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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

Monday Musings: Something beautiful and cruel

The next time you question the existence of love, look into an old photograph. See how love is written from that fading black and white. Travel back in time when love was patient and slow. When you don’t need technology to keep up real time. Listen to an old song. Notice the way your eyes smile or how your heart beats with the music. A once inaudible sound now carries snippets of laughter and tears.

Do you still not see?

Love may have left the front door shut but some fragments will forever remain. Memories. These are our only evidence that something beautiful and cruel like love exist.


I am 99.9% done with re-categorizing my old posts and as I was checking my unpublished tab, I realize that there are still too many scattered thoughts that need my attention.

This one is from 2018 that I wrote for A to Z challenge. For some reason, I dropped the idea (hehe). I’m sharing it now since I have two girlfriends who currently might relate.

Pakigbisog by James Glendon

Gikapoy naka.
ayaw’g hunahunaa nga
kaya ra nimo tanang problema.
kay
di ka kusgan sa tanang panahon
ug sayop sila sa ilang giingong
dili ka masulub-on
kay ang tinuod
nag-inusara ra ka.
Ayaw isipa nga
kanimo adunay mutabang
kay
hakug  ang kalibutan.
Dili tinuod na
kini pagsulay lang
tuho-i na
magpabalin ang problema sa hangtud.
Undang na sa pagtoo nga
may igo kang katakos
hinumdumi nga
Ang kalampusan lisud makab-ot
sayop ang ideya nga
layo ka’g maabtan
kay ang tinuod
dinha ra ka kutob.
Hunong na sa pagtoo nga         
Makigbisog ka.

P.S. Now read the lines from the bottom to the top.


So, I’ve decided to continue this project of sharing poetry — written and spoken — that I believe deserve to be read, heard and felt. May this collection quench our thirst for inspiration and awaken our sleeping muse.

This piece is written by James Glendon, a Cebuano wanderer and wonderer who has a penchant for reverse poetry. The poem addresses anxiety and depression which are prevalent in today’s society. If only I could translate it to any language without jeopardizing its meaning and depth. Sigh.


Also, check out Home by Warsan Shire and The Prisoner of Chillon by Lord Byron for previous featured pieces. 😀

Taming Cats and Categories

Blog updates

Yesterday a black cat ignored me — again. It’s same stray who always lounge by the TGU bench in IT Park during afternoons. I feel envious to the point of sinful watching it laze around, enjoying the silence and cool wind, when we humans are at the end of time’s bending sickle.

If only we could have moments of carelessness too…

For the nth time, I tried to pet her. But she would not be tamed. So I turned to my phone, looked up my blog to see when was the last time I wrote about cats. Then, it dawned on me: I need to fix my site.

When I first started blogging, I didn’t want to be too technical. Never cared much about pages, categories, tags, plugins and whatnots. Even my site identity is slightly sloppy. All I care about was — and still is — the content. Blogging is more like virtual journal for me but as time passed, a lot of things happened. I started joining prompts to hone my writing. I kept adding new stuff to Poetry/Flash Fiction/Musings without caring that some posts might not fit under these three categories.

Which brings me to this project: re-categorizing my posts. Some of you might notice that I’ve added new pages and nested tabs on this site. I basically just added specific categories for poetry and writings for easy navigation, and dumped all posts with unused categories under Mishmash of Random Things. LOL!

As for the really new stuff, I’ve decided to share my bookish thoughts through book reviews and book talks — though I hope laziness won’t get in the way in the future. I’ve also added a main tab for my travels and resurrected (haha) Mouth+Piece where I share my favorite written and spoken poems from around the globe.

Overall, it’s still a work in progress. Now, back to tinkering! Have a great day 🙂

We paid the price for a bite

Photo by Giovanni Calia on Pexels.com

We paid the price for a bite
Rejected, cursed, forever blamed
When a predator creeps on an eerie night
Our voice is drowned with shame

Even sunlit fields bare witness
To starving lips that taste of lust
Every place we go, awake or asleep
Cross our legs, hide our breasts — we must

Bodies pried open in plain sight
With jokes, punchlines, lecherous gaze
And the lawman denies our every right
Hope is a meteor that never stays

What use is vox populi
When to power and money it fades?
Do I have strength within me
To bathe them in blood orange stain?


Written for MLMM’s Photo Challenge #322 and Wordle #197.

This one is a sequel to the poem I wrote last March, A Woman’s Bite. I need not go far to see the worsening plight of women when it comes to abuse, sexism and misogyny. I live in a country where those who have sworn to serve and protect the people blame women’s choice of clothes for sex crimes. We have a broadcaster who thinks the way women dress could led to inviting the beast. We have a lawyer who would bitch-slap a woman for having a mind of her own. And just when you thought nothing could go worse, we have a president who have a long list of sexist and demeaning remarks.

