Saturday, April 29, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 28: The Mirage

One word at a time, love.
Like waves that come at me,
Bleeding those words, I have.
Next month, I will be free
To miss this day and time.
Like collecting a dime

And yet another dime,
Until you make it big.
Baby steps ain’t a crime,
Always done in my league.
And even if you crawl,
They will just go to drawl.

As long as you arrive
Beyond the second five,
For you just gotta strive.

And when you think you’ll lose,
When you almost give up,
When all your ends are loose,
And you decide to stop.
Only one step to make,
And you will make your break.

(Sorry for disappearing again yesterday, guys. I just got a severe headache, because I'm actually still sick. I'm supposed to be recovering, but I've been working too hard. I prioritize my other tasks over NaPoWriMo.

Anyway, my poem is inspired by Camp NaNoWriMo. There is always a mirage that serves as a horrible illusion in front of an unfinished book. It discourages the writer from ever writing the first word, and it remains your demon all throughout the project. It fades by the end, though, and you realize it was just a book. Just saying.)

Camp NaNoWriMo word count: 16,910

Thursday, April 27, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 26: 2020's

Thousands of years ago,
People used some plastics,
Where many things can go.
Longer than inch of six,
Thinner than my finger,
Molded to be smaller.

These square plastics contained
A flat sheet of clear glass,
Folded to be maintained
With the tiny metals
In small pieces inside
Its narrow lower side.

They used these to write,
Play, and communicate
With other humans right
Or left of their own place
All over the whole world
Back in the days of old.

Virtual realities,
Holograms of cities,
It was 2020’s!

These plastics can connect
Everyone everywhere
Within a second next.
In modern days out here,
We’ve come a long way from
The tetrabytes for RAM.

Camp NaNoWriMo word count: 4,773

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 25: The Room of Dreams

One day, I was resting
After a long, long walk,
Before much more walking.
I was too tired to talk.
Then I looked up and saw
A high and dark window.

It was in a huge house
That was overlooking
The valley where my blouse
Will be warmed by shining
Rays of the setting sun
A long time from year one.

As I stood there below,
Silently gazing up
This great, hidden window,
I simply couldn’t stop
To dream that I was there,
Up in the peaceful air.

How nice it would have been
To have my own bedroom
And things that can be seen
From such a kind of home,
From such a high window.
My dreams began to grow.

To see every real slope,
Observe the aligned trees
Cling to the ground in hope
As the wind sings and breathes
While illuminated
As night and morning wed.

Though I was still right there,
Below the high, high house,
Existing so unfair
And as small as a mouse,
Although I walked away
Because I couldn’t stay

O I have lived to tell.
I’ve been to the valley,
The slopes, the winds that swell.
In blouse that wave lightly
From a room that still seems
To build even more dreams.

(Note: I skipped for 2 days because I got sick.)

Camp NaNoWriMo word count: 2,572

Sunday, April 23, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 22: No Land

There is a land to plow,
Where you can work so hard
To plant the seeds that grow
To green leaves that reach far
Above the brown, low soil.
In the sun, it won't boil.

Because it belongs here
As it produces all
Colorful flowers near
To a poetic call,
Before gifting us fruits
That soon drop to its roots.

Continue to water.
Each day, it gets better
And Nature grows stronger.

There is no land for waste,
Where you can throw all things;
This is not how we're raised
In all the polluting.
There's no land, no, no land.
It's done by our hand.

Because it disappears
When you don't treat it right,
And in all of these years,
There is less and less might.
There are more lands that go,
And there's less land to plow.

Friday, April 21, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 21: Hear No Evil

I don't overhear things.
Because I don't listen
To the scandalous flings,
Nor write them through my pen
As long as they don't talk
To me when I don't walk.

I don't overhear things,
Because I just shut out.
All the words that this brings
Are from myself without
Noticing anything.
There is no sound, nothing.

For I'm in my bubble,
Protected from all noise,
Separate from babble,
Untouched by every voice,
Not hearing anything;
I'll say I know nothing.

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 20: Play By the Winds

Nylon thread round racket.
Every hole, every end
In a uniform set.
And the thread turns to bend
Around this whole hoop
That form a net in loop.

Held in a square pattern,
But always not too tight,
So it may bounce, return
The shuttlecock in flight
Back to the other side
In this green court so wide.

On this sunny summer
In the clearing of trees
Near the moving water,
Winds stronger than the breeze
Take charge, for the buildings
Are far from all these things.

Give it, I want to serve.
I want to start the game,
So I can track every swerve,
Every movement and name,
Each of your hidden tricks,
For which my soul still seeks.

