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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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break-ups

How I Heal

How I Heal

how I heal is walking
in between scattered memories—
barefoot and sore
risking the odds of tripping
onto a black and white
of stolen kisses, soft touch
love letters and lazy afternoons
how I heal is struggling
towards the water edge
with my bruises itching
in the ebb and flow
darling, how I heal is hurting
until I concede that we are no more.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Written for A to Z Challenge: Letter H.

Today’s photograph is entitled How I Heal by Reylia Slaby. You can find more of her works on her Facebook Page and Instagram account.

YAY! Let the challenge commence!

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Read more 2017 A to Z Challenge entries here!

Joanna

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He slammed the front door shut, leaving her a name that echoed in the four corners of the room—J O A N N A. Joanna sounded like his ‘I love you’. Joanna tasted like his kisses. Joanna felt like his touch. There were no tears in her eyes just lips closed tight. She should have known all along.

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image Source: Favim


Written for November Notes hosted by two lovely and awesome writers, my dearie Rosema of A Reading Writer and Sarah of Heartstring Eulogies. Come, join the musical fun! 😀

Music Prompt for Day 4: Between the Lines by Sara Bareilles

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Sampung Segundo

A week ago, I added a new section called Love Local and posted my very first poem written in our national language, Filipino. It was heartwarming and fulfilling that I was able to embark on a new journey of exploring Philippines’ literature through poetry. The challenge, I realized, lies in translating the poem in the English language without sacrificing its true meaning and emotion. Gladly, it turned out all right but, still, this remains a work in progress. *Sigh*

So here’s a second of (hopefully) more local poems from a hopeless romantic’s pen. I hope you enjoy this. 🙂 ❤

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© theodysseyonline.com

Tagalog Poem #2: Sampung Segundo

Sampung segundong nagtagal bago ang mga ngiti ay napawi
At ang mga hikbi ay kumawala kasabay nang pagtulo ng mga luha
Mga patak ng luha na tila ulan na humahampas sa puso at kaluluwa
Nilulunod ang natitirang pag-asa
At mga ala-ala
Sampung segundo na ikaw ay minasdan
Papalayo sa bukas kong pintuan
Naghihintay, umaasa- nagmamakaawa
Na sana ikaw ay lumingon, takbuhin ang ating pagitan
Pigain sa higpit ng iyong mga yakap
Ang lahat ng hindi natin pagkakaunawaan
Sampung segundo na wari mga daliring nakakapit sa bangin
Nanginginig, nangangalay, nangangawit
At isa-isang bumibitiw sa bawat hakbang ng iyong paglayo
Sampung segundong pagsusumamo
Na ang ating kwento ay madugtongan
Maibalik sa panahon ng ikaw at ako
At makulayang muli ang aking mundo.

English Translation: Ten Seconds

Ten seconds that lasted before my smile fades
Before sobs loosened up and tears fell down my face
Tears that felt like drops of rain hammering my heart and soul
Drowning whatever is left of hope-
And your memories

Ten seconds of longingly watching you
Walk away from my door
Waiting, hoping- begging
That you’d turn back around, run the gap between us
Squeeze with your tight embrace
All our differences and rifts
Ten seconds that seemed like fingers gripping on a cliff
Shaky, numb, and tired
Letting go one at a time in each step you make
Ten seconds of pleading
To keep the story of us
Turn back the time when there was you and I
 And bring the  color back into my life

Graffiti

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© http://www.164seven.com/

She was once a blank canvas

In 6th street, a naked wall

One day was touched by an artist

An aesthete, who stained her soul

On her porous bricks he painted

A message hidden with every stroke

In his masterpiece, she bask in glory

To its comforting scent enthralled

But like all graffiti, the writings faded

A love story ended and tossed

Trash caught in growing weeds

Hid the crumbling wall


This is another late post for our Writing 101: Poetry last December 2015. Prompt 8 is a courtesy of writer & photographer Andy of belgradestreets. Graffiti always reminds me of my friend’s ex who is a member of a famed graffiti crew here in Cebu. Their love story was pretty much of a graffiti on the wall, bold and vibrant, until time passed then the writings faded- and so were their feelings.

Day 8: Graffiti

Graffiti: art, or vandalism? It sometimes seems every flat surface is someone’s canvas. Trains with spray-painted carriages trundle past graffiti-adorned buildings and rattle through illustrated tunnels.

Are you, like me, often inspired by the creativity and audacity of the artist? Or are you outraged by a perceived assault on public decency? Is graffiti a valid means of self-expression for those without a voice, or just the random scribbling of people with nothing better to do? For today’s poem, reflect on what graffiti means to you. Tell the story of a particularly memorable wall. Quote a powerful example of graffiti you’d seen (and feel free to share an image, if you’d like). Or write the poem as if it were itself splashed, for all to see, against the largest wall in town.

Erroneous

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There was a time when the wind, sunbeam, and sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me did seem
Like everything was right.
But in the midst of ruins and shattered shields,
The hour of anguish and crashing down
I ask of you
To stay, still, you left
And as I wake– the wind, the sunbeam, and the sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me now seem
Like nothing’s gone right.
Think of the summer,Christmas, and milk tea treats
Of funny faces and random smiles
In a flash
You came, like a smoke, wanes.

The Four-leaf clover

Photo credits: Ching Falcone

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As the cold morning breeze kisses on my cheeks
Upon seeing you, a familiar chill on me sneaks
My past and present fought to a bitter-sweet end
Then came realization, this heart has yet to mend

Astounded when our eyes met, I don’t know what to do
It’s been five years and counting since I let go of you
I know it will be lie to say that the feeling’s gone
When I could spend the day staring at you beneath the sun

I was left dumbfounded, couldn’t utter a single word
My courage sank to zero; I seem to have lost my sword
You too was left surprised, you couldn’t even move
So I guess I better leave and dash to my abode.

It takes six men before you meet your lucky 7—or not

Photo credits: Dada

If anyone has watched the movie, Lucky 7, where control-freak Amy sticks to her detailed timeline as a guideline in all walks of life including love, this one is about the same.

We are all hopeless romantic. We long for love and affection. We desire to feel the magic it brings. We hold on to our faith of finding true love. Some people get lucky, some work their ass off in search of ‘The One’, and some just run out of kismet. Time and experience may have changed our idea about love. Some gave up with their awfully broken-into-pieces heart whilst some stood up from the fall, wiping the bruises and forgetting the scars, to once again hope. Hope that someday, somewhere, somehow they might just get their luck.

Continue reading “It takes six men before you meet your lucky 7—or not”

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