Browse Tag by free writing
365, Poetry, Writings

The calm after the storm

She used to believe that love
should feel like
a storm,
passionate,
raw and raging.

But so many storms
have come
and left her
more broken than before

Now, she looks for a love
that feels like
a night
after the storm
is over.

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365, Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

I will look for you in every places I’ll go

Millions and millions of soul
may roam this earth
But I’ll still look for
The boy
with the dark brown eyes
and a ready
smirkish grin
who once
held my wings
from completely falling apart
as I collided on earth
with smoldering soul
and a burnt out life.

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Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

A Heart Full

I carry within me a heart full
of stories and magic and new beginnings,
a heart full of hope and trust
and of love that never knows how to fade nor end.

So when you’ve grown weary and tired
of this world’s never ending charades
when putting on your daily mask
became too much to bear,

Remember me
For I shall carry yours within mine
and I’ll lend you mine
when yours start to fail.

 

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Confused

When you did your best
but your best is not enough
When you pour your life and blood and insides out
and you sacrifice everything else
and it is still not enough
When every step up is two steps down
and everything you do is an uphill trudge.

Shouldn’t it be something like
Do your best and everything else will turn out okay?
Yet life doesn’t seem to work that way

Suddenly you found life has its own rules
and regulations
that you are not aware of,
and pitstops
and hidden tunnels
and sinking holes
that you never sign up for.

I’m confused, you say.
How did everything turn out like this?
It used to be rainbows and fairs
and cotton candies and laughters that
never seem to end.
When did the rules change?
Now everything else you do
seems to turn into ashes
and dust moats
and a pile of stinking garbage
for the future generations to tread on.

Why did everything change?, you asked
but no answers came,
just the sound of the howling wind passing by
and with every minute
that ticks
and tocks
you are left with a growing anxiety
that never stops.

 

– – –

In response to Daily Post: Confused and Inspiration Monday: Dust Moat

Prose, Random Thoughts, Writing Entries, Writings

Explaining sadness

It is the feeling of tiredness that creeps on you even if you haven’t done anything all day long. It is the crying spells that overtakes you when you are finally left all alone after a long day of pretending to be okay. It is the waking up every 2AM with your thoughts all jumbled up and morose. It is the desire to sleep all the time, to stubbornly stay on bed, and be continually lost in dreams that never makes sense. It is wanting to be somewhere that isn’t really here on the here and now. It is the staring contest at the ceiling, when you finally found a temporary peace in finding no thoughts, no chaos, no feelings, just a deep hollowed numbness at the center of your being.

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Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Dreams and Coffee Talks

If we were having coffee, I would tell you about my dreams. I would tell you how I used to dream of being in a circus surrounded by lively music and people wearing colorful dresses and tunics, people that work together and bonded as family. I would tell you I dreamed of being a trapeze artist, always up high in the air, flying from loops to loops, light as air, and feet never touching the ground. I would tell you that I love heights. I love the feeling of falling and the feeling of excitement and hope it gives me, the hope that maybe when I jump, this time I would fly.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that maybe I have a gypsy soul in me, the kind that can read palms and sees the future, the kind that is affected by the moon’s waxing and waning, the kind that would kiss a stranger because she has already met him in one of her dreams.

If we were having coffee, I would also tell you that I grew up shy, that I have soft bones, loose joints, and weak heart, and I am affected by loud noises and music. I would also tell you that my dreams are mostly nightmares, that my moods are worsts than the moon, and that I have seen him in my dreams, but when I met him, he’s already kissing someone else.

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Prose, Writings

Hearts and Empires

“What are you about?” she asked.
“Conquering empires and lands,” he said proudly. “And you little miss?”
“Nothing much,” she said sighing. “Just conquering hearts.”

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Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Sun-kissed

Today, I will convert his winter smile to summer laughter
I will transform his cold translucent skin to a warm glowing ember
I will turn his blue frozen lips to a bloodied hungry mess.
We will bathe and swim and he will smell like the ocean’s mist
and his skin will taste like sea salt and sunshine
His grey eyes will reflect the clear blue sky
And for a moment he will thought that his eyes were blue too.
The ocean will whisper to him the secrets of the universe
And I will look in his eyes, hoping he hears and understands.
We will lay in the sand with my head in his chest, as I listen..

Today, I will give a life to his non beating heart.

 


My entry for this week’s #FWF Free Write Friday: Quote Prompt.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

To forgetting and remembering

I could almost hear again the snow falling, landing softly on the cold concrete floor of that unknown alley. He was walking away from me, and I couldn’t help but to just stare at him, at his broad shoulders, and his slow walking gait as if something was paining him. I could almost hear him sigh every now and then.

He was walking away, and I had a vague feeling that he’s walking away from me.

I wished, even until now, that he would stop and turn so I could see his face. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He walked on and on, as I stared on and on until his figure vanished and melted and blurred with the vast whiteness under the night sky.

That’s my mind’s first memory and probably my heart’s last.

– – –

#FWF Free Write Friday: Time and Place Scenario entry.

Poetry, Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Casualties

rain-gif

I.
It was raining hard when you left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
You held her hand,
As I held mine.

II.
It was raining hard when she left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I wished it was her hand,
I was holding.

