It's nanowrimoBut I got no novel in me, no.Nothing new here you know,I am not versed in the long form, so... Mine are short piecesBolts of what I'd like to call brillianceIt's a jaunty decadence Of words and sounds It lacks discipline.Its cadence is jerky, uneven.How I wish I had lived and seenEnough to write, … Continue reading No novel in me
Mindless, throwing a thirsty hand forth, Hoping to snatch more. More more and new.
Happiness ... Is a book snuggled against your chest Under the warm blanket. It’s the light tapping of the rain Landing in jaunty rhythm on the roof. It’s his warm hand in yours Cramming a million sweet words In one gentle squeeze. It’s the smile of your sister The laughter of your mother. It’s the … Continue reading Happiness
What are those words, poet, Flying around your mind Like crows, peering over your thoughts? They seize your anguish And knead your sorrow. In their pointed beaks Your delights wriggle, out of breath. The raven exhales. Its sigh’s your essence Condensed in the rims Of its pitch black feathers. Its blood’s a bottle of ink … Continue reading Narrative
Many thanks to Elena over at Bloomsbury Publishing for sending an ARC of Joanne Ramos' debut novel my way! Jane is a young woman , immigrant, half-Filipina, half-American, and a single mother. She needs money. So when her old cousin Ate tells her about Golden Oaks Farm, she decides to seize the opportunity. At the … Continue reading The Farm, by Joanne Ramos
Thanks to Elena at Bloomsbury Publishing for providing me with an ARC of this novel to review! The Other Americans opens with Nora, a grieving daughter, recollecting the events of the day she learnt of her father’s death. In these few moving pages she tells of the absurdity of the news, the impossibility to believe … Continue reading The Other Americans, by Laila Lalami
My bones, their poetry marrow Are packed with sorrow And yet they feel hollow. Everything’s shallow. Feelings account to zero. I would like to be a hero, Write, leave a trace for morrow. I am but a delusional crow. The world I know Only through my window Which is far too narrow. I thought my … Continue reading A Poet?
I sharpened my edges on the spikes of sorrow But inked them with splashes of endless rapture. They shine under the moonlit sky, Sparkle in sun blazing light. Deep in the creamy pages lay glittering secrets, Concealed with shy smiles, clumsy moves and untamed laughs: Curiosity unquenched, Wild hopes unabashed. I buried my diamonds In … Continue reading I, the book
🍂 They said my words would bear fruits Sour or sweet Scented by the ink I would dip my pen in. That only I could chose If I would dust my pages With venom or cure. But what words do I have? The blank desert stares back at me. Sure, fragments jostle in my mind. … Continue reading What words do I have?
🍁 It’s harvest time Time to pluck the dreams That have ripened in my mind. 🍎 My mind’s an orchard Bearing ideas and ideals Bitter sweet fruits arisen From the fertile soil Of my childish fantasies cemetery. Oh these fantasies Whose slow decay Now nurtures wild reveries! Reveries unanchored, although born On the same same … Continue reading Harvest