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kreamywrites · 3 years
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I hid myself in highfalutin words because I didn't feel like people took me seriously as a writer, only to realize that it was not the simplicity of jargon they did not so much appreciate, but the way I put each ane every simple thought under a microscope and romanticize it, as if it were the only thing worth the discussion. Should I listen? yes. and. no.
this is going to be a challenge
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kreamywrites · 3 years
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Nothing to Write About?!
A clean piece of paper laid in front of me, waiting to be written on, but my mind was filled with air- I was having it again- another writers block. Though the tip of my pencil seemed so eager and ready to put words in that paper, not one escaped through me. “Of the million things in this world worth writing about, why can’t you think of one?,” I impatiently asked myself. Everything was ready; everything was there-the eagerness, the excitement, the passion- everything, but the words
 I stared to nowhere for sometime, somehow looking for an inspiration.
  I scanned my surroundings and lazily read the titles of the books that stood mockingly at my study table
”Oh God, please give me at least one-sixteenth of that inspiration you gave Stephanie Mayer, J.K Rowling or even that of Jane Austen,” I silently prayed, a few moments passed and still none, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath
when an abandoned abused notebook caught my eyes.
 I felt a sudden rush of excitement through my veins. At the back of my mind, I knew I recognized the notebook. Deep inside me, I feel some kind of happiness seeing it. Somehow, it was memorable. I grabbed it unconsciously and started scanning it. It was nothing very special looking- it had no cover and looked haggard as the papers were yellowish. I examined it and saw, written in crappy hand writing, my first collection of poems
. and it all came back to me.
 It was in third grade when I had to transfer to my new school- away from my circle of friends, and away from my comfort zone. I wasn’t really very enthusiastic in my studies that time and there was nothing particular in my mind... until that faithful day when our Civics teacher asked us to make a poem about nature.
 At first, I wasn’t really excited about it. To me, it was just a requirement a student must submit to earn a grade. Life was that simple for me. But I couldn’t explain how overwhelmed I felt while I was writing that poem. Thousands of ideas collided in my mind. Words kept flooding around me and there I discovered the passion.
 Whether my teacher commended my work or not, I don’t know, but I didn’t stop there- I wrote like I’ve never written before, I’ve learned to write different things, and in different ways. Somehow, it changed me- I felt enthusiasm in most of the things I do. I started to see the world in a different light as I explore new things through my compositions.
 I thought of this as I sat there. I smiled as I remembered all those years. And I felt something so intense
 Inspiration? I don’t know. Passion? I’m not sure. It was spreading throughout my body and burning throughout my soul- it’s inexplicable. It was drowning me again, but at the same time it made me fly
 then, I realized I finished it- my essay.
 It was like de javu. The feeling was familiar
 one which I had already felt before; Still overwhelmed, I stared at my paper and through my crappy penmanship I read to myself the composition I just wrote
 “A clean piece of paper laid in front of me
.”
 © simplyinspired 2009
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kreamywrites · 3 years
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Barren
I am sick to the pit of my stomach
as you turn my words into sparks
that ignite the dynamite wick
you've cleverly placed against the tip of my tongue
as if you knew that at some point
I will be the one to light it
It was your rage, your battles, your bombs
and I was caught in a crossfire--
the land that knew the troubles the left had
and the struggles the right endured:
we were a country bound by affinity
And yet the scene was you
it was always a fight to triumph:
one always has to win,
no compromises or in-betweens
nevermind the bodies, the bloodshed, the burns
nevermind the wounds, the faces, the hurt
nevermind the entirety of the rest of the earth
I was the land between: laid bare
where living things could no longer fare
on gunpowdered resentments
and sharpnels of doubt--
your poisons:
pure, potent, and permanent
this was the moment both of you wanted:
a dynamite explosion is the gunfire that begins the race
it just had to be my voice that starts it
because I am just a ground for slaughter
and never your ground for peace
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kreamywrites · 3 years
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Inked
I write better on paper
because my inscriptions
are not daunted
by a blinking cursor,
but live on ink:
where dashed words are like dead timber on the embankment, now irrelevant--
but still visible, still within hand's reach;
A glint of hope,
just incase I lose the stream of words
to the undercurrent they call "imposter syndrome"
-Kimberlee Tan, 10th April 2:56AM GMT
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kreamywrites · 3 years
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Sabado
#tula #ofw #filipinopoetry #sabado
Nagising ako isang araw, kamakailan:
Napamasid sa paligid,
natigilan at napaisip
"Nasaan ba ako ngayon?"