III.
It was raining hard when he left me
the ship we’re on was about to sink
and all the gang was there.
I was holding his hand,
But she was holding his heart.

– –
My entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

On broken shards

He walks on eggshells
whenever she’s around
While she,
has been walking on broken shards
and glasses of an unknown future
all her life
cutting deeply
to the soles of her feet
leaving fresh blood footprints
wherever she goes.

Trust me, he says.
She looks at the caked of dried blood on her feet.

“Why should I when you have only threaded on eggshells?”

– – –

Here’s my entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: Trust. I admit trust is a difficult topic for me and I had real difficulty in coming up with something for this prompt. 🙂

Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Tattoed Soul

The words curled around her tongue
vanishing before she gets a taste of it
Her hands are inked with sentences
Her stomach are filled with phrases unknown
Every bit of her skin
Are marked with ancient lines
Four lines, five lines, six lines
And she lost count of the others on her back
They called it stanzas
From the World Before
When words were freely written and spoken
On things called books and papers
With an ink that must be the same
As the one inscribed on her soul.
She is an obscenity
A walking contradiction
A curse in the post human language era
As she bears all the words and languages of the world
So that all can see through her
The beauty that words can make
(Yet none can read nor understand)
Even though none can read nor understand.

She wears her soul on her skin.
Still, no one can read her.

– – –
I’ve been gone for many weeks! Finally, here’s my entry for #FWF Free Write Friday: O me!, O life!

On Dreams, Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Forever

He never listened. He hears, but he never listened to her. She wails and weeps, and pleads but he does nothing.

The first time they met was eons and thousands of centuries ago, in the beginning of time when Earth isn’t yet, and when their wings immortal still reflect the brilliant pureness of their souls.

But things soon changed, when Earth and Man are created.

One-third of them fell. All with different yet mostly shared reasons. Some fell due to pride, others with growing greed in their souls, several fell due to corporeal lust, some with the passion to rule and know more, and a select few to have earthly wisdom and experiences like that of Man.

She was one of them.

But unlike the others, she was the only one who fall for this reason: she falls in the idea of love, an all-consuming burning earthly love.

“Let a man love me.” Her wish had damned her.

And so all of them were cast out of Heaven, and was hurled down to the Earth. She was the last one to be thrown out.

He was the judge at that time, the appointed executor of the judgments among their kind.

She was at her knees while he was standing behind her, reading her sentence. His voice was cold, impassioned, and almost cruel.

As he was reading, the ground started shaking, and for a moment, she feared not for her soul but for the safety of this place she considered Home.

With one last look, she pleaded to him even if she knew that he couldn’t possibly do anything to change her punishment. Yet still, with a soul that starting to become more human than a being with wings, she hoped. She hoped that he would at least look at her with pity or sorrow for her plight.

But her eyes were met with a cold chilling stare. The ground beneath her collapsed and she fell.

She fell with a half-cry of his name in her mouth.

– –

Fast forward a million and thousands of thousands of years, they met again.

She is a human now, or so she thinks. With no recollection of whatsoever of the past, and with a soul that must be so stubborn that she made the same mistake again.

This time, she wished the opposite wish of what she desired before.

“Let an angel love me.”

What a stubborn soul. He said. It took me forever to make the tides turn and make her first wish come true.

So he never listened. He hears, but he never listened to her. She wails and weeps, and pleads but he does nothing.

He would not let her fall without catching her this time.

And this is true: he loves her, with an all-consuming burning earthly love.

– –
Inspired by #FWF Free Write Friday: Quote Prompt and my previous dream.

Poetry, Random Thoughts, Writings

Reality

I realize that I just built you up
inside my mind, the way others
had built me inside theirs.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Je nais se quoi

She loves the smell of old books, the way it has a power to transport her back in time. She loves running her fingers through its ancient pages, hoping it may whisper to her the forgotten secrets of the universe.

She loves looking at the stars at night, when the sky is clear and the moon is shining full and bright. It makes her believe that magic is within her grasp and miracles are within every shooting star.

She believes in fairies and dragons, and angels most of all. It fascinates her endlessly giving colors and curves to the squares and straight lines of this material world.

Yet not be mistaken. She isn’t all sweetness and pink frosting, for she’s nowhere near.

Every night, she gets nightmares and she ends up waking at the middle with tears-stained pillow, with death in her eyes, and curses of tragedy in her words.

She knows that light and darkness are created hand in hand. That demons exist as much as angels do. She knows darkness tangibility in and out like the lines of her palm, she even kissed it passionately at centuries past, yet this does not stop her to be afraid.

When you see her, she’ll be looking straight in your eye, unwavering and searching. And you will wonder what she is made of. Is it light or darkness? Is it a fairy godmother’s wish or a witch’s curse? A pixie’s dust or a mortal’s ash? An angel’s breath or a demon’s fury?

Every time you think of her, you will wonder. But you will never quite grasp the answer.

But by this, you will know it’s her.

You will know it’s her when you suddenly realize that you’re not looking at her eyes anymore, but you are looking straight through her, and what you see isn’t her but yourself. The best you can possibly be.

She is beautiful, indeed. Otherworldly beautiful.

 

– –
Inspired by the lovely prompt from #FWF Beautiful People