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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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dversepoets

Trolled trolls

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how many mouths must be starved
or epitaphs must be carved
for these blinded trolls to see
past this fractured democracy
this populist and his isms
his ideology of acquiescence
make cage ‘round free birds
and voices unheard—

trolls you’re trolled,
can’t you see?
MS

 

 


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille hosted by Frank who challenges to put some TROLL with our poems today.

Here’s a short lament for the current state of the Philippines. Sigh.

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

In a quandary

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She sails away in dreams and books
Finds refuge in every empty nooks
But when she saw the babbling brook
It showed her what she overlooked

Though she finds refuge in empty nooks
There is more to life than a storybook
And she finally saw what she overlooked
A laughter, a smile, come take a look

There is more to life than a storybook
More to boring likes and posts on Facebook
A laughter, a smile, come take a look
The mountains wait, lay down your books

More to boring likes and posts on Facebook
More to sailing away in dreams and books
The mountains wait, lay down your books
And heed the call of the babbling brook
MS

 

 


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: your poetic hum hosted by Gina who introduced us to the Tanpura Principle in writing (the idea that much of writing occurs while doing something else). What is the poetic hum in your life? What hums in the background of your life that inspires you as you unconsciously listen while you work and live? Is the drone always there or do you have to cultivate the inspiration?

As I have found my passion and profession in writing, work does not take much of a toll. But if there is one thing that made me live a dual life, it is the happiness I found in nature. On most days I am torn between slouching on the bed with a book and putting on my bag to explore the outdoors. Sometimes, the book wins. Sometimes, the mountains. It’s like being torn between two lovers. 

Also, linking this up to Poetry Forms – The Pantoum. Other than Quadrille and Haibun, I haven’t written a piece with a poetry form. This is my first with Pantoum. 🙂

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dverse

Perhaps love will find me one day

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“perhaps love will find me one day”

you’ll probably say there is an error in that syntax
that i should find love from within, not the other way around
but that is not the case — at least not for me

believe me, i have milked courage for all its worth
but every time insecurity enters my room,
i was never brave enough to meet its gaze

some days it comes with keys,
knowing exactly how to open my vulnerabilities
some days it comes with hammer,
forcing its way to let in my anxieties

everyday i wake up a survivor
but truth is i never left the scene of the crime

so if there is love to be found from within
it is buried deep in a mass grave—
along with the what-ifs
and the could-have-beens
MS


In response to dVerse’s OLN #238 hosted by Grace.

Perhaps love will find me one day — I once asked a friend if is she loves herself. This was her answer and I find it to be one of the saddest statement I have ever heard. </3

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dverse

You know they lie

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You know they lie
When headline reads, ‘Cops say he fought back’
You know it’s an execution—
a purge, a shortcut
To what you call a ‘better world’
In between sips of coffee
You convince yourself
of the new normal
of the new ‘right’

MS


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #74 hosted by Mish who challenges us to take the word “sip” beyond the obvious.

This one is inspired by a news article I read this morning. The Philippine government is still waging war on drugs. While this started with the right cause, it has veered into an unstoppable purge. And with the poor justice system in the country, the war has taken a toll on the poor. This one is for the dead who were summary executed and for living who shrug sympathy and justice away. These 44 words are not enough to save the country from further downfall, it needs the Filipino people to wake up and stand up against impunity.

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dverse

Attic Curse

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Dusk rolled in
The rain dripping on panes
Its pitter-patter, an ether
Bringing euphoria
To the grimalkin
Who sits in the attic

In silence, she cursed
The zodiac signs
The planetary cabal—
An augur ill to misgivings
Causing her to miss
True love’s kiss
MS


In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #120 and  dVerse’s Quadrille: A Prelude to a Kiss hosted by De who challenges us to blow some kisses into our poems today.

Here’s a little something for a friend who is afraid of taking chances! 😉

Image: Unsplash

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dverse

Jalousie: A Vignette

dried rose flowers

be careful with jalousies
even locked doors are easy
to break into —
if they are half-open
MS


In response to dVerse’s OLN hosted by Grace. Today, I spent the whole afternoon thinking about jealousy jalousie. I strained my thoughts trying to scribble something longer but I think this one summarized it all. Image: Unsplash

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dverse

 

 

I dare not change

woman sleeping on bed under blankets

I weave stories even in fabric
Seams laced with tell-tales
Of yesterdays, todays and tomorrows

Coffee stains
Wrinkled sheets
Lipstick on sleeves

From collars to buttonholes
I know their stories— wrote them
Even when all is said and done

I dare not change
MS


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes hosted by De who challenges us to play with the word, “change.”

As I read this over and over, I can’t help but think I could have written this bottom to top. Well, I dare not change. Either way, here’s a little something. 😉

Photo Credit: Unsplash

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dverse

 

 

Lifetimes in retrospect

The sun has sunk and risen
And past felt out of touch
Like the silence after a curtain call
Or the dying embers of a fire
I watched it for the last time
In retrospect—
Swinging from pain and joy,
Trance and frustration
Memories tumbling out in smiles
At times in tears.

A demon waltzed into my subconscious
Where the loneliest of the loneliness remains
It asked me with indifference:
Would I live it all again and again?
Lifetimes flashed before my ancient eyes
Days that lifted me up
And those that worn me down
Lulled to sleep by the thought of recurrence
I said I would—
Until I move on to another life.

MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Time and What If? hosted by Merril who challenges us to look at time backward, forward, inside, and out. Ponder it into a poem. Then wonder, what if?

I was supposed to write about this before 2018 ended. But life happened. So anyway…

Last December, I dived into the philosophy of Nietzsche which eventually led me to the idea of eternal recurrence. This thought experiment asks us not to take the idea as truth but rather asks us what we would do if the idea were true. As the year was coming to a close, I took a retrospect of my short two decades. It was far from being perfect and in its most pragmatic way, life has shown me the beauty and the ugly. If given the chance to live it again exactly as it was as Nietzsche posed, I would. Until the universe agrees that I’m ready for the next.

Happy new year! 🙂

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dverse

On histories and mysteries

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I remember standing in this corner of the street. A once timid soul staring blankly at the stoplights, waiting for a signal if I should stop or go. Cars speeding to and fro with blaring lights, I remember my heart beating like a drum. Too afraid and too cynical if I could make it to the other side of the road. Seconds turned into minutes, I waited until the hour hands forced me to move along. Day after day, this has been my routine. Until I found you you found me.

Eyes on the map, you were looking for this corner of the street. Strange and hilarious — that is how I thought back then. Perhaps you heard about the girl that was always stuck in the crossroad. Or you wanted to know what magic draws her to this place. And so in this corner of histories and mysteries, things have changed.

I no longer dread the stoplights. My feet now know when to stop or go. And when I’m afraid or cynical, I have a hand pulling me close. Leading me to the other side of the road. Heart still beating like a drum, I know it wasn’t because of the speeding cars. It was something else. It was you.

The trees kept quiet
As a new story unfolds—
Two souls, one crossroad

MS


In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: Transitions hosted by Merril D. Smith who asked us to write about change, but specifically, to write about a transitional time in our life.

This specific corner in IT Park has always been a special place to me. It has inspired a number of poems before— and it still do. Looking back at one of the pieces I wrote, I find it amusing how things have changed. I used to write about chaos, but now this place reminds of being brave.

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dverse

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