JOURNAL, MUSIC

the beauty of bareness

I am writing this with Ben and Ben’s Leaves on my head, making my right brain work ūüėȬ† This song urges me to sit over and sew words again. This time not to write a poem or a prose, but a simple entry on my journal (rather a review of their song ? ) It just sounds so soulful to me. The lyrics and melody. Everything.

I am always amazed how art in its various forms could touch lives and awaken emotions. It is something really magical.

Talking about the “bareness of trees”¬† , I will pin here some of my random photos of twiggy trees, in which I have this fondness capturing them. I have this favorite stop-over whenever I’m on my way home wherein there is a particular bare tree standing firm. (One of my bestfriends can attest to that.) I was once asked why I love to make it as a subject of photography, I just answered , ” It speaks about independence to me.”

Twigs are branches left by its leaves but despite of it, they endure and stay where they are put in place. Connected branches,¬† hopeful of the growth in the future, they could look up to the skies as if proud of¬† their existence. It is aesthetically raw and¬† imperfect, so as we — humans.¬† We may have some¬† twiggy moments ( I call them ) — whenever we tend to become the branches alone. When the leaves fall one by one, we are sometimes afraid that people will see the unfiltered and boring side of ourselves. Those leaves may symbolize the good things and memories that we cherish, attached into and adore. We peel off as trees to make a way of new leaves to sprout , and when we are watered with faith and love, then we bloom as we are all meant to be.

 

  • words on the images are from Ben&Ben’s Leaves
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PROSE AND POETRY

Nostalgia

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¬†Nostalgia. That sudden rip from within got into her soul and left her in a trance. Out of the blue, she missed her ¬†favorite mosquito net on her childhood that she cradled up to her sleep — that comforting feeling of its texture on her skin. She heard again from nowhere the tone of her mom’s high pitched voice calling her out for the “siesta time” and that afternoon nap would surely take her to another world. She would find that innocence staring blankly from a wooden window resting the weight of her chin on her right arm while catching the last drop of the rain from their nipa roof with her tiny hand. In a tick, she would dig up from her seat with that excitement upon seeing kids going out. With barefoot, that little one would run around, stamping her feet on the muddy ground, not caring the grunge and stink she would get. It was the merriest playtime on the neighborhood. It was the most pleasant thing on her entire life, rather. She would mingle and waggle not until her older sibling would catch her and carry her back home. And then her cry would echo from her room.

Nostalgia. That sudden prick of the bygones awakened her preoccupied mind. Her tears were attempting to stream down from her now reddish eyes. But instead of a loud cry , she just silently sob after a deep sigh

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PROSE AND POETRY

unknown world

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x Vivian Kim

this wound that caused
by promises and nuances
a paradox between
holding on and letting go
healed and scarred
by time like fallen debris
like your words at midnight
whispering¬† ‚Äúi will be back for you‚ÄĚ

that jargon that swept me away
as I welcomed it into my heart
and clutched it on my hands
a pretty lie that I believed into
because ’twas from you
because you told me so

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JOURNAL

Musing

Been pensive this past few weeks that it took a lot of musing about many things. I then had a time to walk around the city and travel in short term. Weird how it led me again writing on my google docu while riding home.

I had a hard time picking out the right vehicle who was willing to stop and fetch me. Some were full, some were destined to different ways, many of them for sure paved the direction of their convenience, and I — I took the long route , loaded with students and two ladies , one on her headset and the other on her eyeglasses.

It was 6:30pm after dusk and the night was still young.
The small conversations, roar of the engine, music from nowhere gives me a relax feeling of being human. Walks of life fill in that quick journeyРeveryone has surely a battle on their own. Yet what I could see is purpose of living, of survival.  I could see how everyone on that busy street pursuing something in life.

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PROSE AND POETRY

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She can’t take away the prick
of the inevitable that leaves the spirit weak
She can’t sum up all the drops
of tears from the heaven when it rains
She can’t weigh on a scale
how heavy to load the intangible
Yet she can write and write and write and..
make things right.

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PROSE AND POETRY

Hide and Seek

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#Serenity   @whenthee

There will come a time, a sudden moment in this lifetime, where the twist of fate is unpredictable. When uncertainty is at your door, when failure is at the corner, when being left behindРhanging and unattended leads you to the edge of breaking down, of deep meditation, of doubts,  that gives you bruises and torn you apart, where the only thing to do is to pick yourself up, alone.. Then questions will begin to play hide and seek. Questions like, where are the promises of sticking around and not giving up? Where shall I find inner peace and self worth? Where did the happy times go? Will I ever find the courage again?

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PLACES

The tear-drop shaped island

 

Captivating. Mesmerizing. Insanely beautiful.

Finally laid my eyes and indulge on the beauty of Siargao known as the Surfing Capital of the Philippines. This unexpected holiday trip awakened my inner thalassophile  persona. It was a dreamlike escapade shared by wonderful set of friends and new-found friends too. The white sand, water in different hues  of blue, dazzling waves, native ambience and the welcoming smiles of the locals there made up this stunning island. We had our speed boat rides during our one day island hopping on the three renowned islets there: Guyam, Daku and Naked islet.  We also explored the natural pool at Magpupungko and witnessed the right-reef breaking and the surfing frontiers at Cloud 9. This four-day getaway lift up my spirit and prayed in awe that this will hopefully not the last.

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