (with Maria! :D)
—
he tried to give me
the kiss of eternity,
like a parched flower
he thought i need his shower,
but i don’t.
i felt my warm skin
against the cold wall,
as he pushed me deeper
to surrender my all,
but i don’t.
i sank, scratched my nails
against his back,
he tried to stop me
with a full-blown smack,
but i don’t.
before he gave
another strong blow,
i kicked hard
his tummy’s below,
yes, i do.
before my eardrums
cracked in his screams,
i pulled his gun’s trigger
and ended his dreams,
yes, i do.
for i am a woman
who doesn’t have a man,
but i won’t let anyone
to strip me to undone,
yes, i am.
now, ask me
if i am guilty,
of killing a monster
who could’ve killed me,
yes, i am.
—
lillian.
strip me slowly,
it’s fine, i’m ready,
for you.
in your lines, take me
mind, heart, soul, wholly,
not few.
for i’m the real me
when you, poetry
leaks through.
—
Victoria C. Slotto.
on the day when her grandchildren will be sitting on her lap asking for the bravest thing she has done, she will be looking back at this moment.
she’s in no danger. no noise. no death-defying acts. but with peaceful tree-whistles, lullaby-like bird-tunes, embrace-like forest air. and her heart and mind who were both dauntless enough to walk out of a life in the concrete jungle and be with the one she prefers, a simpler, slower life.
she will tell them, for only the brave knows living is not owning. living is making each breath counts. with money or without.
the thing about sadness is
it’s like a thick rain cloud
clogged inside your throat
blocking your breath,
your words,
even your screams.
you want to melt it,
get rid of it,
but it becomes bigger and bigger
choking you further and further.
but the thing about sadness is
when you finally surrender and bask
on its harsh downpour,
its painful drops
will help you grow,
will help you rise,
will help you heal, until
the suffocating cloud
finally bowed, finally bowed.
and the thing about sadness
being a dark rain cloud is it’s
living in a fading permanence.
it will pass.
it will fade.
but you, you are the sometimes defeated
yet always fighting sun.
you will rise again and again,
until no cloud of pain remains.
until no cloud of pain remains.
—
—
kim881.
notice how the
verdant blanket
look greener
after a stormy night,
notice how the
sun’s glorious rays
shine extra brighter
after a pitch black night,
notice how your
fragile, fearful heart
beats braver
after losing a fight.
for in failing,
in losing,
we grow.
—
whimsygizmo.
the noisy alarm dings,
like the starting bell of boxing,
another fight,
another day,
begins.
with the routine task
of waking,
eating,
commuting,
working,
eating,
working,
commuting,
eating,
sleeping,
repeat,
repeat,
repeat,
may I not lost
my value,
my worth,
my purpose,
my dreams,
under the haystack
of mundanes
in the world of
routines,
before my life’s
final alarm
rings.
—
—
i am the flower and he is the bee. the part 1 is here.my bee, that kiss was sweeter than honey,
brimming with love, i’d choose it ceaselessly.
but after you let go, I saw the look in your eyes,
gazing at another pretty blue bathing in sunrise.
the wind remains warm, but I am freezing inside,
as you fly towards your next flower bride.
i have no choice but to let you go freely,
because I, however beautiful, will never be your only.
angry on me is my favorite flower,
she doesn’t know, how hungry i’m at this hour.
for survival, i might fly to another blue,
but for love, i will always come back to only you.
the queen bee was angry, for i brought only a little honey,
allow me to go to the flower brides, oh they are so many.
your nectar, though only a little, gives me life,
however you misunderstand me, you’ll be my only wife.
—
—
Shubhodeep Roy is a new addition to WordPress. 😉 And he tried dVerse Poetics Recently too. 🙂 Check him out here. 
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