Sunday, April 30, 2017

Catching Up to GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 24: Charlene

I am the youngest child.
I'm cute, but bad and wild.
I am the eldest child,
Everything right and mild,
And I'm the middle child,
Very perfect and kind.

My dad worked in the news,
But you'll never find him.
Mom bought lots of makeup,
But her face is still bare.
I had a young brother,
But I'm an only child.

My cousin is adopted,
But I am the outsider.
The big house belonged to us,
But we got kicked out of it.
They sold us out to save him,
But he still lost his life.

My real name is Bobbee,
But my name is Bata.
Just when I had no teeth,
He said I bit like a cat.
It takes a group of people
To defeat one, little me.

I lived in Silang,
Lived in Marikina,
In Quezon City's fang,
In eastern Manila,
Lived in Mandaluyong;
Count every location.

I come from the farthest
Of mountains and valleys
To arrive earliest.
I am the "retard" who solved
The problems he can't solve.

I can draw his whole face
Without looking at him.
I was most miserable
When I had everything.
Also, I took control
To let go of it all.

Been dating everyone's crush
Without leaving my house.
I was extremely poor
Because I was extremely wealthy,
And I fell in love
With someone you don't know.

I've been on a shelf
Even before my book.
She said she'll stay with us,
And then she moved with him.
I have been renting
The room of a squatter.

I had all the relatives
To make me feel unloved.
I am not hearing you
Because you keep talking.
I don't look like the culprit
Because I am the culprit.

Catching Up to GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 23: Love

Makes you
Live on Earth,
In heaven, and hell;

Ends you.
In unknown darkness,
A new adventure awaits

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 30: Redezvous

When I lose direction
And I'm just careening
Without a reflection
About where I'm going,
You're always catching up,
You're there to make me stop.

When I fall to the ground,
You can always catch me
And guide me all around,
For you can make me see
What others just cannot.
How you help me a lot.

I'll always count on you,
For you're reliable.
Helping me make it through,
Made me strong and able.
Though you make me suffer
Each day, I am better.

In your arms, in your gaze,
Everything can unfaze,
Though I'm lost in your ways.

To know you is power,
Meeting you is special
Forever and ever.
Praising your words, I shall.
Words that float to my ears
In your smile through the years.

Spying behind the trees,
Inviting me again.
Now, I am the one who sees
That there's never an end,
Only every new clue
That will begin with you.

GloPoWriMo 2017, Day 29: My Other Half

I can tell just everything
About the mountains
and birds that are flying
As I walk on the grains
Of gentle Demeter,
I can't do it better

Than your powerful strength
That can carry the rocks
Along the longest length.
In these, the small me lacks.
I'll just watch in wonder
And on this I ponder

How you have everything
That I just never have,
But you can never sing
The power that I have
In every word and rhyme.
Maybe you can just mime.

But still, I so need you
To put order up here.
All ideas I blew
Into the winds not near,
You can collect again
More than before, you can.

So take my hand a breathe
The air that comes from you.
Be yourself from beneath
My every art and clue.
Together, we're a whole
And we make just one soul.

In all your odd features,
In all of my problems,
This love rebuilds and cures
In all unique emblems.
Though our troubles have grown
When we were our own.

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.

Saturday, April 15, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 15: Pick Up Where You Left

As soon as life begins,
Everything moves forward
In all possible means.
There is not a reward
For who gets there fastest,
For this is all a test

Toward the next level,
For the past has ended.
It is destroyed. Revel
Over all the jaded,
For you have made it here.
Don’t be challenged by fear

When things go to nothing,
When the sun goes down there,
When everything’s falling,
When all things turn unfair,
When it only gets worse,
And when your voice gets coarse.

Because you are still here
And the clock keeps turning.
The past you can still hear,
Everything you’re learning
From every fall and loss.
Stop listening to those

Who say it’s gonna end,
Who say this is your fate,
For whoever has penned
The ending didn’t wait
To see the last result.
Must have been an insult.

Because you are still here
And all the time you’ve spent
Worrying, wallowing;
All the time can be spent
Making it all better.
Don’t you wait for later.

This is the point in life
To continue living.
Forget about their strife,
You gotta keep moving,
For it hasn’t ended,
And you are just not dead.

