Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul




She asked me to take her photo by the window. The moon hung above her head as I looked through the lens. She tucked a cigarette stick on her mouth; inhaled. Exhaled and laughed at me through the smoke.

We met in a bar two hours ago. A little drunk, she was singing to the tune of “Whiskey in the Jar.” Whack fol the diddle. Oh whack fol the diddle. oh there’s whiskey in the jar. In a crowd of dancing homos, there she was. Singing an old Irish folk song.

“You!” She notices me staring. “Are you in love with me yet? One glass of whiskey for the man in black,” she shouted. On our third glass, she pulled me out of the bar, pointed at an abandoned house across the street. “Meet me there in 5.”

So here I am. With a Lumix G9 in hand. Where she got it from, I did not ask. In fact, I never said a word since. Raising a cigarette, she looked at me from the glowing tip.

I don’t really smoke.

I don’t drink.

I haven’t fa— I was in love.

Remember this night.

We slept under the faint September moon in silence. There was no need for romance or sex in this kind of intimacy. The dawn breaks and I found myself alone. Something else breaks. Deep inside.

Damn. I didn’t even ask her name.

While going through my drafts, I saw this short story which was dated October 16, 2018. It is again like my previous post Vignette: The forgotten pages of whines — a forgotten piece whose muse got buried in the stacks of random musings and curiosities. I’m sharing it now to dust off the cobwebs of yesterdays.




Two feet trudge towards the yew tree
Grasses, silver-green in the night, prickling her soles
Looking up, in toes pale and cold,
She whispers a psittacism that sounds like froth

People mock her lunacy
But the moon hears a prayer that no one heeds.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Illustration by Tang Yau Hoong

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Whisper quadrille hosted by De and  MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #138 

Let’s softly sneak in the word whisper. Or shout it. Noun it. Verb it. Slip it an extra letter or two. 🙂

Head over here to join the fun:






A curled moonflower
Awaits the silent night
Unrolling the light
She long kept inside
Madness laced with beauty
Art dripping from her mouth
The night is her solace
The dark quell her doubts
And light shines from her eyes,
The moon and stars above

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Fantasy Art by Lyrica Ray

In response to dVerse’s Quadrille–: Curl

After a fun-filled holiday break, dVerse Poets’ Pub is back on track starting off with a quadrille hosted by Bjorn. Do check his excellent piece entitled, No Cocooning. Let’s get drunk in poetry, shall we?

Head over here to join the fun:




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”

Some Nights

Photography by Ashley Leazer

On some days, not all lights lead you on course

On some nights, not all darks hails a foul force

Some lights are made to mislead

Lead you astray just to bleed

While dark nights hint a home free of remorse

Written for Mind and Life Matters’ Limerick Challenge Week 15: Dark

Here’s to finding peace and tranquility in the night after a day of stumbling down and scrapping knees. 🙂

Forlorn Nights


She walked to the door of emptiness
Her spirit is weary and tired
Looking through the side of her windowpane
She reckoned to call it a night
Her home is thousands of miles away
How she misses their kisses and smile
But she carries on and lives day by day
Making each day worth her while
She lives with a pair of zombies
And a neighborhood of varied worlds
A pair—
Who sleeps in her early morn
But wakes by the time she snooze
Breathing with nameless faces
As she watched them come and go
And back at the windowpane, her eyes closed,
When the sun shines in the morrow
She vowed,
She’ll start anew.

I live oceans away from home, amidst the concrete jungle and city lights. But no matter how lively this city may be, I still crave for those peaceful nights back at home. This is the story of my life, oh well, the story of most of my nights. Here’s for Day 7 Writing 201 task. 🙂

Prompt: Neighborhood
Form: Ballad
Device: Assonance

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