Because I'm here for you,
For the very challenge
Under summer sky blue
That pulls me to the edge,
And get my vibes running.
Every throw, I'm hitting.

To bring it back to you.
It can't be on my court.
With every wind that blew,
Dragging those feathers forth
To wherever they wish,
You better make a switch.

To move with the movements,
Oppose this great Nature,
Agree with elements.
Can you really endure
The way that these winds join?
Challenging every joint.

They're making my arm ache;
You still can't touch my court.
Although the sun does bake,
This will never abort,
Hitting softer, stronger,
Depend on winds' anger.

Whoever can't predict
The way that these winds move,
Whoever isn't strict
Will have a score removed.
There's a high that you'll see
In the last victory.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 19: Novel Creation

It starts with the "What if?" question,
And then the idea starts to build.
Do you choose a character,
Or do you choose a plot?
Either way, you will begin this lot.

Will your protagonist be good-looking?
Will your protagonist be cursed to ugliness?
Add where he will be lacking,
And give him a lot of kindness.
Create him in contrast
To the villain who rises fast.

Who will be his best friend?
Who will be his lover?
Which message does it send
When it's put together?
But before you do this,
Here's what you shouldn't miss ...

Where will your hero live?
Will the readers believe?
Will it be beautiful
With fountains plentiful,
Or will it be so dark
Like the cave of a shark?

You're on your way to tell
A good story so well.
On this plot, they will dwell,
Like a nice tune you hear.
To your heart, it is near.
You'll listen without fear.

Will there be wizards old,
And strong giants so bold?
Don't make the pages fold.

In the name of thy muse,
Guide the words that you use.

Hold your pen and write now.
Write now.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 18: Like the Flower

Menes"n dora asania ashtung~
Ashtukakash nemee ha libe
Gineve korta son long ween|
Gineve quartina~ korta moon~
Sali bejure geys
Den dora feny sol lucius|

Ashor korta devizu~ mit"n most~
Koalain shoka hartos|
Gineve korta shill~ mit luarka|
Shutara~ bellisima~ gadore|
Shola mit ben voez kala
Korta minzen quay uvali jasta miz|

Con loka korta lucius asania|
Gineve godivash diz estopa~
Loka dora extenzimu shay|

Godivash cat mit soala godiva
Puring vor meysher quay|
Mit"n menes vuen mit soala godiva~
Bend mit was fare bis wey
Des korta miel uvali bes mielsi|
Kansha loka gen wan aniv|

Monday, April 17, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 17: Eros

Shadowy waves on shores
As the dark tide rises
And the crocodile soars
Waiting still, motionless.
Reptile eyes are staring
For preys that go walking.

Beyond the beaten path,
Where rocks cover moonlight,
Where the sleeping crocs bath,
Beneath each stalactite,
As the dark, deep cave breathes,
Chilling the snake that writhes.

Out into the silver
Light of the rounded moon,
Shining like a lover
Sings songs and makes you swoon.
Shining for years, decades,
For not real beauty fades.

Wander into the trees
That dance to the music
Of the leaves and the seas,
The grass that the snakes seek,
The bamboos that don’t break.
In noise, no one will wake.

There’s a hole in this ground
Where those who have fallen
Were never ever found.
It’s written by a pen,
But never seen by eyes,
Not even last goodbyes.

Welcome to the wild night,
Playing on the senses,
Confusing in its flight,
Fighting in kind of mess
That nobody can read,
But the whole world still need.

It can hide and evade,
Forever elusive,
High-powered and high-grade
Limited and exclusive
Darkness and secrecy.
Asleep are those who see.

Or it can just reveal,
Bright beyond a big star,
In contrast and with a zeal,
Fighting in a great war
Are the floodlight and night.
But hidden still in white.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 16: A Letter From Outer Space

Dear Whole Humanity,
I feel so lonely now.
How can you still believe,
From the north to the south,
With your full atmosphere,
Ocean waves that draw near

Green trees that breathe your air,
And every animal,
When the weather is fair,
Or when sun's minimal?
With all of your neighbors,
And cruise ships in harbors.

Ah, it must feel so good
To hold his hand in mine,
Sitting on a bench of wood,
Near each other and fine.
Just sitting very close,
Connecting like all those

People around your world,
In pairs and families.
I wish you won't get cold;
Not a moment I'll miss,
If you let me join you
Under your skies of blue.

All I ask is simple:
To live the way you do,
Feel your every dimple.
If you won't make me go,
I'm sincerely yours then,
Your Far, Friendly Alien.