Tuesday, April 16, 2024
My forever. (October 6, 2014)
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Updates on the Inkmeister's Forlorn Life
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Ink Drips: Rationalizing Break-ups
(not based on real events but based on the emotions of the writer at his moment)
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Kangitngit
*** Kangitngit is Bisaya for darkness, but in this complex dialect it takes on various definitions with such vivid applications as to imagery. This poem of mine which is a silly attempt at literature seeks to showcase the power of the word and the intricacies of the Bisaya language.
Samtang ginasubay nako kining dalanDalan nga ngitngit, dalan nga bala-anAkong ginapangandoy nga magkita na taMaskin lang man sa kangitngit atong kalag mag-abot naSa kangingit gikawat akong pahiyomSa ngalan sa sapi,sa diyot, sa ilimnonUg sa mabugnawong kilid ako gipasagdanKangitngit, kahadlok, akong nasudlanUg ikaw gahulat sa eskina sa may manggaPara kanako, nga abi nimo muabot paUg karon akong subayon kining dalanaPadulong kanimo, maskin dili man ta magkitaDawata akong gugma, kasing-kasing og pagkatawoSa kangitngit man lang pasaylo-a ko intawonSamtang akong pagasubayn kining dalanaHinaot atong kasingksaing mag-abot na.
As I follow this road,This dark and holy road,I yearn that we finally meet.Even in this nothingness our souls would finally meet.My smile was stolen in the darkness.In the name of money, of having, of liquor.And in that cold damp corner I was left to wait.Death, fear was what I have entered.And you wait there at the curb, by the mango tree,For me, whom you thought was still coming.And now, I follow this pathTo you, even though we shall never meet.Receive my love, my heart, my soul.Even just in the end, forgive me please.While I follow this path,I hope that our hearts finally meet.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A response to Nicholas Sparks' Dear John
there are things yet seen...
these are paintings of an artist's brush...
there stories yet to be told...at the tip of the lonely writer's pen...there is a melody yet heard...settled upon the composer's sheets...there is a love yet relished...waiting for the deserving to claim it...there is a woman alone...waiting for you to just come home...there is a man at the edge...hoping you wait...there is a world of questionable sanity...inkling to transformtransform the woman alone and the man on the edge so the love may be relished and the story be told, that the melody be heard and the truth be seen... a truth that may hurt and sting... yet truth by all means... in verity it stands.but the sands of time will always drain and we turn over the vessel and we begin a new leap...Dear John.
Friday, May 7, 2010
2nd Short Story: Under the Cloak series
Love at the Diagon Alley
A love so true – untouched and virgin, pure and chaste is this love of a boy for another boy. A boy who had never mustered love for anyone, not even himself; one who was not only born into wealth but also born into darkness.
Pale as snow, sweet as sugar, his skin gleamed in the sunlight; Hair so blonde that it shimmered as he walked down Diagon Alley. He loved it there. The people, so vivid, so colorful, went about with smiles on their faces. Smile, the sort of smiles he had never known – ever. They were honest smiles. Smiles that could only be painted on the faces of honestly happy people. Those people gave him a sense of insecurity. The life he led never gave him the smiles they had. He was insecure and he knew it.
“Draco! Listen boy, I have to go down to Gringotts. You stay here and get your measures taken. Don’t leave unless I come get you.” A scary man, as pale as him and with the same blonde hair but only longer, told him in a most cold way. He was his father. The Lucius Malfoy – the one, who sided with the Dark Lord and after his fall, claimed he had been spellbound.
He nodded as if he meant it, but he didn’t. He was staring down the alley. His father had left, and he broke his stare at the figure he was looking at and went into the robe shop, Madam Malkin’s, thinking, “This day might just get a notch more interesting.”
The bell rang as he entered and soon, the work began.
A little before Draco’s measures were all taken, he came in. His face was as bright as an angel’s. His eyes mystically glowed an emerald-like-glow. His hair was funny – messed up.
And he looked at me curiously, I had tingles all over. Then again, I can’t just act like a squeally girl now can I? So I let the usual dark cold Draco surface from within me. But I couldn’t just bully him. He was so beautiful, innocent, sweet and happy. He had a smile on him which fought my instinct to just squish his esteem with the fiery words which I learned from my father.
I guess I was in love. I was captured by his eyes, his lips, and his soul which emanated a sort of glow – he felt warm even from a distance. He felt so real. Unlike the people who I am around so often, he felt ridiculously real.
He came closer so then I started ranting about Hogwarts and how I was going to be in Slytherin or else I won’t even stay at the damn school. I tried to be friendly, honestly. But friendly in our household, in my group of friends even, in everything I do, is shoving people in toilets, or calling them names. I tried not to do those really.
But then beyond his softness and warmth I couldn’t help but think he hated me. He had changed his smile into a lopsided frown. I felt his warmth slowly retreat. I might’ve scared him. I have that effect.
I realized I was being a shadow to his light. We were in no way compatible – at that moment I reckoned. At that very moment I knew that he would never ever be a friend of mine. He might just well be my enemy.
I sobbed inside, fighting the thought. Then I saw a man through the shop’s windows, he was huge and beyond any doubt monstrously ugly. I recognize him vaguely as the school’s – Hogwarts – gamekeeper.
In an effort to win back the boy’s affection, I made fun of the giant looming outside the shop.
He shot back a furious expression. I later found out that he was with him. I didn’t know he was with him. How could I? An angel and ogre together? I really felt lost, but I didn’t show a hint of it. No I just grinned. I grinned my most devilish grin and went off after the lady told me she was done with all my measures.
As I retreated through the door, out of the shop, I felt a sense of knowing. I knew right then and there that our paths would cross again. They may not be moments of bliss, our next meetings. But I was sure that we’d meet again. And that smile, his warmth, his everything I was going to feel it again. I was sure.
I was sure that that love at the Diagon Alley would be seconded.