Friday, April 14, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 14: Bill Gates

Bill Gates.
Call him to a person who waits
For the original Microsoft to reopen
And fix the bugs of Windows 10.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 13: Order in the Court

Today, I write couplets.
Some poets write couplets.

I'd like to break away
Beyond works of couplets.

I'd like to be in free verse,
And battle these couplets.

But what is disorder
When facing the couplets?

For life is made of two's..
That's why they love couplets

Anything out of place
Is trampled by couplets.

So I shall never dare
To oppose great couplets.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 12: Two of Us

Blank stare that cannot see
The things that you can touch,
But I see a whole sea
Of all your sides, I watch
As they take every form,
Around my brain, they worm.

Lost in my own dream land,
Missing from your embrace,
Your emotion's demand,
But my heart can still race
For us, for you, just you.
I love. Nobody knew.

The black can become white,
And day can become night,
Right here, I'm out-of-sight.

I can walk to my home
While I'm sleeping and dream
About parts of the chrome
In all of its sharp gleam
In another country,
For I'm locked, but I'm free.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 11: The Writer

How can I write a book
I already started?
Where shall I start to look,
Where the three friends parted,
Or on his final kill?
How will it make me feel?

There is always a way.

How will I wear his thoughts
As I live every day
Without his victims' ghosts?
Whatever they can say
Doesn't apply to me.
Doesn't make me happy
To kill these characters
With a hand that batters.

There is always a way.

One day, a boy told me,
"Take a break, write something
Different, out of here.
Let your mind go resting,
And then you can go back,
Again, follow your track."

There is always a way.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 10: Seriously, She's Funny

Even crabs have their shells
Like shelters near mountains,
The ones near the old wells.
Roofs covering the rains,
Casting shadows over,
Breaking open never.

Do you know what still lies
Within the dark abyss?
As the water spring flies
In the wells that we miss
During the hot summer
When you pause and stammer

For the water is gone
And there is nothing left,
You'll think that life is done
As all the children wept.
Then the sky breaks open,
The waters it will send.

To the hungry, longing
Hearts of every human.
Were you imagining
All you and every man,
That the world was this kind?
Always falling behind.

In the world of revenge
Is forgiveness and love.
Behind the heat of rage,
Is a moment we can have
Beneath the warm red leaves
Of a tree that believes.

In the slanting of sun
And the colors of gold
Cast by artists in fun,
Artists who are so bold
That they hide in the winds
And see whoever sinned.

But there's calm in the woods
As they embrace softly.
Gone are all of the moods,
Left are all things lovely,
Intoxicating grapes,
You won't sense any hate.

And then the gloom. The end.
It comes just so quickly,
It'll make your sorrow bend
To find very quickly
Where it had fallen from.
Still, cold winter has come.

It's endlessly chilling
Unfeeling feet and toes.
In the darkness, it's fading,
The sun, the one who knows
The great warmth of the past,
The days that didn't last.

But the snow sparkles on
Though blanketing the world.
It will keep going on
Like crystal balls of old,
Predicting everything,
And just predicting spring.

Monday, April 10, 2017

NaPoWriMo, Day 9: Sappho - Intro

Sappho - Intro

Like the paws of a cat
The surface of the ice.
On the white, my blades cut.

She is a great power.
Like color of my eyes,
Her slopes are going lower

Into the unknown world,
Where it was dark and nice
In the stories of old.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

NaPoWriMo, Day 8: Feel Free to Procrastinate

Today's poetry prompt at the NaPoWriMo site is writing a repetitive poem. I have fear of repetition and I almost rebelled against this prompt. I came up with a good idea, though. This poem tells how I procrastinate for school projects. The title is inspired by one of the things that Harvard Computer Science Professor David Malan likes to say about submitting the school projects, "Feel free to procrastinate a bit."

Maybe it is just me, or professors and teachers have a way of staying on their students' minds. I can almost repeat every phrase that Professor Malan likes to say, including, "Computers are dumb." He is one of the best professors of Harvard. I wish all professors spoke as quickly as he does. Because I usually fall asleep when the professor speaks slower than Professor Malan. I just have to say this because he is really great.

