Tag Archives: writer

Sundowns of Summer

25 Jun

Even more excruciating than the summer heat was the wait for the dusks that took almost forever to come. For she desired nothing more than to experience the wave of silence that washed over the city as the sunk began to sink, to feel that time is after all, unstill and constantly changing.



24 May

I have written down words tainted with his soul. I have spilled my ink in the form of his face. So that every single time you will read these lines, I will smile as the beat of his heart begins to echo from within these pages. He resurrects back to life, through and through. He is my immortal, embedded on this earth forever. So all, but him, will ever know how I kept him alive, while I myself one day turned into dust.

A Writer Born

27 Oct

Somedays are going to be made of everything you can call perfect in the given moment. Then there will be days that feel like an absolute waste that you were better off without them. Progress is stagnant, chaos is absent, and everything seems to be nothing but, well… nothing.

It is in these absent moments that we feel most in connect with ourselves, and it is these moments we learn and become what we have always been, hidden under the surface, from our own consciousness. It is in this moment that we think, and we write.

Writer’s Block

28 Jul

Someday some thing new
Maybe another person, another word, or even another dream
Will trigger the collapse of the obstacles in your way
The dam will break and creative juices will flow
Rushing through the towns in your mind
Flooding out every hidden thing
Trapped inside your neural map.

Odd Thing

10 Jul

I am an odd thing to know
And an even stranger thing to like
You would be ever so lucky if I like you back
Because intimacy, in general, I can never do right.

Do Not Love A Writer

30 Jun

The men who loved her wanted to become heroes of her romance novel
They wanted to be the one to pick her up and gallop her out of her perils

But she bothered not with them
She wrote not of them
Her thoughts were consumed with the ones who didn’t love her back
For she wanted to learn what it was that her full self lacked.

Once Upon a Time, I Wrote a Twisted Murder Mystery

5 Dec

Something in the middle of the day reminded me of this crazy murder mystery I once wrote. When I was, I guess, around 9 years old. Or even years earlier. It was when I was first starting to learn to write with a pen, and had nothing better to write.

Odd? Well, it was a twisted version of Alice in Wonderland. And written in limited vocabulary. I still had a copy of it in my “creative” shoe box I kept hidden in my closet back home. I am still hoping it is there.

The whole thing randomly crossed my mind. I had written it in a course of a few days, and I remember I read it again some years ago, and totally loved it. I was pleasantly surprised by my imagination at such a young age. It was full of twists and turns and, of course, a talking Mr. Rabbit. I enjoyed how I had introduced every character, and all of them had a story of their own. All suffered some kind of loss.

I don’t know why my childhood writing experiment crossed my mind. I had a riddle in the story, and I don’t even know the origin of the riddle. I remember, it started something like, “If an ant had three brothers…”

I searched all over the internet. There is nothing about ants with brothers related to any book or TV I could have come across as a child. When I think about it, I never read the book Alice in Wonderland past the moment she fell into the hole. I just happened to create something myself. And no, I was not on drugs either as a child. That would be completely absurd.

Needless to say, I want to read my own book again. I want to get in touch with my inner Sidney Sheldon. I want to be that imaginative again. Tad bit too twisted for a little girl, eh? Well, shortly after this, I had also written a children’s story =) It was about these imaginary animals in an enchanted forest. I barely remember much of it – just that the waterfall in the middle of the forest was extremely significant.

I am suddenly intrigued to find out what inspired me to write about an orphaned Alice with a big heart who had experienced something traumatic when she was 3, and when she was older (but still not old enough), caught the culprit. I might have watched a lot of action-thriller and horror movies, but I definitely do not recall anything close to what I had written.

If I met this little girl now, I know I would be greatly intrigued by her, wanting to know more about her mind. Was I a genius. Now, I have filled up a once wonderful brain with uber worldly crap. I have to find the time and patience to empty it to return to my original state.