Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul


Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

We paid the price for a bite

Photo by Giovanni Calia on

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.

Attic Curse

grayscale photo of woman right hand on glass

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

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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She is a bad liar, that girl.


She is a bad liar, that girl. She can seamlessly hide behind words and metaphors but her eyes will always betray her. Beneath the layers of finery, if you look closely, you can see the pale glimmer of blues she has bottled inside. Wounds from years of baring her soul open only to zip it back up because she’s either too much or not enough. Scars from falling in and out of love too deeply. Stains, flaws, imperfections all trying to claw out of her skin.

She’s a bad liar, that girl. But if you stare long enough, she won’t look away. If you listen a little closer, she will tell you her story. No lies this time. Will you stay?

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #191 hosted by Nekneeraj.

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The girl who was made of moonbeams

couple, cuddling, moon, night, watching

The girl who was made of moonbeams

“It’s waning.” Her voice breaks the silence as she eyes the moon amid the blanket of stars.

She is her own kind beautiful. The type of beauty that that goes beyond the naïve skin. Her eyes, aflame, glint with passion. Two windows opening to a new world of fantasies— of hidden histories. A touch of fata organa. And her smile… Her smile was the key that fits perfectly into his heart’s keyhole. He can’t help but grin.

What is she? The thought crosses his mind as he imbibes the quiet between them. On nights like this, there is no need for tongues for they are free from the trammels of the world. No rules. No walls. Blinking in reality, he turns to face the sky and asks, “What is waning?”

“The moon… and love.” She mused.

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #169 and Sunday Writing Prompt: The girl who was made of… Image source: Favim

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I Dream In Circles

beauty, dream, dream catcher, dreamcatcher, girl, photography, simple, sunset

I Dream In Circles

I dream in circles
Chasing the tail end
Of what once was
Of what will never be
Running after a shadow
Calling out a name
Only to wake from
The ghost of a dream
That fades like a mist
At the hint of daybreak

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #38: Dream hosted by De. Image source: Favim

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With a languid gait, she walks towards the stream. The scent of fall leaves hang in the air as her feet press the ground. She is a natural beauty, that’s what they say. But before her reflection, she only sees sadness hiding beneath a feigned smile. Her face embedded with years of self-doubt. The water feels like a looking glass and she dives into the labyrinth of her gritty past. She swims into the muffled silence, recalling her feats and defeats, descending to the very beginning of her life. And she surfaced proud. Today is her dead-reckoning.

Rivers of the past
Coursing through her memories
Running wide and deep


In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #168 hosted by Yves. Photography by Alessio Albi

This week’s words are: Feign, Gait, Torn, Press, Left, Labyrinthine (complicated, torturous, resembling a labyrinth), Look, Embed, Malformed, Gritty, Natural, Dead-reckoning (In navigation, dead reckoning is the process of calculating one’s current position by using a previously determined position, or fix, and advancing that position based upon known or estimated speeds over elapsed time and course.)

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I submit to your dominance
Like a foolish myrmidon
Jump in circle if you need—
This soul’s entangled to yours
My virtues are figments
Lost in the willowwacks
Your love enslaves me and
With a glint of utter fear
I tremble of being free

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: MKAphotography

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Fear hosted by Victoria C. Slotto and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #166 hosted by Yves.

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Breaking Free

Untitled collage 2

Breaking Free

I will let no ill words permeate
This heart. No more vacant
Eyes from a soul left abashed.
I will tear the walls that caged
Me for years. No more waning
Hope and sagging will. Sharpen
Your knives, throw them at me
Like a bird of prey, today I will
Seize. You can call me a sinner—
Cast the stones but I will never
Conform and worship deceit.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #165 hosted by Yves and Sunday Writing Prompt: Fly Like An Eagle hosted by Pat of Scribbler’s Dipstick.

I think I have developed a habit of merging MLMM’s Wordle and Sunday Prompt. 🙂 I would especially like to thank Pat for providing a lot of interesting and intriguing storyboards. Now that you’ve used this reference, I feel the urge to read Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray again.

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The Baptism


The Baptism

My feet trudge the dark earth
Outlining little puddles
The furious sky flaunts its prowess
Upon us lowly creatures
My dress is drenched in the downpour
But my eyes flicker with hope
Like a child blessed with holy water
Within this rain is my baptism

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Flicker hosted by Grace and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #174 hosted by Nekneeraj.

Last April, I’ve had the chance to work with Reylia Slaby during the A to Z challenge. Although I was 8 letters short in completing the challenge, it was fun and exciting expressing her photos through poems. The photo above is entitled, We Summon Our Own Rain. Interesting title, eh? 

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