Feel Free to Procrastinate

I have deadlines coming
To work on blah and blah.
But first, I am going
To meditate. Ooh. Ah.
I need my relaxed state
So I cannot be late.

Do it now. Don't be late.
Do not procrastinate.

I need to eat breakfast
Because I need to be strong.
And I shouldn't eat fast,
Lest I'll digest this wrong.
If I don't get much food,
My health won't be this good.

Do it now. Don't be late.
Do not procrastinate.

Oh, I need to get out
To get some real fresh air.
Shouldn't study brains out,
Should cherish weather fair.
See through the morning cold
The beauty of the world.

Do it now. Don't be late.
Do not procrastinate.

I am hungry again.
And it is my lunchtime.
But shouldn't I just bend
My old routines for the time?
For it's halfway through the day
And I know what they'll say

Do it now. Don't be late.
Do not procrastinate.

Friday, April 7, 2017

NaPoWriMo, Day 7 (Part 2): Next, Please

I have been falling behind in NaPoWriMo because I used the early-bird prompt. So I am creating two poems today to catch up. The prompt for today is writing a poem about luck and fortuitousness. They asked us to create lists in preparation for the poem. Here is my list.

1. Random objects: bottle, bag, pillow
2. Random but specific locations: in front of my desk, on my bed, on my chair
3. Objects I've lost and a few notes on their back-story: My previous home. I lost the place on the night of my birthday when the whole neighborhood went on fire after an accident in one of my neighbors' houses. Also, a toy shark I had when I was a child. My family had an emergency at that time. We rushed to the hospital after reporting to the police. I forgot where I put my toy shark and I never found it again.
4. Objects I have found and a few notes on their back-story: My current home. The fire in my previous home happened on December 27, and we were left without a home after that. My family drove from place to place in search of a new home for the rest of December 29, and we chose this place among all of the other places. This new home was supposed to be only for a temporary stay, but it's starting to feel comfortable in here. Also, a refill for my fave pen. I have a fave pen that I just don't want to replace, but it has run out of ink. Local bookstores recently started selling refills for my pen, and I'm so happy about it.

I find it amazing how the instructions from the NaPoWriMo site helped me to create a poem about fortuitousness. It also helped me let go of the horrors of the past and realize how I've been making it, and that I've truly been making it. I have been finding it easy to finish tasks quickly lately. Whenever I finish a new task, the only thing on my mind is, "Next, please." That's why I gave this poem that title.

Next, Please

A pillow on my chair
Burning on my birthday.
Ablaze is the night air,
Houses and debris lay
In burning neighborhood.
Fire blasting every wood.

Rushing out on four wheels
To let the police know.
My beloved fate seals
To let the doctor know,
But I will never find
The friend I left behind.

Finding a place to sleep
After all sleepless nights,
After driving down steep
And up stairs in flight
With the time we have left
Before this year is swept.

So am I still okay?
For I am still breathing,
It's a beautiful day,
And I am still eating.
One good day at a time,
Improving in each rhyme.

It's now okay to stay
Where there are lots of ink
And on my bed I lay.
Have slept more than a wink.
Good morning to the right.
Moving forward to write.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 7: Different Stories of One Internet Troll

The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is writing a poem that looks at the same thing through various points of view. My poetry entry is, again, about one of my stalkers. These are the things that people have told me about him. He likes to troll people.

They say he sometimes pretends to be a man who can't move on from a past relationship and seemed to be eternally heartbroken. They say that, at other times, he pretends to be a job applicant who likes to recite his job interview answers to random people. "I talk to him on Sunday and he says his interview is on Monday. When I talk to him on Thursday, he's still preparing for an interview. He's like that every week," a man told me.

A close friend of mine said she knew one of his troll account, which claimed to be a military man who was looking for a wife on the internet. We all know that real military men don't even have to go online to find women, though. Real military men get chased by women. Also, real military men don't announce to everyone they're military.

The last stanza is the overall theory of the moderators about him in another website. They said he tried to convert people to whatever religion he had, and that he used lots of computers that kept changing locations. They said he posed as a female in the Middle-East. They said he liked to use the names of the other users.

