Here's To Hoping:

I was hoping I could write;
I was hoping I could take the words out one by one
that have been sleeping during the daytime;
I was hoping they would be awake in the wee hours
and the night is submerged in silence
and everyone has fallen into a slumber;
as you can see, the words have become difficult to pursue
and lay into a blank piece of paper;
I’ve left them asleep for far too long;
many days and many nights have passed
and now I can’t seem to figure out how to wake them;
I am in such a restless locus
without them to keep me company;
their deep slumber means no comfort to me;
for a while,
I had thought that it was alright
to enjoy other things;
to soirees and gossips, I heard through the grapevines
to looking at stars and dreaming about that moonlight
to idleness and foolishness
then I would tend to my words
as one would tend to its blooming garden
and lay them out carefully on a blank piece of paper
letting them bask in their rightful context
then things would be great once again
my passion would still thrive
nothing would change
but now, it seems I have left them for far too long
I have lost myself
and the words that have accompanied me;
the passion is now just a mere candle
melting and appearing to near its end
with no wax or oil to add to its flame;
I was hoping;
just merely hoping now;
something would ignite the sleeping words inside of me;
then I would feel like I am alive again.

#poetry #writings #excerpts #words #worries #hope #write #poem

moments passing.

i was thinking about today
about this moment that won’t be able to go back
and suddenly my heart is aching
i don’t know how many moments i’ve passed through
and how many more will be wasted
but i don’t want to go through like this over and over
crying and regretting
crying and regretting
i don’t want to stay like this
right here as if i’ve never moved
never done anything at all
never left the place i’ve been
as if i’m already rooted
when i’ve never felt i’ve belonged

#poetry #time #momentspassing #moments

Sense of Belonging when do words come alive is it born at the tip of our tongue or is it when the ink makes a mark at a blank sheet of paper? perhaps it’s born out of necessity in our head where it’s waiting until called its a misunderstanding for it feels like I have not understood what poetry is like for I am simply giving birth to the words that appear in my head and give them way through the tip of my tongue or as I mark a blank sheet of paper to make sense of this image I am clueless whether I am doing the right thing or I am simply going with the accord that I end up with lexicons and have no idea how to stitch the essence together to make sense of belongings.

Rediscovering Finally back! After upgrading phones more than a year ago, I thought Opuss had completely gone as I kept trying to open the app but wouldn't. I was really hoping that it would reopen one day so kept the app up to this day, trying to open it from time to time as I missed writing in this community. Fortunately, I didn't lose my hopes! I finally found it again! Really, thank you to the admins who have kept it alive. I thought all the words I've written for the past 7 years since this app opened disappeared and it's a great relief to go back and see my past self. I'm looking forward to going back to writing again and especially, reading other's pieces.