Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul


Writing 201

Bluer than blue


Ours was not a wintry weather
A rosebud wrapped in cold, white plague
Nor a walk on a frozen surface
A shiver under sheets of ice and sleet
No, it wasn’t a string of pretense
A game of bleak charade and deceit
We didn’t die in isolation either
Or froze in ennui and dismay

On a cold, white snow we were burning
On a cold, white snow we’re ablaze
Swathed in the warmth of the winter sun
It was a dance round a cold blazing flame
No, ours was not a wintry weather
It was a stride under cerulean skies
Amid the bleached trees and naked frames
Our fire glows, bluer than blue

Our Writing 201 has already come to an end. It was an immensely stimulating two weeks of excellently curated poetry workshop and it was such a pleasure meeting different people of brilliant minds. I’ll be definitely looking forward to our next course. Now, for a very late submission, here’s my take on our Day 9 task. 🙂

Prompt: Cold
Form: Concrete Poetry
Device: Anaphora

Flavor of my days

© berlinartparasites (artwork by Jo In Hyuk)

Your soft, gentle kisses on a bright, early morn
The wrap of your arms ‘round my waist when I pulled  you down for a cuddle
The warmth of your breath on my nape sending shivers along my spine
Your stare screaming of sweetness as I look at you in the eye
Your voice with a tang of anger on the night of our fight
The roughness of your touch as you pulled me into our couch
The cold silence between us with nothing but the ceiling and walls
Your stare piercing through my beating heart before you walked out of the door
The flowers and chocolates and teddy bear and the note outside my door
Saying you’re sorry and how you hold me dear; that last night you we’re a fool
The bacon and egg for our morning meal atop the table for two
And a cup of coffee with a heart on it, your way of saying ‘I love you so’
The long stretch of time as I wait for you on our table for two
My restless heart getting edgy as the clock strikes noon
The knock on our door by an officer saying how in a car crash, I lost you
The deafening sound of my anguish as I melt down the cold, hard floor

The recent taste of my every day since the day that I’ve lost you
A brand new flavor to my day by day, in things that I say or do
With you my days were extra—extra bitter, extra sweet, or a mix of both
But now, without you they’re dull, weak, and tasteless; dismal and cruel.

Day 8 in Writing 201: Today is a day of melancholy, loss and, longing. I had this wild imagination that maybe in a parallel world, a version of me had gone through a tough time and lost the love of her life. (I know, cruel!) But anyway, this is her story and this is for her lost love.

Prompt: Flavor
Form: Elegy
Device: Enumeratio

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

Beautiful Mess


Our Day 6 in Writing 201 is all about Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus. I’ve written a lot about faces yet it’s my first time to do a found poetry and chiasmus. I intended to cut pieces from old magazines to make it look arty but I got swamped at work and had no time. Still, all ends well– thanks to Shakespeare and Hardy for letting me borrow their words. These poetry sages never did fail to amaze me. 🙂

Prompt: Faces
Form: Found Poetry
Device: Chiasmus

An Ode to 6th street


You are the memory lane
Of long walks and
Dancing in the rain.
Your pavement is warmth
With our footsteps
Two pairs of prints
Side by side.
The trees chant of a romantic song
Swaying with the wind
Playing a wondrous music.
The lamppost at the end of your road
Is my northern star
Taking me home.
Casting its light over our love nest
A wooden bench
Where my love waits
In his crescent smile.
Two souls stuck in a black hole
Time frozen still
Lost in the void.
6th street you are my oasis
Keeping my love alive
For I may have lost
The warmth of his touch
But your are a memento
Of what we once had.

Sickness took its toll during the weekend and my mind is both a mess and a chaos. Odes and metaphors are lovely pairs but it took me quite some time to make one that involves the idea of  a ‘map’. I hope this one does justice.

So here goes my attempt to blend Ode and metaphor for our Writing 201 Day 5 assignment. 🙂

Prompt: Map
Form: Ode
Device: Metaphor


If the Earth is heaven and tears
Are glee, would you still fear?
If past is present and bad
Is good and those we call ‘sad’
Cease to exist, would things be clear?
If bland is sweet and beauty
Is flawed and I am you as you are me
Would it truly be fair?
Would it end despair?
Would we finally live in peace and serenity?

Our Writing 201 Day 4 assignment brought me back to my aimless musing of ‘what ifs’. But personally, I think perfection is a matter of POV– and so does imperfection.  Now, for the late entry, here’s my take. 🙂

Prompt: Imperfect
Form: Limerick
Device: Enjambment

Burning Fire


Today I saw a maiden—her skin so fair and long blond hair scream of a youthful beauty; those rosy lips and blushing cheeks best the darling buds of May. But if I have to say what I truly see, it’s beyond a splendor that declines. For I have seen the burning fire boundless by death or time. I see her wound that left a scar and forever will leave its mark. I hear the sound of shattered glass ringing in my ears. And how her touch is a warm proof of how she fought the pain she bears inside. Today I saw a maiden—she prayed that I, too, be fearless and will never ever hide.

I love reading and listening to prose and spoken poetry though I’m not really good at both. So here goes my attempt to prose poetry with a blend of internal rhyme for our Writing 201 Day 3 assignment. 🙂

Prompt: Skin
Form: Prose Poetry
Device: Internal Rhyme

The Gift

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Many years have passed since I left,

In search for a certain gift
As worthy as one’s tears of joy
As prized as one’s last breath

Only to find it in a woman,

An image of love in every inch
Her beauty is eternal like an old photograph
Her heart is pure like a unicorn’s, and

Many years have passed since I found,

The world’s most cherished gift
Unparalleled, priceless, and singular
A treasure. A joy. And I call her ‘Mom’

Just recently, my mom celebrated her birthday and I can’t help but think of her with today’s prompt. She’s always been a gift to me and to our family, well, all moms are.

So here goes my Day 2 entry. A poetry sashimi to all moms out there! 🙂 🙂

Prompt: Gift
Form: Acrostic
Device: Simile



Shackled by no chain
Shadowed figure still remained
Shagged shape sheared of gleam

With nothing but dark and light
With nothing but eyes and mind

If I were a student, my professor would probably be yelling at me right now– “You’re late!”. For days, my mailbox has been nothing but chaos and I lost most of my emails. Good thing I’ve found my Writing 201 assignments. Now, for the late entry, here’s my Day 1 poetry sashimi. 🙂

Prompt: Screen
Form: Tanka
Device: Alliteration

PS. forgive my alliteration, it’s my first time.

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