Your Daily Poem Mga Nobela at Kwento

She asked I suddenly remembered the small poem in the book I have shared with Lea "Think of me, our time might come to an end. In a blink, you might be blind to see me." "I am on the brink of the cliff, can you catch me? I am shrinking, will you see me?" "In a wink, there's only one eye. In a heart, there's only one side" I haven't given attention to it but, it did affect me. Little did I know, it was the end

third person pov birds are chirping and sun is rising it is the most beautiful time of the day . larib was as usual awake to performe her prayer beacuse for her if you don,t remember god the first thing in the morning your day will not be good except some days that you can,t offer prayer .

He had that de ja vu look again. “no... a real normal friend. I mean It’s kinda cool that you like the fact that I love writing. Well except you lied to me.” “of course not.” He said. She smiled. “we could exchange ideas you know.” She said. “you should come over sometime to read my stories and poems. Huh? What do you say about that?” He was silent. She raised her right hand and hid her index and thumb finger. “i Gracie Riles promise to take you as nothing but a friend

‘Have you started writing poems? I chuckle inwardly at what my subconscious asks me. I have heard that people become poets in love and I have used only a few words to praise him. I think, yes? I chuckle once again, taking a deep breath. After spending two hours in that position, I came out of there. Today my day goes by roaming alone like this. Sanam comes by evening and eats dinner with me. We talked a lot while eating food. If he wanted, he would still feed me with his hands, but I do not like to trouble him again and again.

A few times, I've woken up to a paper next to me with a sketch or poem on it. The sketch is of a rose shaped like a heart. It's truly beautiful. I smile at the sketch and then go to the poem. I want to cling to you Hold onto your body Not release you for a moment As life becomes a tsunami Threatening to drag me away from you Drowning me in the darkness While holding you in the light Burry me underground while You stand above it Don't let go As you're the reason to fight To survive In this world That tries to break me

“Let’s see it.” I turned the paper over, and revealed the poem scrawled in pencil on the back. Down the streets of woodland black I wander, earth to hearse In every tree I see a wave A looming tidal curse On the cusp of something greater Stood ankle-deep in floodwater Stagnant pools of brown and red The onslaught is coming; I dread For each dark night and each pearl day The mist does clear too soon The floodplain is drown’d again The water, torn from its ocean womb

A shrine to the people I've lost sitting right on my bed-side table. Picking up the pristine copy of my Dad’s poetry book, I fanned through the crisp pages. It had once been a ritual of mine to fan through the book during hard times. I would close my eyes and choose a poem at random. It was once a way to stay close to my Dad, but now had turned into a habit. With my eyes closed, I let my finger land on one of the many poems. In the end, the treasure of life is missed by those who

"Yes. Except the day I was really horny, dad and mom were in the room, they were everywhere, I couldn't go close to you that day, if they leave the sitting room and I want to tell you am horny, they will appear all of a sudden. If we enter the kitchen, they will be there. I entered your room but they were there, checking the painting on the wall, contemplating on changing it. I angrily entered my room and messaged you to come to my room but dad was annoying, when you entered my room and we were about to make love, dad knocked the door, telling us he wanted to check the designs and painting in my room, if it was necessary to change it, I was mad, I was so frustrated that day that I dragged yo

Taking a deep breath, I spoke the words aloud: "Every sunny day is a reminder. Every sunny day is a curse. I remember the way I tried to keep her cold body warm the way the sun couldn't. I remember every detail of how she looked. Her laugh haunted my dreams. The memory of his smile turned my heart to stone. And as every day went on, I remembered how she left me alone."

Knowing I picked a classic poetry book from my bookshelf, sat under my duvet and started to get lost in the poems that were written during war time 'My gentle one, with whom someday I shall be happy, we shall have our long walks and our quiet evenings which I dream of every night, when all of this is over, and I am back in your loving embrace. Think of me before you sleep as I'll think of you. My love, My Darling. Please do not fear, I will be home with you again, My beautiful love.' Reading poem after poem I could ignore the squealing and pounding of music beneath me, and I must have been reading for a while as when I peeked out of my window it was now dark.