Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul



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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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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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 Lies Of A Fool


The Lies Of A Fool

Four days. It’s the fourth day since you left yet the flowers are still in full bloom. They bask under the sunrays with the colors of whites, greens, and purples. A madman would drink opium down to the last drop after a heartbreak and abdicate the lust for life. But not me. I only needed lies. Lies, you see, lessen the pangs of sadness. I will live with lies if it means climbing the stars with you. I will trick myself with a vague truth if only to get back to you. Back to where we started. A neolithic era of planting love with polished stones. And if, one day, you suddenly reappear, I will thank lies for being my nepenthe. The flowers will never perish and so will this fool.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #164 hosted by Yves and Sunday Writing Prompt: Fine Dining Kitchen Tricks hosted by Pat of Scribbler’s Dipstick.

I managed to jump into blogosphere (after another hiatus) for a quick peak but when I saw Pat’s storyboard, I couldn’t help but write. Argh! Who could resist Bukowski?! ❤
Anyway here’s my take combining the two prompts. Though I’m not sure this has something to do with fine dining kitchen tricks. Hehe. Will be reading your posts in jiff!

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I stand above the building of what seems like the edge of the world. The wind blows a soft hum as my eyes make love to moon. “Are you listening?”, my heart asks. Beneath me is a clutter of city lights— opaque and blurred. I pull for a stick of cigar but a crumpled paper falls out of my pocket instead. Ah, love breaks my bones but here I am laughing with cupid’s cabal. “Are you listening?”, this time it’s my voice. The moon is in absolute silence. An utter quiet that precedes a crackling mirth.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image Source: Pinterest

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #162 and Sunday Writing Prompt: Love Flowers hosted by Pat of Scribbler’s Dipstick.

This one is inspired by Bukowski’s quote: “Love breaks my bones and I laugh.”

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An Inch Closer: The sins we make


An Inch Closer: The Sins We Make

Take your step
An inch closer
And hereafter let’s walk away
Shake world that immures us
Hand in hand,

You need not drown
Yourself in longing
Crave for sweetness—I’ll be the insulin
In a cloudburst of joy we will radiate
Sin slovenly,
I’m your chocolate

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image Source: Favim

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #161.

After another hiatus in the blogosphere, I am back and instantly inspired to write by two awesome poets: 1) another romantic piece from Charles entitled, Chocolate To Me, and 2) a sensual piece entitled,  What I’ve Become, from a newfound blogger, Holly. Make sure to check out their works! 🙂

Also I’ve decided to add this poem to my little collection of An Inch Closer series which you can find here: An Inch CloserAn Inch Closer: Renegades and An Inch Closer: What lies beyond

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Magdalene: Iridescence 


Magdalene: Iridescence 

The stars,
They fail to shine tonight
The moon cowers in silence
Two pairs of burning eyes
Latch onto each other
Passion laced with heat
Legs entwine
Dancing lonesome away
An iridescence no darkness can hide
Inseparable from night till day

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Image source: Favim

In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #147.

Last year, in my attempt to explore various POVs, I wrote two pieces that may or may not have looked into the ordinary life of a prostitute. The poems revolve around the fictional life of Magdalene (as inspired by the biblical character). You can read the previous posts from the links below. 

Magdalene , Magdalene: The Ritual

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