Category Archives: Poetry

Guess Who’s Coming To Town …

DSC00612

My daily ritual in the late afternoon while in high school: Shuffle all his songs, bite a dark chocolate bar, and have a sip of warm tea.

I still have the same ritual today.

After all these years listening to him, singing to him, following him, admiring him, playing his songs on the piano, strumming like a beggar to his melodies on the guitar, and just wishing one day I would have a chance to meet him … It feels surreal to realize that my wish would come true very, very soon :)

DSC00616

I’m grateful that this year, one of my longest-running fantasies would come true.

I’m also grateful that today, I succeeded at lighting up my 10′s day with something I created myself, to which he immediately squealed about, something I always find endearing to listen to … :) Today marks our 25th month being together. I just wanted to tell him he’s my perfect 10 papoy in a minion. He impersonates the minions well enough to give my abs some of the greatest workouts they’ve had in a while.

10 once reminded me that on the day we first met, we both sang duet on one of my idol’s songs. I sing at least two of his songs every time I hit the karaoke bar, and I’ve gotten so used to it, getting so lost into his lyrics that I didn’t notice 10 was singing along :p

foryou-01

I truly believe that great works of art are made without logic or reason to support its labor. As doodler and copywriter Hugh MacLeod puts it in his book, Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity: ”Art suffers the moment other people start paying for it.”

What do you guys think?

 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 
 

Lady in chrysalis

 

The following poem the first big assignment for the writing class I took last semester.

It’s about a coming-of-age lady told in a metaphoric language, and the butterfly is the supposed end-result. Anyway, this poem can be read in 3 ways: Straight-on top to bottom, the bold lines, and the non-bold lines. Hope you like it :)

tumblr_mh3rjbLvJ21qzv41do1_500
 

They say: Grow up.
Find your meaning. Read between the lines
to become beautiful, you must scrub, exfoliate, moisturize
within, there lies a budding potential; a diamond so bright, waiting to be discovered.
I do, all of it, but still don’t feel comfort under this skin.
What is my purpose? Where are my wings? I can’t see it.
I can only feel my scratchy eyes and sandy surface eroding away.
The more they peel, the more I become abrasive, my soul untouched
While I can’t move this way or that way, a lady-like position doesn’t allow my body to move an inch
I asked the grown-ups: Does my shell protects, or am I in a bubble of lies?

 

I moved.
Then I hear them say:

 

“We protect you so in time, you can effervesce each flutter as you fly.”
“It’s a growing firmness.” Resilience crystallize, breaking apart the shell, uncovering my light
It was an alluring cadence, my move. But of age I have to come, I discover.
It’s dusty skin-deep, but don’t lose sight, I affirm. In a moment you’ll be there,
where I don’t have to migrate, where I don’t need to move an inch, where I can call home, I settled.
the turning over of greener leaf, of where I depart from my old skin
torn here and there, this way and that way, now
spreading my wings – tattered things, flaws my folks considered beautiful.
For beauty: Grow up, I say
rinsing my dewy gem of eternal bliss.

 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 
 

 via hay blog hay

 

The placebo affect

 

See all of my Creative Copy Challenge results here.

 
 

Sick of your life? Tossing left and right?
Few people wait just a little bit longer.

Keep, keep going,
but open your heart,
and listen hard: Why are you here?  What is your purpose?

You must make some reason to believe
in the good things awaiting you.
Start thinking carefully
about your goodwill, as long as
it takes for you to get it and keep it real.

Because being one of the few
is like being a really sick patient who doesn’t take pills
it takes 100% patience, and that popularity is too mainstream.

While answering these questions,
enjoy the ride,
the quest to conquer your passionate soul.

 

www.creativecopychallenge.com

 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 
 

Bowwow

 

Just a little something for our writing class. We’re supposed to describe our soul.

I thought of mine, I thought of my beloved, I elaborated the whole idea, and this is the result.

 
 
‘Tis little soul hops to and fro
jumping from pillow to pillow
giggles. I wiggle and jiggle my tail -
it tickles me.

At this high, I yearn for a fellow
to give for, of myself, at those pillows I throw
‘tis running Spirit belongs to my beloved Master
but it desires to come out and play! “Woof! Woof!” I want to feel alive!

I dream of a furry boy of my kind
who smells and feels bigger than my own
I get all soft in this bubbly air.

What huge rear!
What big ears!
And that wagging tail!

My Master sees through me, I pass the bone to this man;
all my helpings into his bowl. I drool.
Sharing is good, My Master once said. I share
in hopes that his protruding, pronounced nose would sniff back to
where it belongs – locked with mine, his my key.

I see him. He sees me. “Woof! Woof!”
Master kisses me softly, “Confidence, little one,” in my ears
I jitter. “Play with him. Have fun!”

We played in the bushes, wrestle and fondle our bodies -
we made it through the rainy day.
I’m your bitch, I bark. He licks my face
cushions his nose on mine. It felt warm while it’s cold
like a fallen raindrop nestling on the tip of my nose.

“Woof! Woof!”, he says. “Wife! Wife!”
His tail pointing at me as the first golden rays begin to arouse
‘tis feeling, it tickles me, our tails tangle as a spoonful of spaghetti;
I snuggle in his belly, he cuddles all of me
Our souls become one.

We are home. Me and him
and the Master of our little souls.


 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 

Haikus to ponder upon for the week

 

I recently learned how to write haikus in my creative writing class.

Haikus are a kind of poetry originated from Japan. Traditionally, a haiku consists of 17 syllables in total, usually in the order of 5, 7, 5 syllables a line. This week, I practice to write 3 haikus following that rule. Here goes:

 
 

Caught in the Moment

He glanced; she looks up
Her eyes smiled, she says, “Hello!”
and the world stops spinning.

 

Evening Run

Gold rays fade to pink
Flowing. One, two foot flutters
to the finish line.

 

Tea Time

Honey and lemon
in steamed water turned green -
Higher consciousness

 
 
 Which is your favorite? :)
 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 
 

Twinkle, twinkle

 
Just a poem I came up with while feeling emo. Nonetheless, enjoy.
 

6a00e553bbe52e883401538fb87ebb970b

I may be slim
but not a light.
My soul is dim
you make me bright.

You push it right
You pull me tight -
a distant star, I am.

Chances are
I’m merely a fleeting thought,
a figment of your wild imagination.

But here I am
much alive and shining,
Made for you
Made of love.

You + me
together we shine
Like golden rays of sunshine.

It goes
We glow,
We grow.

 
 
 
 
 


Stace

 
 

via Art Gallery Fabrics

 

Food fuels goods

PROSE

 

An apple a day keeps the doctor far away
A cabbage soup a day keeps the nurse away too
While chocolate a day keeps the therapist away

When life gives you lemons, make a lemonade!
And a handful of nuts is when life gives you nuts!

So keep stress at bay and wake up fresh each day,
Have your oatmeals the first meal for the day
Before your wholesome health seizes the day!

 

 

Muchaluva,
Stace

Analytic Code