It’s My Birthday

That’s that. It is today. Today is the day. I am a full-fledged year older on this very day.

I will begin my day with some gratitude. Thanks to all of my friends and family that put up with my attitude.

I hope that today is not just a great day for me, but for everyone. Blessings and love to all! Glad tidings and cheer to spread smiles ear to ear.

Happy Friday!

Happy February!


It’s my birthday today so let’s start it off right

The sun’s out there shining its light burning bright

I just want to take this piece of my day

To say a few words of thanks if I may


Thanks to my family for giving me a home

If it weren’t for you guys, I’d sadly wander and roam

Thanks to my friends who have given me support

For the advice and the hugs and all things of that sort

Thanks to my teachers who’ve guided me through school

Without all your lessons, I’d simply be a fool

Thanks to my mailman, deliverymen and the lot

How else would I receive all those nifty things that I’ve bought?

Thanks to the sanitary workers who keep all the things clean

Sorry that a lot of people practice such poor hygiene

Thanks to the one special man in my heart

You’ve painted my dull world into a bright work of art


Thank you to everyone that’s been a part of my life until this moment

Each memory we’ve shared is the perfect birthday present


Sacrificing to Gain

I didn’t have much in me for writing today, but my friend had commissioned me for a poem that I never got around to, so here it is!

I hope it doesn’t fall flat. I wanted to sort of make an “inspiring” call-to-arms here for ya’ll. Enjoy this straightforward little offering 🙂

Have a great Sunday.

Good luck with the coming week.


Put forth your greatest woes on a silver platter

Listen not with innocent ears to the sinful trickster’s idle chatter

Feed your uncertainty to the gods of grace

Watch and wait as your doubt dissolves without a trace

When you lose yourself in the fight at hand

You’ll stand to gain all that you demand

Time tells all even if you fall to the wolves and fears

Just bite your lip and wipe away your tears

Keep your head held high until the clouds fade away

Tell yourself to believe that the world’s not always so gray

Color swirls mysteriously melding with beautiful idols

When your locked up soul finally unbridles

Stand atop the mountains with chest puffed with power

Hold on to hope until the final hour

Swirling Inner Turmoil

Quick work boredom and depression and anxiety buildup release.

Enjoy this brief journey.

Sleepless nights on cliff edges hanging while pitching lies and listening to the remorseful heartache panging. Beat by beat it’s slowed by defeat and with uncertainty laden – nay- replete; filled with the heat of repetitious deceit. Subconsciously singing the tune of death to the last lingering breath as pained and drained as blood spattered earth.

The Clown’s Dance

I thought of a playfully rhyming short poem. Somehow clowns came to mind as I finished my homework this evening.

This poem is like my “guess” at where all the lost hearts end up after they’ve been misplaced by their owners. Totally fictitious, of course. Entirely. Non-factual. Nonsensical, even.

Just for fun, let’s go for a run!



Pick them up, put them down

Watch the dancing clown go ‘round

In its hands are lovers’ hearts

It throws them ‘round the room like darts

Tossing left, tossing right

Watch the hearts as they take flight

Some land on walls across the room

Some lose their flight and fall to doom

Hold them near, hold them far

Watch the sight grow more bizarre

They must be lost as if at sea

They surely are, or they’d be free

The Traveler’s Regret

I might be going off to another country for graduate school at the end of the year.

In short, these are some thoughts I thought of mashed in to poetry format. Not exactly worded thoughts, though. It’s like a story of a traveler heading away that is somewhat personifying my feelings of apprehension!

Muahaha ok it’s 4am and I need sleep. ZZzzzzz



The air around me is buzzing anxiously with endless streams of thought

Grasped firmly in the hand at my side are plane tickets that I bought

I’m going somewhere far away where there’s nary a friend in sight

Alone I stand and wonder if what I’m doing here will really be alright

Fear of failure scrapes at my skin to remind me I might lose

Was this the way things should have been, or had I more options to choose?

Away from it all, away from the pain, thoughts streaming through my brain

The memories and feelings are all too much, they’re really quite a strain

“I want to stay,” “I don’t wan to go,” they say but what can I do?

When all’s said and done what I’d miss a ton is spending my days with you

One step at a time I start to climb the stairs to the final gate

It’s too late to wait and change my mind – this journey is my fate

I know that whenever I close my eyes you’ll enter my thoughts again

Will you think of me then or forget who I am as if I were just a stain?

Seeing Blind (A Rework)

My friend wrote a poem and asked me to rewrite it in my own words/vision/style. Don’t tell him I’m sharing it with you – he’s shy. Well, you don’t know who he is anyway! Muahahah he’ll never know. *shhhh*

Here’s the original (from my text log :3 )

Trying to look while getting shook,                                                                                          Trying to find while being blind.                                                                                                       Left behind like a crook,                                                                                                                    Trying to grind with a look,                                                                                                              Open eyes looking shut,                                                                                                                      In a rut with despise,                                                                                                                           Open eyes stung blind

T’was fun to rewrite. It is kind of nice having material to piggyback of when you’re in a writing rut 😛 ….as I have been lately *cough cough* sorry.

