Search

DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

Tag

war

Tired Souls Wait On Riverbanks

river

Tired Souls Wait On Riverbanks

Tired souls wait on riverbanks
Tired souls wait for a welcoming heart
Lost in a kudoclasm of what lies ahead—
A knot of fear in stomachs tighten.

Will there be sparrows singing songs of hope,
Or an ominous hymn from a murder of crows?
Will there be walls and deadbolts on homes?
As they somaticize grief—naked and cold.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Painting by Ally Saunder


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: Ally  Saunders – A Closer Look hosted by the lovely Mish and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #140 by Yves

I still can’t get the world’s distressing news out of my mind. The second I saw this particular painting, my heart immediately went out for the victims of war and the poor refugees. 😦  So here’s a little follow up to my previous post, Have we had enough? *Sigh*

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

Have we had enough?

 

20160314_c5302_photo_en_641213

Have we had enough?

eyes fixed on his war-torn home—
a triptych of death, despair and doom
he breathed the air
tasted blood on his lips;
dread clawed out of his throat
and tears seared his skin

Have we had enough?

…words echoed as he waits for dawn

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit: UNICEF IRAQ/DUHOK/2015/SCHERMBRUCKER via newswire.ca


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Dawn hosted by Bjorn.

In light of the unending chaos in the Middle East and madness in the US. Let there be peace.

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

 

Angel Down

banksy-graffiti-street-art-girl-with-a-bomb

On a rubble and blackened wall
A little silhouette moans
Once living and running
Chasing kites and dreams
Till wrath from the sky befalls
Fighter planes, not shooting stars
Harbinger of doom
Angel down on crimson dirt
Mortar bombs dug her grave

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Graffiti by Banksy via Art and Political Warfare


Written for November Notes hosted by two lovely and awesome writers, my dearie Rosema of A Reading Writer and Sarah of Heartstring Eulogies. Come, join the musical fun!😀

Music Prompt for Day 9: Cupid Carries a Gun by Marilyn Manson. Today’s prompt is quite tricky since I don’t normally listen to this particular kind of music. Got nothing in mind but the seemingly endless airstrike in the Middle East. Sigh. Also, the title’s inspired by Lady Gaga’s single, Angel Down. I hope everyone is doing well. Fire love instead of bullet. 🙏🏼💝✌🏿️

november-notes-4

The Sky is Blue, Always Is

sky

I read hundreds were dead today. Another airstrike was launched; another bomb exploded. Another life on death row; another AIDS victim. Tears were shed as blood smeared the earth yet the sky is blue. Even with the hovering depression, frustration and obliteration, it remains blue. No matter how many times it witnessed death and conflict, heard cries of anguish and utter distress, the horizon is a never-ending blue. It never faded into gray. Why is that? I looked at the cerulean sky and found the glorious sun smiling at me. The sun shined brightly as if saying that all these were just passing clouds—they come and they go. On most days clouds peppered the sky, on some days they filled it. But it never lasted, none of the clouds did. And in the curtain call, as the day faded into night, I succumbed to gloom. I looked up, anticipating the darkness that mirrored this world, only to find a star speckled night sky. The moon winked and said, “Have a little faith, child.”

Weary— my eyes closed
I woke up to a blue sky
Smiling, faith revived

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: Breathing in Blue

Tending the bar for Poet’s Pub today is De who’s back fresh from Lake Tahoe. Check out her gorgeous piece, A thousand shards of cobalt glass.😉

P.S. I guess I’m on a haibun rampage this week for dVerse. Will try to flex  my fingers for some lines and rhymes next time. 😉

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

Windswept Adieu

SYRIA-CONFLICT
A Syrian man holds the body of his child after it was taken from under the rubble of destroyed buildings following a reported air strike on the rebel-held neighborhood of al-Marjah in the northern city of Aleppo, on July 24, 2016. Ameer Alhalbi/AFP

Windswept Adieu

A hopeful heart
Of dreams that soar
A dearth of chance
Life bestows

A father’s tears
On daughter’s wake
Throughout the years
A heart that breaks

A silent scream
To the skies
Who is to blame?
A mouthful curse

A soft whisper
A gentle kiss,
The breeze sends
A windswept adieu

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image via  Rappler


Today’s Filipino word prompt is “pahimakas” which means “last farewell”.

My heart breaks for the people of Aleppo after the series of airstrikes that befall them. These needless wars and deaths are draining the last faith in humanity that remains in me. We, human beings, must stop killing each other and use our religious faith as an excuse to do so. Because truth is, TERRORISM HAS NO RELIGION. It never did and it never will. 😥

Come on! Write a poem or a fiction
Snap a photo under the sun
A six-word tale or a long post, perhaps?
Let’s all get word-high this July!