At sa unang pagkakataon
Makalipas ang maikling panahon,
Naramdaman ko ang lungkot na dala
Ng katahimikang saaki'y bumungad.
Hangin sa bintana kong bukas ang siyang nagpabatid:
Oo nga pala, Wala ako sa Pilipinas;
Walang tunog ng jeep o trasikel man lang sa labas,
Walang kapit-bahay na nagsasampay,
O sumusuway sa mga alagang makukulit,
Walang tunog nang naglilinis o nagsitsimis
Ngunit bakit ko naman 'yun mamimiss?
Ang malakas na tunog ng radyo ni Tatay panggising...
Bombo radyo, o diskong palaging naririnig
O kaya ang daing ni Nanay na sanay
Palaging maagang magising, maligo't magsaing.
Ang bigat ni bunsong dadagan sa'yo
Para piliting makipaglaro, tutal, "sabado naman po."
Hanggang sa mamaya, sa pagod mo nalang
Ay sasabihing, matutulog pa, at babawi nalamang
Sa pagbili ng tingitinging paburito n'yang kendi
Sa may tabing tindahan,
sabay maalalang
Magbabayad pala dapat ng mga nakalistang utang
Bilang kahapon lang ang sahuran.
Simple lang ang buhay doon,
Kaunting salapi ang kita, salat madalas
Ngunit kahit papa'no'y kinakaya naman.
Sinuwerte lang nang makatapak
Sa yaring sulok ng bansang kinaroroonan
Upang makipagsapalaran
Sa mga konspto at mga dayuhang
Malayo sa nakasanayan.
Ito na ako ngayon:
Mukhang marangya sa malayo,
Ngunit sa katahimikan ang bungad ng Sabado,
Ramdam ko ang puwang
na dala ng kakulangan
ng mga Ingay at tunog na nakagisnan
mula sa buhay sa Bayang aking tahanan
-
matagal na palang di sumusulat. 😅 Alam kong Linggo ngayon ngunit Sabado marahil noong una kong sinulat. napulot ko lamang to sa drafts. 😳
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kreamywrites · 3 years
Text
Sabado
Nagising ako isang araw, kamakailan:
Napamasid sa paligid,
natigilan at napaisip
"Nasaan ba ako ngayon?"
At sa unang pagkakataon
Makalipas ang maikling panahon,
Naramdaman ko ang lungkot na dala
Ng katahimikang saaki'y bumungad.
Hangin sa bintana kong bukas ang siyang nagpabatid:
Oo nga pala, Wala ako sa Pilipinas;
Walang tunog ng jeep o trasikel man lang sa labas,
Walang kapit-bahay na nagsasampay,
O sumusuway sa mga alagang makukulit,
Walang tunog nang naglilinis o nagsitsimis
Ngunit bakit ko naman 'yun mamimiss?
Ang malakas na tunog ng radyo ni Tatay panggising...
Bombo radyo, o diskong palaging naririnig
O kaya ang daing ni Nanay na sanay
Palaging maagang magising, maligo't magsaing.
Ang bigat ni bunsong dadagan sa'yo
Para piliting makipaglaro, tutal, "sabado naman po."
Hanggang sa mamaya, sa pagod mo nalang
Ay sasabihing, matutulog pa, at babawi nalamang
Sa pagbili ng tingitinging paburito n'yang kendi
Sa may tabing tindahan,
sabay maalalang
Magbabayad pala dapat ng mga nakalistang utang
Bilang kahapon lang ang sahuran.
Simple lang ang buhay doon,
Kaunting salapi ang kita, salat madalas
Ngunit kahit papa'no'y kinakaya naman.
