Posted in Personal

Book Exchange

Found this on my Facebook, from a fellow reader’s wall. It’s a nice book sharing event for all bibliophiles out there. Hope more people will participate:

Hello! We are looking for people to participate in a HUGE book exchange. You can be anywhere in the world. All you have to do is buy your favorite book (just one) and send it to a stranger (I’ll send their details in a private message).

You’ll receive roughly a maximum of 36 books back to you, to keep. And they’ll be favorite books from strangers around the world!

If you’re interested in being part of this, please comment ‘IN’ below and I’ll send you all the details.

Happy reading! 📖 📚 💕

Posted in Poetry

Storm

I like the rainy days – it is the perfect weather to curl up, drink coffee and enjoy a good book. But once in a while, being alone on a rainy weather can become lonesome. And unwanted feelings and memories tend to resurface. And during the typhoon, I had the worst luck to be reminded of one hurtful conversation that I cannot completely erase from my mind. So, I did what I always do. I opened my notebook and wrote down this poem.

There’s something about the storm

That seems to break open the dam

Within the fortress of my mind

Bringing forth forgotten memories

And the wind sings a mournful song

Full of melancholy and sorrow

As the thunder clouds swells upon the horizon

So does the emotions buried deep

Rolling out in waves and waves

Until my eyes can hold back no longer

The tears as powerful as rain

Gushing out and flooding my world

As I recall every painful moment

I’ve tried to discard from my memory

There’s something about the gloomy weather

That brings out the worst of myself

And I stare at the winds raging outside

As I struggle with the brewing storm within

My heart that is tired of holding back everything

And my tears continue to flow

Sobs as loud as thunder, screaming out of me

Letting out all the frustrations and doubts

Walled up inside, hidden behind my fragile peace

So, I rage along the rain and winds

And when the storm breaks, the sun will shine

The calmness of the world will seep into me

The darkness, once again, contained inside

And I will smile.

Posted in Poetry

Reasons Why I Write Long Poems

Because there are a thousand words

Tumbling inside my mind

Keeping me up at all times of the night

Jumbled thoughts that don’t make sense

Unless I write them down one by one

On any piece of paper I can find.

Because it’s the only way that I can paint

All the colors of emotions that I feel

Into a rainbow that can bridge the gap

From my heart to my brain and out to the world

Layer by layer like oil onto a canvass

To create a picture of the world inside my soul.

Because it is how I try to connect

With the world around me

When I cannot speak out of fear or shame

My poems can tell the story of who I am

And though my father always says,

“I am not the reflection of my work”

Each piece I’ve written is a part of my soul

That I offer up for the entire world to see.

Because it offers a moment, a time

When my mother can listen to my feelings

And she will smile and tell me

What a great job I did in writing down

All the pain and insecurities of someone else

Never acknowledging that it could be me

That a storm is always brewing up within

The heart of her blessed child.

Because the fears I’ve always hidden

Are bubbling just beneath the surface

Of my calm face, and mild demeanor

And through these words, I can release

The worries slowly and steadily

Before it drives me crazy and exposes to the world

How truly chaotic and insane inside me.

Because I longed for anyone to listen

To tell me that it’s ok

To be broken, imperfect and afraid

And that I am just human,

Flawed but still important

It is a call for someone who cares

And who won’t try to rescue or fix me

But will always be there to be a friend.

Because each lengthy rhythm

Is like the music and lyrics

A lullaby that sings me to sleep

Overshadowing the doubts

Until the pain and fear subsides

And the words will once again reappear

Dancing and waiting to be written

Into another very long poem.