Different Stories of One Internet Troll

A man going through heartbreak,
He is hurt and lonely.
Though his phrases can break
To something not manly,
Stories that sound made up,
But he will never stop.

He's a job applicant,
Training for interview,
Forgetting things, he can't
As he recites his view
For the questions they'll have.
He never gets the job.

Gross, disgusting pervert,
Forward and insulting,
Thought processes revert
To basics while speaking.
An evil pedophile,
Here to pass for a while.

Highly military.
In a break from service.
In love with eyes starry
With pretty, online miss.
In his own, lonely life
And unclassified lie.

African needing help
Over something so obvious
Because his unlucky self
Just found the perfect muse
To pull him out of here,
Begging in every tear.

Man wearing a burka,
In love with little boys,
Copying each mama.
For his god, you rejoice
With all his computers.
Suspecting commuters.

To brighten things up from this weirdness, with regards to looking at the same thing from various points of view, check out "A Dog's Purpose." I recently watched the movie. There is only one word to describe it: p-e-r-f-e-c-t. I just have to recommend it because I so love that movie.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 6: The End of Ends

Oh, I love my poetry entry today. I just have to say it. The NaPoWriMo website asked us to write a poem that's about a part of Nature that we are familiar with. I am so familiar with storms. I actually spent the whole day of Typhoon Haiyan outdoors. The way the wet winds swirl, the flying debris ... I'm so familiar to all of it. The NaPoWriMo website did not specify that we write abstract poetry, so I kept my own style in my poetry: turning Nature into people. I described this storm as an angry person.

It is easy to do because, when you stand in the middle of a powerful storm, you'll get the feeling that Nature is angry at people for filling it with garbage. It's like a human who has totally lost it, and goes wild by destroying anything it can get its hands on. In Tagalog, "nagwawala."

The End of Ends

To stand in your anger
Makes me feel so tiny
Because any danger
Can cut the life of me.
Chance as thin as a thread,
Collapsing like wet bread.

Can I hope against hope
That I can stand right here
Against your power? Nope.
More than the creeping fear
Is the truth that you can
Sweep me away today.

A day that is evening.
With your sigh, they all break
And the woods are weeping.
The howling sounds they make
In their dread of your steps.
Not any panic helps.

Are you scarier when
You speak how  you're feeling,
Or when you're so silent?
In the blackout, lurking.
Whistling through the branches.
Creeping on the ranches.

When you open your mouth
To release all your wrath,
The direction goes south,
And every aftermath
Is racing aimlessly
Through the air so quickly.

They're flying in panic,
They could almost hit me.
And the shelter I seek
Gets torn into a sea
Of all your angry tears
That collected through years.

Years of bearing with us,
Our designs, habits,
And wiles like a young lass,
Corrupted by his beats,
And playing by the rules
Of intelligent fools.

Forgive us for these sins,
For this is just the world,
Someone loses, someone wins
Since the ages of old.
Please be patient with us,
Bring back the thing that was.

For there'll be no buildings,
There'll be no underground,
There'll be no more beauty,
Gone will be every mound
That proves this history
And makes every story.

But nobody can stand
Against your strong anger.
We are all just one band
Under your wet dagger.
We're equal in the end
In tragedy you send.

While you're running amok,
Destroying in your wake,
Unstoppable like rock
In the form that you make,
Sweeping everything wet,
For your decision's set.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 5: How Much Do You Cost?

Today's poetry prompt is an enigma poem. The recent poetry prompts of NaPoWriMo are making me celebrate because those are my faves. When I started out as a poet at the age of 19, I wrote only elegy poems. That was yesterday's poetry prompt.

My poetry entry yesterday was about my late brother, Clarence. It's such a coincidence because his birthday was on the other day. I used one of the discussions in HarvardX to create the poem. It was the discussion about female lament. We discussed how, when women lose someone to death, they feel anger. They feel left alone. When men lose someone to death, they feel regret. I intentionally filled yesterday's poem with anger and a bit of blame.

I also used stories from my relatives and neighbors about Clarence. "I feel I need to hurry home to feed him, and then I realize he's been dead for years."

"I always smell the flowers from his funeral on his birthday."

"I always sense that there's another person in the family, but I'm always unable to find him."

