Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul



My Universe in Verse

According to current thinking, the observable universe is about 93 billion light years in diameter. I am no astronomy expert and the likes of Edwin Hubble would probably disagree when I say that there was a time when the universe molded itself into the right shape to fit just two people.

That day we hiked the trail to the peak expecting to find the place crowded with campers. But it was uncommonly empty. Right then my selfish side wished that no one would ever come. Coelho must have known that when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. Because no one did arrive. We had the billion-star accommodation all for ourselves.

I’ve always wondered what they meant when they said that the universe is infinite. Were they referring to the cosmic wonders from without or to those from within? That night we measured trajectories — not of falling comets but of falling hearts. At daybreak, I caught a momentary silhouette backlit by the rising sun. My sunset man. And what astronomers have not observed is this: sometimes all the mysteries of the universe is found in someone’s hand.

the wide universe
seized to be scientific—
poetic, it was




In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: The Picnic hosted by Gina who challenges to share some picnic themed poems.

Here’s one of my favorite memories with one of my favorite people. The title is inspired by The Universe in Versean annual celebration of science through poetry hosted by Maria Popova at Pioneer Works and The Academy of American Poets

Head over here to join the prompt!


On histories and mysteries


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


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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Eyes Scream

We tend to eat ice cream every time it was cold out. Like that one night I let you try Moonsky & Sunny. You could not decide which flavor so I chose coffee and chocolate mint instead. Beneath the moon and sky, I gave you a sunny smile. You laughed when you realized I was waiting for a feedback. It tasted great, you acquiesced. The next time we ate, you picked the place. I remember getting lost and strolling quite a distance. You kept saying sorry and it was the first time I told you how I love long walks. And so we did. Seven kilometers long. There was also this one night you told me about a funny man who sells dirty ice cream on the street. We found him along the honking and crawling cars. A man in his 30s wearing a slim-fit white t-shirt and faded blue tight jeans. This time you waited how I’d react. Did I tell you it hurts to suppress a laugh? And how could I miss last night’s sundae? Down with cough and cold, you said you it was nothing. Stubborn man. You talked your way out with politics, laws, and secrets. And I found myself in silence— yet again. Eating my ice cream, in muted words, my eyes screamed: damn how I love this human.

Moonlit silent nights
Memories of you and I—
Burning senses, sigh

In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Sounds of Silence hosted by Dwight Roth who challenges usto write a poem about the human condition that eludes to silence, especially the sounds of silence. What is being said when nothing is spoken and no sound is being made?

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These Eyes Are All Yours

These Eyes Are All Yours

The day is slowly fading into the night and I look outside from the glass window with anticipation. My eyes search the star-speckled sky but you are nowhere to be found. Perhaps you’re hanging on the other side.

Two hours. Two more hours until I get to see you, my love. My greed for you is burning. It is almost a sin. What should I tell you this time? Ah, poetry. I wrote something about you— yet again. I will read it later on. And music! I was playing Ed Sheeran’s Perfect a while ago and this beautiful song never fails to break my heart. You probably heard this a hundred times but you know I just have to say it.

There you are. Waiting just outside the lobby, casting your light to the branches. Curious how one tree is almost bare-naked while the other is thriving. We will talk about this too, but for now let me stare in silence.

oh dear winter moon
these eyes are all yours tonight
and all nights to come

In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: Fuyu No Tsuki hosted by Victoria C. Slotto. Technically, we do not have winter on my side of the Earth. But we do share the same moon, right? 🙂

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Breathe, Then Move Along

On some days you will find yourself on the edge of a cliff. Your hands will be holding on to nothing but the rough and sharp boulders that will only leave you with callouses and wounds. Your knees will tremble at the thought of falling. Of failing. And that every single cell in your body will be in a crazy delirium.

On these days, I want you to take a deep breath. To feel the warmth of the sun. To let the wind tease your hair. Listen to the silence and hear the beat of your heart. It’s probably beating too fast but it will slow down if you give it a little time. Breathe.

And then move along. If you must walk or run or crawl on fours, do it. You will be scared. You will be scarred. But isn’t that how we grow? Let the callouses be your pride and the wounds be your drive. Be the trembling mess standing bravely at the edge of life.