Sinuwerte lang nang makatapak
Sa yaring sulok ng bansang kinaroroonan
Upang makipagsapalaran
Sa mga konspto at mga dayuhang
Malayo sa nakasanayan.
Ito na ako ngayon:
Mukhang marangya sa malayo,
Ngunit sa katahimikan ng bungad ng Sabado,
Ramdam ko ang puwang ng mga
Ingay at tunog
mula sa buhay sa Bayang aking tahanan
#tula #ofw #filipinopoetry
matagal na palang di sumusulat. 😅 Alam kong Linggo ngayon ngunit Sabado marahil noong una kong sinulat. napulot ko lamang to sa drafts. 😳
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kreamywrites · 4 years
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“lift you’re head, baby don’t be scared
Of the things that could go wrong along the way”
You would sing to me each night like a lullaby
And I would start to snooze as you hit the notes tugging each sweet sound
With a mellow whispering voice at the end of the line;
This is one of those days I wanted to tell you
“Please, don’t hang up”
Because you might as well be giving me the stars right now
Stars I look for in every night sky--
Stars I used to ask myself about,
Do they make twinkling sounds at all?
But you would laugh, ruining the moment
Just before you finish singing the chorus
Segue-ing to how corny you think the song is
And I would’ve said “No, I like it” but I underestimate my revolt with a sigh,
Maybe I should have said it
Maybe then I could start to tell you how good those songs sounded
And let you laugh at my choice of music
Instead of agreeing to every little thing you say
Just so you would like me;
Maybe then I would have gotten it out of the way,
Saw what you would say
And get over myself asking all these “what ifs”
What if you knew that I was this humanoid
Trying hard to be human
And that I know nothing about make up
Or cool songs?
That all the songs I learned to play in the guitar
Were the ones I carefully chose
Because I like the way it sounded
And I like what they try to say?
That I wasn’t really that clever girl in school,
Instead a daughter that felt obligated to please
And a student who needs to work hard for what she gets?
What if I was the "unflitered" me that spoke to the real you?
What if I said “I don’t like cursing”
Because I didnt think it was cool,
And all the other little things I pretended to like just because you were you,
And I was "just me"?
Maybe then I could have been given the hint
That I was the punch line
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kreamywrites · 4 years
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Heal silently and fly against the breeze
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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I wish I was brave
To start THE conversation
You dont want to hear:
Then I can say, that I AM
Exactly who you think I'm not
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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Freedom
I come to you
From the rubbles you left me in
Broken, bruised and burnt,
But much wiser and learned,
To say I now forgive
For I too, am a sinner,
Forgiven seventy-times-seven.
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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“And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.”
— Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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Come around
dear love,
Don't get stuck
In that corner
You were not meant
To stand on,
Find a way
To turn yourself around.
Keep fighting,
Teeth clenched
Knees straight,
Eyes steady,
searching
For that light of an exit
In this endless maze
Called "life"
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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I came
To say
"goodbye"
But you wouldnt let me.
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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Guilt
Walking the walk
Talking the talk
Today, we do the same:
Just like yesterday,
Pretending
Everything is okay
Minimizing the squints
You feel like doing
When nobody seems to notice,
Taking less toilet breaks:
So that you are not left alone
In a silent room
That can echo the sound of your voice
And heed to that desperate desire
To bawl your eyes out
Because you always
Feel
like
crying...
Come on, Stop.
Swallow it all.
Gulp.
Inhale, exhale slowly.
We can do this again
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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Living day to day:
One step closer each time
To the best version of me;
But the challenge remains
As the day closes in
And I am left alone
In my own company;
A faint voice says
"calm down. Rest."
As my head fills with loud cheers
Of anxiety
"we will be okay"
Night by night we will concentrate
On the faintest voice
As if our sanity depends on it.
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kreamywrites · 5 years
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I fill the void
With words
Of Apologies,
Anger,
And arrogance,
When I know
It will take time,
Persistence,
And love
To fill the hole
You left behind
When you walked away
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