Regardless, enjoy the poetry presentation that I have remodeled based on my buddy’s quick poetic production!


Seeing Blind

Her eyes are shaking while the ground is breaking

She’s searching through the light but she can’t regain her sight

The useless glass she looks through has left her lost.

They’re glazed over by all the lies she can’t defrost.

Reflecting nothing but the darkening gray skies

Wide awake like a watchdog but lost in the fog

Seeing is not believing

Her eyes are crying.

Looks can be deceiving.

Her vision’s dying.

She opens her eyes to open her mind

Hopelessly searching for an answer that she’ll never find

She’s been left behind

Nothing left but the innocent sight of the blind

Love’s Journey

This was just a short thing I randomly thought up this morning. I figured I’d share 🙂 Since Valentine’s Day is coming up soon 😉 Just a little thing about love.

Since I’ve been MIA 😦 ….school has been a boob this week. I feel like I can’t catch a break with all this homework and it’s only the first week back in to Spring! But hey, it’s my last semester *woooo* so I will be done soon! Then…graduate school hopefully. Arghhhh. I’m going to be suffering for a while longer yet.

Hope you are all having a wonderful week and that your weekend is spectacular!


The heat of the city blinds the minds with hazy insistence on curly smiles.

Sweet words and soft touches hold within their clutches bodies laid bare.

They fly away across the bay on wings held up by glassy strings,

Returning here and there to the warm embrace of its resting place.

Walking through streets the hue of clear blue go the gentle hearts that flow

Parading under fireworks of wonder to unknown worlds together alone

Existential Crisis

You’re about to go in to an epic adventure in the deepest parts of my mind.

Get ready.

Grab some popcorn.

Let’s go there.


Clouding my thoughts

Dreams of memories


What does it mean to be alive if you’re only living as an empty shell of a vessel for all the things that can hurt you and harm you and take you to a point where life has no more meaning?

What truly does it mean to be alive and what does it mean to be a human being when there is so much pain and hurt existing in the world?

What is existence and how can you define true sense in in an environment that supports nonexistentnce in the sense that you should go with the flow, follow the lead, and conform to the norm?


Can we really say that the life that we are living now is exactly what it is?

There is so much in life to see, experience, express and yet we are limited.

So strong and yet held back by forces and factors that seek to control us.


What then is living for?

Should we continuously and endlessly see the beauty in everything around us, despite the distracting nature of individual thoughts?

What path should we take?

What road should be travel?

What types of people should we surround ourselves with?

If the end result is, again and again, some sort of consequential molding of what we should be, what we should be, then how can we individualize ourselves?

What does it mean to be unique?

What does it mean to be an individual?

How can we distinctify ourselves from the rest of the flock if we are but sheep that flow in the stream that exists in the constant flow of time?

Shall we simply abide by social norms and the acceptances that are so old and so established that we cannot break from them?


Who am I?

Who are you?

What does it mean to be?

Is my entire life going to be dedicated to finding myself?


I don’t think that’s the way that I live currently fully personifies my existence in the scope of humanity …again, who am I? What is my purpose? Is it simply to get from A to B? Why must the only certainty in life be death? Why is there nothing else in life that exist on this plane, in this galaxy and this existence, that distinctifies my individual existence from any other person that I encounter on my journey?


I want to be something that is greater than what I am.

How can I achieve that status? That truth?

I may never know.

Should I be fine with that?

Who am I?


Destroying my psyche

Ripping me apart

Tearing into pieces

Unrecognizable to the point of no return

What does it mean to be alive?

Dying Stars Can’t be Counted

Excuse me while I get emotional again.

Have you ever considered counting every star in the sky? On a night where they all shine brightly and obviously enough to see? Can you quantify every memory you hold in your head? Is there a price on them which can be perceived?

Perhaps not. I felt around in my soul for this one as an expression of the lost paths we miss along the journey through our lives to the inevitable end. Read it and see if you can get all the interwoven alliterations! And I used a different rhyme style to boot.



Count every star up in the sky

High above so far

Amount so vast to spread for miles

Piles of light from the past

Try to record their seraphic extent

Lament the roads left unexplored

Pry beneath deciphered codes

Loads of secrets in the sheath

Tie the noose around your neck

Check your feet are off the ground

Why was I brought to this place?

Face stained by tears so hot

A Numbing Conversation

I had the need to empty my soul once again in light of the recent…event.

I am most sorry for exposing ye (my readers) to such a depressing flight of poetry, but I had the urge to write, and so I did – as dismal as it may be. The only way I can help assuage even a minute amount of this pain is to write. And write I shall. On the bright side, I am learning to write poetry with less intense and noticeable rhyme structure!!