‘Neath the gloomy sky
Leaves sway to the wind’s rhythm—
Blow your fears away

Waking up on the right side of the bed, here’s a little haibun to kiss away our Monday blues. Have a great week everyone! 😀




The sun bathed me with its warmth as I leaned on the ledge across the waterfall. There were tourists around me trying to capture a photo of this cascading beauty but I stood there— dumbfounded. For days and nights I tried to look for a sign to lead me where broken hearts go. I breathed in as if an inhale is all I need to get the courage to let go. But it wasn’t. The water plashing into a rocky pool down the cliff reminded me of how I helplessly dived right into your arms. We all fall, yes I know. But what happens when you can’t pick yourself up again?

I’m listening to the sound of downpour. I don’t know which one is worse, these tears or the waterfall?

the water glistens
listening to the silent cry
of a restless soul

In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: Water hosted by Bjorn

Recently, I have been wandering around Cebu with an adventure-seeking new found friends. I haven’t been writing and reading enough here in blogosphere— which I miss terribly.  However, this reconnect with mother nature has awakened my inner voice. My hopeless romantic muse.

A friend took this photo of me in Mangitngit Falls. This piece is a sad one but don’t waterfalls remind us a terrible fall? 

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A Kiss In The Rain


A Kiss In The Rain

A kiss in the rain
Is like the howl of the wind
Igniting the flames

All colors of neon light
Spill amidst the stormy night

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Watercolor Painting by Lana Moes

In response to Ronovan’s Haiku prompt: Flame & Kiss and Colleen’s Tanka prompt: Storm & Color




The fires of the night danced from a distance as I walked languidly in the dimmed path of 6th street with nothing but a pale light from a solitary street lamp to guide my way. Home. That’s where my feet were supposed to go but my heart refused to call it such. Nothing feels like home when you’re miles away. Nothing feels like home when the distance is heaven wide. Another day has passed and I stared at the infinite horizon of star-speckled sky; my eyes seeking for solace. I looked for the one thing that never failed to make my heart skip a beat, the one thing that the celestial gods must have hand-crafted for me alone—Cassiopeia. In the corner of the night sky, I found the distant gleam of five burning stars forming into a gorgeous constellation and I felt my restless heart calmed, my lips curved into a smile. Now that, my friend, is home.

Stars wink and glimmer,
A warm embrace of comfort
The starry sky brings

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image Source: Wikipedia

In response to dVerse’s Haibun Monday: Twinkle, twinkle

Continue reading “Cassiopeia”

Seeds of Hopes and Dreams



I spent my waking days sowing seeds of hopes and dreams on the face of the earth, wishing that they may land on a good soil. There were days when the seeds scattered on a cold, hard path where ravenous birds await. Those seeds didn’t even get the chance to grow their roots as they were mercilessly devoured. There were days when the seeds fell on shallow grounds surrounded by rocks. Most of them grew but never lasted. Some sprang out quickly but the rocks kept getting in the way while others were withered by the scorching sun and wilted craving for the rain. There were days when I found them amidst the weeds and thorns. The weeds tried to take away what little the seeds have—the sunlight, the water, the nutrients—while the thorns pierced them every time they try to grow. My tears smeared the earth on these days. In the cradle of the night, I held the last seeds close to my heart now wrapped with mudcracks, and prayed to the moon and stars for the courage to sow them again. “Patience, little girl,” the night sky whispered. So I tossed the seeds once again with a hopeful heart. I called upon the wind to blow them to a fertile soil where hopes and dreams may sprout— where tears and sweat come to fruition. Let’s see this parable come to life.

Lift your hands above
Feel your freedom like a dove
He’ll guide your plans, love

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photography by Jenna Walker

In response to dVerse’s MtB: Let’s Kick it Up a Notch
Tending the bar today is Victoria with her piece, Death, Imagined. The challenge is to search your archives and choose a poem, even if it’s one you thought was already done, and see if you can add a little spice to it through the use of sensory description, replacing metaphor, or tightening up your word count.

This was originally a haiku I wrote last March entitled, Plans. I added little something with the help of Chèvrefeuille’s Haibun Prompt (which reminded me of patience) and Raja’s Inspiration Call (which reminded me of Matthew 13 – The Parable of the Sower).

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