Writer’s Quote Wednesday – The Great Perhaps

Writer's Quote Wednesday

“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”

―François Rabelais

It is with heavy heart that I share this quote as I mourn for a colleague, a friend, and a kuya who is now off to seek his Great Perhaps. I cannot talk about life and death the way Albom or Coelho does, but I can wholeheartedly say the world lost another good man today. I could only wish he left us on a good time. Not during this cursed pandemic. But perhaps, God has far better plans. He may not be surrounded by the people whose lives he touched, but his soul will be surrounded by our love. 😦

The treasures we lost and found

Last night we talked about childhood
Walked down memory lane to recall past antics
You painted a picture of your early years:
Smart kid, chubby cheeks—
Probably a little too plump
coz you were constantly teased,
But you used your wit to you your advantage—
Traveled far and wide
Winning contests.
Here’s a boy who likes solving puzzles,
reading newspapers,
raising hands

You got a treasure trove of bests
And I wish I could say the same.

You see, I have very few memories of childhood
I have images lacking backstory
And voices with no picture in mind
At a young age, I was torn
Between two languages—
Tagalog and Bisaya, clashing,
twisting my tongue which is probably why
I came to love silence—
And English
Here’s a girl who likes Edward Lear,
book reading reports,
hour hands

I’m a hunter of the treasures of my past
And I wish you stick with me ’til I find them at last.

Book Review: Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

Genre: Nonfiction/Autobiography/Essays
Copy: Online (LINK HERE)
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Synopsis: The memoir of one man’s coming-of-age, set during the twilight of apartheid and the tumultuous days of freedom that followed.

Trevor Noah’s unlikely path from apartheid South Africa to the desk of The Daily Show began with a criminal act: his birth. Trevor was born to a white Swiss father and a black Xhosa mother at a time when such union was punishable by five years in prison. Living proof of his parents’ indiscretion, Trevor was kept mostly indoors for the earliest years of his life, bound by the extreme and often absurd measures his mother took to hide him from a government that could, at any moment, steal him away. Finally liberated by the end of South Africa’s tyrannical white rule, Trevor and his mother set forth on a grand adventure, living openly and freely and embracing the opportunities won by a centuries-long struggle.

Born a Crime is the story of a mischievous young boy who grows into a restless young man as he struggles to find himself in a world where he was never supposed to exist. It is also the story of that young man’s relationship with his fearless, rebellious, and fervently religious mother — his teammate, a woman determined to save her son from the cycle of poverty, violence, and abuse that would ultimately threaten her own life.

Continue reading “Book Review: Born a Crime by Trevor Noah”

Book Talk: When poetry does not come easy, read.

The last time I wrote a poem, I was mad. Angry and frustrated with the world, the people, the reality — everything. And though it feels so good to pour these emotions on paper, I miss the other triggers to my writings. I miss writing about smiles, laughters, tears of joy. Even writing about heartache brings you loving memories. I miss the girl who likes spinning castle in the air. I need to call her back.

So, for now, while the ink stays dry, let’s read. 🥀❤️


These two books of poetry and prose were written by Rod Marmol, a poet here in the Philippines. How about you? What are you reading this weekend?

Book Review: The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore

Genre: Fictional autobiography
Copy: Paperback
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Short Synopsis: Set on a Bengali noble’s estate in 1908, this is both a love story and a novel of political awakening. The central character, Bimala, is torn between the duties owed to her husband, Nikhil, and the demands made on her by the radical leader, Sandip. Her attempts to resolve the irreconcilable pressures of the home and world reflect the conflict in India itself, and the tragic outcome foreshadows the unrest that accompanied Partition in 1947.

What I liked:

1. The characters. Each POV from the three central characters brought me to their shoes. I struggled with Nikhil in keeping his morals, I lost my way to sensationalism and terror with Bimala, and I breathed in Sandip’s clouded fanaticism. These internal turmoil that each character go through make the story relatable.

2.The depth in this slim volume. It talks about infatuation — one that goes beyond the physical attraction. It weights the pros and cons of being infatuated with an idea. It tackles the concepts of freedom and bondage, pitting rationalism, nationalism and humanism against each other, backdropped by the political scenario of the Swadesi movement.

3. Tagore’s poetic power. I know people did not miss the faulty translations but that did not hamper Tagore’s beautiful prose.

Continue reading “Book Review: The Home and the World by Rabindranath Tagore”

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