Browse Tag by literature
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.

 

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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Poetry, Writing Entries, Writings

Descent

I think I am descending again,
on a train of thought
I assumed I’m over with
long ago when I learnt how to smile
and believed the Sun
when it’s behind those clouds.

But here I am again,
counting every pearls
and trickles of blood
mesmerize at the brightness of its promise
yet destroying me all at once
and all over again.

I am descending again
and this is my fiction, a truth in a lie
a hope in wickedness
and soon
everything will be swirling and spinning
and I’ll be one with vertigo.

Who will catch me by then
when I fall?
When I fall, if i fall,
I hope the ground
will be as soft as a burlap
woven in silk and honey threads.

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Here’s my take for #FWF Free Write Friday: Word Bank using the following words: train – burlap – fiction – pearls – vertigo.

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. 🙂

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.

 

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Inspired by the lovely prompt from #FWF Beautiful People

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

Auburn hair

I remember the first time I saw an angel. It was night, and I was wishing on a falling star.

Those are the times that my heart still beats the rhythm of myths and dragons, of fairies and fairytales, and of angels and fallen stars. My heart is still so young and naïve then that I would believe I could fly and grow wings out of my back if someone would tell me so.

He kissed my tears away while my eyes are closed as I wished upon a falling star.

“Be brave,” he whispered. His lips grazed lightly on my forehead, and I heard the first stirrings of my innocent heart.

I caught a glimpse of him before he completely vanished into thin air.

He has beautiful auburn hair.

Coal black wings.

– – –

In response to Inspiration Monday: Angel Hair.

Poetry, Random Thoughts, Writings

I like you better before

I love the way you smile
The way your face seems to light up,
Whenever I see you.
I love the way your hands
Enclosed on my wrist last night.
But I like you better before
Those unassuming angel’s eyes
And innocent smiles.
Or have you change already?
The way I must have change
In just a year without you.

You complained about her
And for a moment I feel glad,
I heard you broke up with her
But I doubt you really have the guts.

In any case,
I’m not going back there
I’m not going back with you
And spent many sleepless nights
Again thinking of you.

It isn’t about you or him
Or about her
It isn’t even about God
Or how you seem to be there
Just when everything feels right.

I’m not all right.
I’m not yet all alright.
You must have known that
Since you pretty much know everything
On when to turn up
And when to disappear.
Or is it only when
I connect to the source?

In which case,
Are you the serpent
I should avoid
Or an angel
I should hold?

By the way
Your voice has change
I do not recognize it anymore.
I like you better before
So let’s keep it that way.