Sunday, June 4, 2006

If these walls could talk...

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
To the eye of an observer…
A useless stack of wood.
In the eyes of the beholder…
Escape. Refuge. Bliss.
Inside, the stale aroma of decaying timber.
A worn-out mattress in one far corner.
Above it, a nail bolted into the wall.
Where a picture crookedly hangs.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers would meet.
A candle sits on the window sill.
Casting shadows on the walls inside.
It was there they made a lasting vow.
To love. To cherish. To return.
It was there they shunned out the world.
The distance. The obstacles. The doubt.
On the mattress they lay.
And awakened each dawn.
To say goodbye. To part ways.
To again succumb to the call of night.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Where the lovers bid each other farewell.
The candle by the window sill.
Melted. Diminished. Died out.
Within these four walls.
They lay in complete darkness.
So neither would have to see the other cry.
To see the other walk away.
They made a binding promise.
That one day, someday, soon.
When the world would let them be.
To love. To cherish. To return.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love forbidden.
A story I know so well.

A ramshackle cabin lost in the woods.
Dark. Hidden. Abandoned.
A mold of wax sits on the window sill.
From a candle that died out some years ago.
Slowly, I draw near and enter.
A whole different world.
A world of vivid memories.
Of escape. Of refuge. Of bliss.
I take the picture down from the wall.
A teardrop falls on the reflection.
Of lovers I had once known.
Lovers whose story has long since ended.
Then the door creaks open behind me.
And I stand my ground.
Footsteps echo towards me.
Patiently, I wait.
No confusion. No fear. No doubt.
A hand rests on my shoulder.
And I know who it is.
If these walls could talk.
What a story it would tell.
A story of love lost.
A story of love found.
A story I know so well.

More dose of prose

Friday, December 2, 2005

Once the boy...

For the boy who knew my name,
Before he saw my face.
And for the man who was that boy,
Whose love no other can replace.
From the girl who is now the woman,
Who lives on the promise that you make.
For boy and girl, man and woman,
A lifetime—that none would forsake.
The girl remembers the boy.
And the woman shall never forget the man.
More dose of prose

Monday, November 28, 2005

Love in the Nude

Adam and Even fell in love in the nude...
But many fall in love in the midst of a masquerade...
Boy meets girl...boy likes girl...boy plays Romeo.
Girl meets boy...girl likes boy...the ever-endearing Juliet.
To fall in love in the nude does not mean you're stark naked...
Standing in front of your lover and then the sparks fly!
Love in the nude...open...welcoming...belonging...
No masks...no shades...no semi-charming countenance.
To love someone...there is no need for make-up...
He'll love you even if you've just said hello to sunshine.
He might cringe at your stale breath but kiss you anyway...
His own breath might not be as appealing either.
So a slight teasing comment won't hurt him...you're even!
Falling in love requires no mandatory obligation towards etiquette.
She'll wipe your nose when your cold gets shoddy...
He'll roll his eyes at your fad obsessions but say you look lovely...
She'll laugh with you over something that's not really funny...
He'll kiss away your tears even though your mascara's runny.
Love does not counsel insanity...instead, ends in matrimony.
After 'I do' you'll still hate each other's annoying habits...
You'll go insane over it ten years from now...
In twenty-five years, it'll still drive you up the wall!
But she'll still make you wild with her kisses...
He'll still drive you crazy with his touch...
You'll still love...more than you hate...
Love in the nude...Love with never-ending climax...
But never reaching a happy ending...
Happy endings are only concoctions of fairy-tales...childhood fantasies.
Love in the nude...has no happy ending...
Only a happy beginning, happy middles...and happy in-betweens.
Love in the nude...makes you laugh, makes you cry...
Makes you happy, makes you sad...
Makes you joyful, makes you mad...
Whatever it does...one thing's for sure...
Love in the nude is real, is good, is pure.
More dose of prose

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Procrastination of the Semi-Idle Mind

Do you ever find yourself caught up within a warp zone?
Where you're itching to break free but find the doors are closed?
After time elapses...minutes turn to hours and hours turn to days...
You stifle the urge of hysteria...wanting to scream out loud but can't.
The heart pumps blood rapidly...adrenaline rush...then gradually...
As minutes turn to hours and hours turn to days...depression kicks in.
Break down...Break out...Breakthrough? Is there any?
From brain constipation? The prisonhold of talents and skills...
The eyes...ears...mind...savor just a taste of glory...it wishes to swallow.
Observation promotes the silent feeling of deprivation...
Typical duties become monotonous...wishing for greater fulfillment.
Wanting more...needing more...knowing more can come.
But reduced to waiting more...anticipating more...please let it come!
Explosions threaten...yet there need be patience...patience is a virtue.
Trying to believe...consider...acknowledge the words of wisdom.
Want to create! Want to pro-create from those creations!
Think outside the box! The sky's the limit! Carpe Diem! But wait!
There's a right time for everything...when will that time come?
Minutes turn to hours...hours turn to days...
More dose of prose

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Daggers

They stab me from all corners.
Penetrate through my flesh.
Mercilessly make my blood flow.
They know no time.
Know no place.
Seek only to savagely destroy.
They hunt down the innocent.
Shame the not-guilty.
Accuse, admonish, abuse spitefully.
They abide by no principle.
Lash out venomously by word of mouth.
A slow killer: mentally, emotionally, physically…
Daggers!
Leave me in peace!
More dose of prose