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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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poetry

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
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

Head over here to join the prompt!

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

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

 

 

Over and over. Again and again.

At some point in this lifetime, your life will turn upside down. You knees will wobble in chasing your dreams. Your fingers will tremble holding on to hope. Frustration will try to claw out of your throat as fear strangles you by the neck. Your heart will break— terribly. Crushed and trampled on by circumstances or people. You will see life from a shattered mirror and trust me when I say that you will seek the comfort of oblivion.

I have been there.

I turned to silence and locked myself away from the awful world. Noise has also been my recourse to shut the voices screaming in my head. I gave myself an escape only to find I was building a cage. It was empty even when I was in it.

Coelho once wrote that life has a way of testing a person’s will: either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen all at once. I hope when you reach this point in your lifetime, you take a time to breathe. To take a step back. It’s okay to not know all the answers. It’s okay to swim in the ocean of confusion. It’s okay to fall. So take all the time you need to get those knees back up. Those hands ready to grip. And that heart? Remember that it is everything broken and glued back together.

Over and over. Again and again.

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

 

 

What if you didn’t cheat?

What if you didn’t cheat?

I’m sorry, but I can’t find a metaphor for you to get around this thought so I just have to ask it straight to your face.

What if you didn’t cheat?

You would be playing the guitar under the moonlit sky as I sing Daniel Caesar’s Best Part for the seventh time. Your fingers would hurt from strumming and probably your eardrums too from listening. But you would just laugh it out. You always do.

Like when I stepped on your toes while trying to reach a book from the top shelf. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I had no idea who the bearded guy was but I heard reading his book would make one look smarter. So I bought it. And you laughed.

But this is not a night for laughing. This is a night for asking how could a man who loves coffee forgets his mate? How could an ‘I love you’ sound like another woman’s name. How could emptiness sit between two people, with each passing second leaving a stab in the back straight to the heart.

There goes your metaphor.

It’s funny how I can liken cheating to so many things. A scenery gone wrong. Failing an open book test. Salt in a sugar jar. A crime with no punishment.

If only one of them would make the pain a little bearable.

What if you didn’t cheat? I probably wouldn’t have to worry on who I’d be: the girl who walks away or the girl who stays?

MS

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

Vignette: Lured

you make me feel
like this is where i belong:
right by your side

It was more than your charm that lured me in. It was your mystery— the way you make my mind wander and wonder. The way you make me a changed person evey single day I spend with you. The way you make me feel like this is where I belong: right by your side. 🍃

On histories and mysteries

BeautyPlus_20181021195005046_save.jpg

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

Birds, worms and decays

animal, bird, black and white, favim, google, nature, photography, tumblr, vintage

dawn breaks,
and the early bird sees
where to fill its breakfast plate
flying high above the land
of lofty, mighty lords—
in the brown patch of the earth
the worms wriggle
from decays in its burrow
feeding over hungry peasants
deprived of tomorrow
MS


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #67: early hosted by Kim.

Three days after I wrote a tribute piece to the working hands of mothers and coconut farmers, the Philippines awakened to a dreadful news. Nine sugarcane workers, including two minors and four women, in Sagay City, Negros Occidental, were brutally murdered by unidentified men. As if we never had enough of the 1985 Escalante Massacre, the 1987 Mendiola Massacre, the 2004 Hacienda Luisita Massacre, the 2016 Kidapawan Massacre — along with thousands of killings in the context of the peasant struggle. This war against the people and war against the poor is sickening.

The palace shouts of Red October. Now they got blood in their hands.

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dverse

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