"Hey, Charlene! I saw you walking here last night. You were walking with a boy. Do you have a younger brother?"

Nah, I wasn't with a boy that particular night. I was walking alone and I'm sure there was no one around. I so hated company at that age.

The poem also includes a sentence that Clarence said in one of my strangest dreams, "He will never stop, until he kills you." He was talking about my stalker. Yes, my stalker did keep stalking even after 1 year after the dream. Even though I have yelled and cursed at my stalker to stop stalking, the stalker still keeps stalking.

I do enigma poems a lot that, when the NaPoWriMo website gave enigma as a poetry prompt, I made my new enigma poem more complicated than usual.

This poem is about all of you. It's inspired by a cool man who I met this afternoon. It was a hilarious conversation and I was laughing long after that, telling people about it until they got annoyed at me because I couldn't stop laughing. I made the poem around the topics in a HarvardX discussion on "How much does a human life cost?" We discussed it in Literature at around that part in the reading of the "Iliad" when Agamemnon promised Achilles all kinds of chariots and women just to bring Achilles back to war. I just think that it's important for each of us to ask ourselves what we think we're worth. Are the things we're doing really worth what we want?

How Much Do You Cost?

For how long does it take
To create one poem
That is never so fake,
But a real and full gem
That will inspire your heart,
Then you'll breathe your own art?

And how much does it take
For a deathly emblem
To be crafted for sake
Of the greed of all them
That wants power on all
By making all else fall?

What do you represent?
Things you're made of assent
To the meaning you meant?

So how much does it cost
To give your everything
When everything is lost,
To go on, keep holding,
Even when there's no one,
Even when it's all done?

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 4: To Be Here and Alive

To Be Here and Alive

A sunrise that's covered
By stormy clouds that rain
On my skin. I shivered,
The feelings in my brain
Of a touching embrace ...
They still make my heart race.

The echoes keep calling
As I follow the scent,
But it goes on fading
In a life that is spent
With past I can't repeat
And future where we'll meet.

Why did you leave me here?
Alone in daily fear
While enemies draw near.

I see you in faces
In the crowds I observe
And I feel your presence
In the words I still serve,
But the devil still stays
In the details of days.

You're a beautiful dream
When I woke up and missed.
All of the things you seem
In the soft morning mist,
You're the mirage ahead,
You are the lies they said.

For he will never stop.
Call me when it's over,
When I'm dead, floating up
I won't live forever.
I'll tell you what it's like
To be here and alive.

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 3: Sleep

I was busy all day with my family (it's my late brother's birthday) and busy all night working on an article. I didn't even get to work on my mind map! Such a panic-worthy situation!

Anyway, today's poetry prompt is recipes. I should write a poem that's inspired by a recipe. My recipe poem is the recipe for sleep ... because I just wanna sleep. Goodnight, world!


Cool down the evening winds.
Hide the sun behind slopes.
Slow the movement of minds.
Strengthen the hungry hopes.
Shut the other senses.
Also, shut the fences.

Bury face in pillow,
And a thick, warm blanket.
Make the cushion go low,
And be heavy and late.
Let go of all worries,
The crazies, and scaries.

Check after ten minutes
Sweet dreams behind the bricks,
And stop the conscious leaks.

Sprinkle with the tiredness
That's cut out from a day
Of endless busyness.
And add another way,
A hope for a new dawn,
Then freeze until not brown.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 2: Where Am I?

Poetry Entry

Today, the NaPoWriMo website challenges us to write a Kay-Ryan-esque poem. This poetry type is inspired by the poems of Kay Ryan. They have short, tight lines.

I wanted to write a certain poem today. The kind of poem I wanted to write would look better in a poem that has long lines. It looks okay in the short lines, though.

I wanted to write a poem about both of the movies, "A Cure for Wellness" and "Get Out." It's about that situation when what you know and see are far different from what a person is telling you.

Where Am I?

Where am I?
The flashbacks
Keep flashing.
Is it why
I am back
And wishing
I can fly
And not stuck
In this thing?
When I cry,
They just whack.
They're telling,
They deny,
And they flock
To this thing.
While I die
On my back,
I'm hearing
Their whole lie
On this rock.
I'm fleeing
To get by
And to duck
In the wing.
Tell the guy,
Though he mocks.
I'm swelling,
My mouth dry,
My mind's hacked.
I defy
To fight back,
But nothing.
Tell me why
I am back.
Where am I?

