one day she will get through these dystopian days look at the mirror and see blue irises growing from her painted bruise she will take fortune out of misery— make a wager with fate; there’ll be no more sad mornings or skeptical days
peace will propel this crepuscular creature who no longer breathes between alternate universes and thousand ironies this will be her renovation— rebirth to the nth degree.
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.
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.
LUNES Binukas ang mga mata sa bagong umaga Muling umaasa sa panibagong sana Sana mabigyan ng pansin ang mga hinaing Pakinggan ang mga boses na humihiling
MARTES Itong gusaling umangat sa rurok ng kalingitan Tila biglang nakalimot na kami ang pumasan Bawat suntok sa tagumpay kamao namin ang gumalaw Ngayong kami’y nangangailangan bigla kang bumitaw
MYERKULES Sadya namin ay tinapay, umulan ay bato Hindi ka kumilos, ni hindi kumibo Nasaan na ang bangkang sabi mong lulan natin? Bakit kami lang nakakapit sa dulo ng patalim?
HUWEBES Simpleng mangagawang binulag mo ng pangako Pinaasa, pinabayaan, pinagkanulo Dukhang marapat sana’y dakilain at itanghal Tinanggalan ng pag-asa at natitirang dangal
BYERNES Kaya ‘wag mong sasabihing pantay ang ating halaga Kung hindi ka kaisa sa hirap, dusa’t luha Kung hindi ka nangambang mawalan ng tirahan At naranasang matakot para sa kinabukasan
SABADO Ipikit ang mga matang pagod nang umaasa Tama na ang paghihintay sa malinaw na wala Panahon nang isigaw ang aming bulong Hindi na aasam sa iyo ng tulong
LINGGO Sa mapanghamong buhay makikipaglaro Ang sistemang baluktot dudurugin ng pino Liwayway ng paglaya ay darating din Pag-unlad at tagumpay sa iyong inalipin
For a long while I chose not to write poetry because, with what I’m carrying in my heart, I know nothing positive will come out of it. And I didn’t want that. I would love if my words can inspire or bring a smile to the few readers who take time to notice my writings. So I chose silence for the meantime. Until, perhaps, I genuinely feel happy about life and living again. But the struggle is real. And I need to unload it, even just this one. </3
He wakes up, beads of sweat trickle down his temples as Valis’ voice scurries to the back of his mind.
It has been three weeks. The freak who sees murder as a work of art has long been dead. But why does he haunt Billy still?
Drink your tea. Tie your shoes. Go to work. Billy thought his mundane routine could stop his mind’s engine from running withershins. But they don’t. He hates the man’s bloodlust but deep in the recesses of his thoughts, he is fascinated with Valis’ ingenuity. On how he staged those gruesome acts. Billy’s grief for that passion are tentacles taking grasp of his sanity.
He stared at the ceiling. Another day, another ordinary life.
The sun sets and the night rolls in. At midnight, his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream — the performance must be done.
Written Neekneraj’s Wordle and dVerse’s Prosery hosted by Bjorn who asks us to write a piece of prose of exactly 144 words inspired by a line from Maya Angelou’s poem, Caged Bird.
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
Today, I finished reading Dean Koontz’s novel, Velocity. This is my twist to the ending of the story.