Want to join the fun? Find the prompt words HERE! Don’t forget to pingback & use the tag WordHighJuly. Mazel tov! 😉

banner-1

A Better Day

nd6a8420crop2-2-2mn

A Better Day

She was sunshine personified. Every single day, her eyes beamed brighter than the sun’s rays and her smiles radiated warmth and grace. But beneath her sun-draped skin and rosy cheeks, she craved for the night to come. She ached for the last remnants of the day to roll in with the dusk so she could plunged into her bed faster that anyone could— for her soul was tired. Tired from trying too hard. Trying to paint a smile in this blood speckled  world. Trying to hold on to what is left of humanity yet they continued to slip away. Trying to rip off those labels that distorted mankind’s vision. Trying to break the walls that divided the people of the earth. Her soul was tired from all these needless “versuses”. Black versus white. Rich versus poor. Islam versus Christianity. America versus Europe versus Asia versus Middle East. Them versus us. You versus me. In the comfort of her bed, she curled herself the way crocuses tucked themselves at night and prayed for a better day.

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photography by Anna O.


Today’s Filipino word prompt is “takipsilim” which refers to “twilight or dusk”.

Come on! Write a poem or a fiction
Snap a photo under the sun
A six-word tale or a long post, perhaps?
Let’s all get word-high this July!

Want to join the fun? Find the prompt words HERE! Don’t forget to pingback & use the tag WordHighJuly. Mazel tov! 😉

banner-1

A Scent of Peace

banksy_wall-flower-thrower1

A Scent of Peace
A Dizain

Must we walk along blood speckled street?
Hearts drumming, teeming with fears.
Must we cower in silence on our defeat?
Watch men die, cry a river of tears.
Fighting battles with bombs and spears
Have we had enough of this death and uproar?
We must put an end, to you I implore—
This pointless game of kill and destroy.
For isn’t the scent of peace sweeter than war
And tears more priceless when of joy?

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Graffiti by Banksy via Tree of Life


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: Empire of Scents

Poet’s Pub today is hosted by Grace with her scents of childhood. Our poetry challenge is to dive into the world of scents. Drizzle your verses with spices, if you are a lover of food.   Make us happy or sad, even lusty and sensual, to evoke memories. Fill our plate with your scented words, and fill our nostrils with emotions.

*My heart bleeds for the lives lost at Istabul and it scorches with rage towards the pointless reasons behind these crimes. Sigh. The image above is a graffiti by Bansky entitled, “Rage, Flower Thrower”. This artwork is reminiscent of 1960’s campus and street riots. The colorful flowers are in exchange for a grenade is a bid for peace and the end to all massacres in the name of war.

Behind Closed Doors

1f1f30ff-11ee-428c-bdad-354fc23ae1f0-620x372

Behind Closed Doors
Rispetto

A little girl who counts to three
An old man on a rocking chair
A man, a woman, a family
Tears and laughter; a heartfelt prayer

In a flash, all these were gone
In a blast, ceased the rising sun
An endless ruin behind closed door
Of misery, the ruins roar

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: Open a new door with me

Poet’s Pub today is hosted by Lillian who took us to an Alice-adventure with her poem. Looking forward to sharing more cups of coffee with you, too! 🙂

P. S. The photo above is an artwork by a British graffiti artist named Banksy who found a canvas in  the war-scarred ruins of Gaza after the 50-day battle between Israel and Hamas last 2015. Banksy was able to depict the misery and distress of the people in his satirical murals. This image of a weeping goddess that he had spray-painted on the iron door of a destroyed home, for instance, has stirred myriad of emotions around the world.

dverse

Guilt

We were trained to hit, not just shoot. It sounds cruel, but we’re taught to kill seamlessly in a shot without feeling the slightest guilt. Whichever side a soldier is on- America, Russia, China, or Syria- we always believed we’re on the right side. We have to. And by the time we stepped behind our enemy’s line, we’re bound to kill or be killed.

So there we were, moving stealthily along empty houses where our foes, reportedly, hide. It only took one noise before the firing started. It lasted for only thirty-three minutes but it felt like a lifetime. Dead men lay sprawled out and crooked in the mud. Victory was on our side.

Or so we thought.

Amidst the mutilated corpses, stood a howling dog; its cry was haunting. I drew nearer to find it licking a dead woman’s face. There were children in there, too.

I walked as far away from that killing ground. The dog, to my surprise, followed my scent. Filled with guilt, I kneeled to meet its eyes, “Forgive me.”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. I’ve known from the moment I saw the photo prompt from pixabay that it would probably entail a heartbreaking story from most of us. So here I am, joining the band.

Enjoy more stories here:

Up ↑