Domestic Frictions Don’t End Well

        The rough waves undulated under the stormy sky and with every crash, a thin streak of foamy froth cast a memory on shore

Splintered rain spewed wooden chips and broken bottle remnants from disputes, too often, taken place outdoors

Precarious drops of crimson proceeded to stain deeper into the grits, washed over with warm salty tears

An ominous howl of smothered silent screams wailed against the chilled wind, from it, a chanted quarrel strung its tune

Trees rustled in despair of the plagued past, their roots shriveled and damaged by constant reiteration of harmful abuse

Coppered sleet tore into mellow rocks and delicate fronds, the only vestige of brutality lay scattered in pieces of soft velvet

Thick clouds filled with a pungent stench of acidic smog floated with treacherous precision, its deceitful movements threatened to burst

Lean branches quivered like thin limbs and broke against the tenacious gale, shrunken seeds, too young for life, tasted death


Ask Me Although I’d Rather Not Tell

Guilt engulfed me whole;

buckets and buckets of one emotion washed over

No tears or silent screams could describe the internal quarrel

brought by a careless action

Burdened thoughts weighted my shoulders;

they grew heavier with every step

Selfishness soon wiggled itself into the cramped quarter

its prolonged presence unable to ignore

Questions and doubts arose in a sullen wave

never quite settled

I had no one else but myself to blame;

my roved path unknown

The darkness of the night reflected residues from footsteps

taken one too many times

Midnight came and went

my state unquelled

I sought mercy

and something better I received


for my heinous deed

Munificent Greed

Cold black tendrils snaked its way into the heart,

nestling near the beating organ with placate

Wisps of treachery and deception eroded its nostrils

illusioning those it wished

Playing coy, it whispered sardonically into the ears of its enemy,

undulating emotions with prestidigitation

It pulled down a clouding curtain between lust and love,

driving the man insane to the point he lost himself

Wanting more and more,

never getting enough

Articulately trapping its corpulent prey

it wrapped its cadaverous fingers around the throat,

squeezing ever so gently

Emphasizing the intense desire to want and take

wrenching vociferously at the wavering soul

it disposed of its poison

Deadly liquid poured effervescently into the rushing viens,

spreading with every breath inhaled

Agony and pain soon followed

Until pure consciousness capitulated into the bosoming greed

The Versatile Blogger Award



 I’m flabbergasted someone thought of my blog and even more so- nominated me for a ‘Versatile Blogger’! It’s a privilege and I  apparently can’t thank Rabe MacSeoin, a remarkable blogger herself, enough! Once again, thank you!

Alright, I have a few manageable rules  to follow and the first would be posting seven things about myself:

1.  I believe that a person’s personality has more to do with their perspective, education, and childhood than simply their outwardly appearance.

2.  I strive for a self-taught education where I learn (to think for myself) from traveling and meeting other people. John Holt in his book ‘Instead of Education’ wrote in perspective of the educators “He tells us, in effect, that we cannot be trusted even to think, that for all our lives we must depend on others to tell us the meaning of our world and our lives, and that any meaning we may make for ourselves, out of our own experience, has no value.”

3.  I’ve been home-schooled for most of my middle and high school years and enjoyed every single minute for not a second went to waste emulating celebrities.

4. I highly respect Robert Frost’s classical statement of “Poetry is something poets write” when pressed for an answer by an inquisitive questioner- instead of going into the depth (never stopping the questioner’s train of wonder) and remarking “Poetry is a rhythmical composition of words expressing an attitude, designed to surprise and delight, and to arouse an emotional response.”

5.  Everyone has moody days and they all have different ways of motivating themselves, for me, it would be my stash of inspiring quotes from, sometimes, well-known authors.

6.  Failing is not something I handle well but I have learned that you must fall in order to get up.

7.  ‘Somethings may be learned best in school while others could be learned as well or better out of school’ that thinking has saved me many times from falling into the traps of unfortunately many myopic teachers.

And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for…*Drumrolls!!*

Amazing Nominees:

Guidelines for nominees:

  1.  Display the Award Certificate on your blog.
  2. Write a post and link back to the blogger who nominated you, and post 7 interesting things about yourself.
  3. Nominate 15 other bloggers.
  4. Inform them of their nomination via comment on their blog.


A Cancerous Journey to the End – Holding on to Love’s Last Song

A throaty chuckle bounces off the enclosed walls and she beams-knowing she was the reason behind his pensive smile

The jubilant atmosphere lingers a moment or two longer before diminishing back to its ruminative subtrosphere and she furrows her brows at his tensed body language

Tear smudges become evident on his cheeks and she reaches out to touch the soft flesh in between the pad of her thumb and forefinger

Thin paper clothing barely covering her scarred body, crumple in response to her movements, and she keenly watches as he reluctantly moves in to her delicate stroking

She sympathetically flashes him an expression between pain and happiness, quickly disguising the internal conflict she, too, felt

Suddenly, vigorous coughs spill blood onto her illusent hospital dress but he can only watch helplessly while she dabs at the pervading rogue inkling down her purplish lips

He eventually begins crying in anguish, seeing the love of his life struggle mentally with a fatal disease- a cancer of sorts

The coughing soon seize and she rests her dizzying head onto the chalky pillow behind her, muttering incoherent sentences

She later gestures for him to cover the distance between them and he complies, sitting next to her slender frame on the small bed while crystal pearls slip down his stubby chin

She gently whispers into his ear soothingly and he holds her close to his chest, afraid of ever letting her go

Gradually, he tenderly kisses her smooth head and sings a sweet melody the two had once strung up together

His soft-tempered voice calms her anxieties and she melts into the song, allowing the even pitch to ring mildly through her eardrums

After the last note, her milky chocolate eyes flutter shut under the reflecting moonlight and he pecks her cheek for a very last time

Empowered by Despair

A frosty breath of death closely hovers overhead

while the fireplace does little to provide warmth for her trembling bones

 Sinking feverishly into the leather couch,

she vigorously wraps her frail fingers around the porcelain mug as daunting matters press her mind

Slowly stirring the frothy liquid in tarrying perturbation,

she contemplates the macabre consequences of the violaceous poison

To die or not to die

Tentatively raising her feeble arms,

she brings the mug to her bottom lips slightly shivering in anxiety

A whiff of the strong bittersweet aroma permeates through her nostrils,

sending her nerves into more of a jumbling coil

Riveting her eyes onto the flickering flames,

she takes a sip, spilling precious drops down her chin

The taste is foreign and as it dribbles to the back of her throat,

death gives her the lightest of his kiss

Succumbing her into an eternal sleep

Gladiatrix: Left Forsaken But Resilient Still


Her tears of pain so seldomly evoked

With every sob and every cry

a pearly white drop slips by

How can she be so beautiful

ever more when she’s upset?

Being berated so often, it only adds to the pressuring list

Strong, belligerent, yet somehow tender

She soaks in the abhorrent words

they so carelessly spat

They were doltish to her cataclysmic past

but she audaciously stood her ground, unwaveringly

disintegrating only from within

She fled to her haven and slowly broke down

A tear, then two, gradually so many you couldn’t count

Soft then loud, a rhythmic sensation

The hate tormented her and she felt despised

Even alone, she couldn’t flee the bitter words

Her heart throbs and aches for friendship,

for love.

Both her past never received

They were cruel but she forgave them

They were unloyal but she gave them trust

They, lacked compassion and that was all she had

And in the end, they left her broken, disgusted and spiteful

They were bullies and she was a victim.