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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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Tuesday Poetics

He sights a leash—he screams

He sights a leash—he screams—
From flattened belly—he leaves the floor—
He runs with million wagging tails—
Proceeds to play a hide and seek—

His voice cracks—circling—whines—
Tilt a head, flash a smile—
He gives a lick and I hug his neck—
Lo, what a lovely collar that is!

Betrayal flashed upon his eyes—
This necklace meant only one thing—
He raise his paws as last attempt—
Hopes he can cheat bath-time again—

© doodlescribbles


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Companions hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg who asks us to write about our love (or frustration) for our pets.

This one’s inspired by Emily Dickinson’s She sights a Bird—she chuckles. It’s a poem about a cat on a hunt for prey. I’ve always love Emily and her dashes so I decided to write about Darwin (one of our two dogs) who I always take with me to the river for a quick bath. 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!dverse

A Woman’s Bite

There are no apples left for picking
At least not the ones that brought collective sin
So why do we feel like we’ve ruined Eden?
When we weren’t even named after Eve

Why do they bar our own progress?
Condemn us when we show our strength
Why can’t we be our own winner?
must thank a man for our gain

denounced
impugned
cut to the quick

Did a bite symbolize the fall of man
or was just that of a woman?


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Apple! hosted by Ha who asks us to write use apple as a thematic or a metaphorical element in our poem.

This poem is dedicated to all women who have faced and are still battling with inequality, sexism and double standards. Like Bjorn, today’s prompt reminded me of the Forbidden Fruit. And it was thanks to Carol’s End of the Garden for inciting the idea of this piece. Let’s celebrate Women’s Month!

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

Before the fall folds

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your smile turns summer into a feeling
and my world tilts towards you, babe

i am a teen once again—
blushing pink
‘neath love’s golden rays

and i know seasons are passing
and only fools rush in
but before the fall folds. . .

allow me to relish your summer smile
walk with me along windswept forest
talk about fate, destiny and magic

let me be the flower,
and you be the sun.


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Impermanence hosted by Merril who asks us to write a poem that speak about impermanence.

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

My Chemical Romance

My Chemical Romance

I sit beside helium, neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon
the laziest and most boring elements,
they say

Thinking periodically how you came—
and stayed

Perhaps because ours is a chemical romance
like helium that always comes in two
like neon giving colors to my gray days
like argon remaining colorless and true
like krypton giving each other strength
like xenon starting from being strangers
like radon becoming each other’s weakness

This, I think, is why I like noble gases
they were once set aside at first
until they finally found their place

MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Let’s get elemental! hosted by Sarah who challenges us to write some poems inspired by the periodic table elements.

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

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! 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

i love her but her hands

Image result for working hands black and white unsplash

i love her but her hands—
from her graying hair to her calloused feet
my heart brims with love

but her hands bring me pain

hands the held our family together
hands that gathered woods to cook meals
hands that eased her son’s worry
hands that brushed her daughter’s hair

loving hands
selfless hands
working hands
praying hands

i love her but her hands
tell of stories that are too painful to read
veins detailing the days
she strained herself to fatigue

last night, i found another scar
from hands bearing the day’s hard work
she broke twenty extra coconut shells,
my mother said with pride

a look at those hands gave me pain

loving hands
selfless hands
working hands
praying hands

i never thought my mother’s hands were that small
some days they’re clasped forming a zipper of prayer
some days they’re clenched into a fist thrown in the air
a reminder of the empty promises of the present and past

i love her but her hands—
from her graying hair to her calloused feet
my heart brims with love

if only i could make those hands my own.

MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Beauty in Ugliness hosted by Mish who challenges us to  find the beauty in the ugly. Image by @nate_dumlao.

As I struggle to find a topic for a poem, an image kept on poking in my head. It was my mother’s hands. Aging as they are… and tired. I was raised by a family of farmers, generations deeply rooted in agriculture. Although I was not of much help in the rice field (if playing scarecrow as a child counts), I was exposed to copra making. I remember the sweat. The late nights spent working. I remember my parent’s tired eyes.

This piece, aside from finding beauty in the ugly, is a tribute to the coconut farmers in my country. In the face of politics and empty promises, I hope they find justice to their plight.

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

out of sight, i’m out of my mind

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the moon beams with your smile
and i weakened to my knees
like a madman, i hunt the streets
but the night hides you in vain
leaving memories on footpaths—
the aroma of coffee
the sweetness of ice cream
the taste of both on your lips

i love you
and there is no other way
not to

out of sight, i’m out of my mind

deny me
anything, everything
but not you

we got ourselves drunk in love
and left each other thirsty
these memories won’t suffice
but with them, I’ll survive
and until then I will cherish
the aroma of coffee
the sweetness of ice cream
the taste of both on your lips
MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Twisted Adages hosted by Jilly who challenges us to  craft our poetry around an adage (or two) that you must change in some significant way.  And since I am missing someone today, here’s a shoutout to the good old adage, out of sight out of mind. This little piece beg to differ. 😉

Head over here to join the fun!

dverse

Nights and Lights and Silent Cries

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Nights and Lights and Silent Cries

Beneath the deepening sky
On an empty street veiled by nighttime
Her eyes lay lost in the lights
And the world was muted
Not even the wind dared to howl

Drawn to the trail of light
She wandered—
And wondered
With the lights grooving before her
Why do tears fall from her eyes?
MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Groove hosted by Lillian.

A few weeks ago, a certain voldemort and I went out to the busy streets around IT Park to shoot the trail of lights from passing cars. I have always love long walks and quiet nights but during that time, it was different. My senses were all aware of the noise, the lights, and the chill of the night. Perhaps it has something to do with my agyrophobia or something else. Nonetheless, the shoot turned out all right. Looking at the pictures, though, made me think: despite the colors of the night, there will always be someone looking at them with sad eyes. Which led me to this piece.

Head over here to join the fun!

dverse

What Would You Do?

Image result for spoliarium

What Would You Do? 

What would you do
When the thin line between
Right and wrong blurs?

When the outcries of the dead
Scream justice but the world
Responds with more deaths?

When humans refuse to be human
And the border that protects
now destroys, what would you do?
MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Border. Today, Grace asks us to write about borders— physical or imaginary boundaries.

The image is above is a a painting by Filipino artist, Juan Luna, entitled Spoliarium. Our country and the people are in great divide right now with the ongoing war on drugs. Thousands are already dead but counting still goes on. When did death becomes the answer?

Head over here to join the fun!

dverse

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