The Movies

When I first saw the trailer of "A Cure for Wellness," I freaked out because I thought that those were snakes. In that scene where Lockhart was given a water therapy, I was freaking out in my chair. I was screaming, "What are those?! What's that?! Yuck! It's gross!" I was watching it with my family.

We noticed by the end, though, that the creatures don't move quite like snakes. I realized they were just eels, and it made me less scared of the movie. I love their lookalikes, the electric eels. I once said on Facebook that, if I were to turn into an animal, I'll choose to be an electric eel. Their electric abilities are cool. Zzzap!

I think "A Cure for Wellness" was written to show snakes swimming with hospital patients. I guess somebody pointed out, "That's impossible. Snakes don't swim around people in enclosed areas without attacking." Maybe the filmmakers didn't want to make it too wild. So they chose similar animals for the movie, hoping the eels will have the same freak out factor as snakes. Anyway, we did not finish the movie because my family got bored.

"Get Out," on the other hand, is so scary. I don't even know what to say about it.

Camp NaNoWriMo

I still haven't written anything for Camp NaNoWriMo, because I'm busy building a mind map. I'll catch up when I finish the map. I can write 8,000 words in one day anyway (Camp NaNoWriMo requires roughly 1,500 words per day to win).

That's all for today. See you again tomorrow!

Saturday, April 1, 2017

NaPoWriMo 2017, Day 1: The Lost Sheep

Welcome to April! It's finally the National Poetry Month again! I delight in this month of total creativity. I'm blogging live again. We are starting with my entry for today.

My NaPoWriMo Entry

The NaPoWriMo site finally created an early-bird poetry prompt for Eastern poets. I am on the other side of the world, so this new style is helpful to me. It is wonderful that they finally provide poetry prompts to poets who are in a different time zone.

The poetry prompt for this day is a haibun. It has a funny-sounding name. It makes me think of a loaf of Japanese bread. It is actually a poetry form that combines a piece of prose with a haiku. The description that the NaPoWriMo website gave suggests it is usually metaphorical.

I made mine metaphorical. It is actually about one of my stalkers. I like writing about my enemies. Because writing is about many perspectives. I train my ability to write in many perspectives by writing about people who hate me. My earliest poem about a stalker was "A Demon Behind My Steps."

I based my poem on several works. My poem mentions a scene from "The Way of the Eagle" by John Arcovio. It is that scene when the lead eagle dived down to catch a rabbit. His eyes were so focused on his prey, that he did not notice the rabbit was behind a barbed wire. He hit the barbed wire and he hung upside-down there for the whole day, unable to break free. His mate found him and fed him. It was one of my fave books, even though it had no dialogue and highly scientific.

My poem also borrows a term from the Catholic Bible. "Lost sheep" describes people who are bad. The Bible describes them as lost and needing guidance. "Sheep," in my poem, also refers to the Chinese zodiac sign. Because my stalker is a Sheep.

The Lost Sheep

The blue skies are invaded by black clouds and lightning. Soon, the bright day becomes a dark night. The eagle chases his food on the ground, not seeing the trap. Powerful waves slam on rocks, turning them into the sand. The sheep wanders far, until he's lost.

Come, take the right road,
And follow the lighted path,
For your sins are forgiven.

The Blog

I redesigned my blog. I have been dreaming of redesigning it since 2015, but it is only now that I succeeded at it. My web badges are now complete and in order, and there is finally an About the Author area. I plan to add more elements soon.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Here is an embarrassing confession: I haven't started my entry for Camp NaNoWriMo yet. I spent this whole day procrastinating over only this blog post. I will try to dive into my revision of "Holland" head on tomorrow. It is my first anti-hero story. It's fun to think from the villain's point-of-view, but it kinda alters my mind. It makes me need plenty of writing breaks.

"An Unknown Narrator"

My first book is now available on several publishing outlets. I will provide the links when I get more time. I worked on the publications all March while doing my job and the maintenance of this blog.

Thank you for reading and again, welcome to April!