I hope everyone’s having a good new year so far. I wish nothing but the best for ya’ll out there on the blogosphere.

I’ll try for something upbeat next week….I hope.

Many successes in 2018!

And now the poem…

A Numbing Conversation

Dangling off a frayed impassioned string

Heart beats the echo of his poison-tongued oration

The waves of misery rush through the emptied soul

Receiving but not hearing the surreal words uttered

Doubt and skepticism rake the puzzled brain

Crumbling serenity replaced by stark incredulity

Waterfalls plunging deeper in to the loud silence

Eyes lost amongst shadows hiding his face

His voice rings from a short distance in the fog

Shattering glass delicately resounds in my chest

Pretending to be alright

He gave up without a fight

What once had been my source of light

Cloaked me now in deepest dark midnight

Overwhelming Uncertainty: A Dark Mental Adventure

I found myself doodling some spiraling ribbons and thought to myself –

“This would make a good poem. These tumultuous, spiraling ribbons seem as though tornadoes of endless thought!”

And so here I am, having just finished typing up a rather gloomy yet beautiful composition… at least I found it rather poignant.

Try not to get in to a mood with this one. I think I did a good job of portraying what deep, dark and dismal thoughts may circumstantially sweep through one’s thoughts at… *looks at the clock*…around 4 in the morning. Nothing like a twilight mental sweeping. 😀

Enjoy! (Or…don’t?)


Overwhelming Uncertainty

She stood alone, shrouded beneath the unsleeping crepuscule of the void

Unwavering in its vigilant embrace, she wandered, lost, deeper in to nihility

Her existence swam adrift the dusky entanglement of turbulent rumination

Spiraling along disconnected pathways, the calignosity engulfed her sanity

Absorbed in the muddled confusion, she faded amidst her subjective enmity

Melancholy spread through her veins to suffocate what was left of her ebbing lucidity

The darkness bade her, “Come. I will stand with you forevermore.”

It cried out to her. It begged. It urged her closer to the edge of freeing delirium

In her eyes, a faint waning light quivered on the cusp of extinction

What hope had this gentle lamb of ever gaining her paragon?

Emptiness echoed through her flesh as a squall of capitulation

Grasping blindly in to the twilight afforded no answer to the swelling skepticism within

Would nary salvation liberate her from these fiendish introspections?

Once again, the shadows cooed their tantalizing promises of eternal tranquility

She stumbled aimlessly through the tainted blackness spilling out from her insecurity

Invisible in her vacillation

Wrought by hopelessness

Seeking respite

She erred

Happy Holidays

Happy holidays everyone! I made it through my finals somehow but am now neck deep in prep for this GRE exam thing for my MBA program qualification! It is going ok so far, but Geometry is beating me down. I haven’t…years. Ugh.

Anyway I hope the blogosphere is doing well and everyone has a wonderful, safe and fun holiday and New Year.

Be well! Be merry!


Merry Chris— I Mean Happy Holidays

I was going to wish you all a Merry Christmas just now

But that really offends sensitive people somehow

So instead I will say Happy Holidays my friends

I hope for your health and for joy that never ends

Rejoice with glee, season’s greetings one and all

Don’t fret just because out here snow doesn’t fall

Will you go out and frolic with your friends in the streets?

Or stay home and bake up some holiday treats?

I myself stayed indoors to escape the Wintry chill

We had honey-baked ham, and I sure got my fill

Now I roll off to bed to sleep and digest

I expect all of you to go have a good rest

Student + Dying = Studying


So maybe some of you have noticed my decreased presence on the blogosphere as of late (but you probably really didn’t :p). This is because of…finals! Dun dun dun *cue dramatic music*

I’ve been chained to my computer, yes, but also my books, notebooks, and loose papers strewn across my room containing knowledge which will allow me to pass all my classes. It is imperative that I study, because I have a poor retention ability for excesses of information, and since these finals are cumulative (with each final representing approximately 10 chapters each) I have to work triply as hard to remember everything.

I apologize for not contributing recently, but it is for the good of my education. I did, however, write this just now upon on the completion of one of my essays. A reverse-rhyme! It’s still AA BB format, except this time the first A rhymes with the second B – if that makes sense.

You thought that she was clever?

Never listen to that shrew!

(In that sentence, the use of  “shrew” is intended as an insult on the “she”)

I will probably be here and there and around dealing with real life for another couple of weeks. Wish me luck. Anyway, here you go.



Lost in a Bog of Scholastic Demise

One after another, the assignments stack.

Back to back, I’m never done.

This week and the last, I’ve been under stress.

Bless me fast with luck’s kiss.

Ignore the papers on the floor lined with scholarly text.

Next week finals, then after that more.

Weight of the pressure pushing down, oppressing my mind.

Confined to my fate, left in a sorry state.

Two more weeks until freedom carries me away.

May the end fill my eyes’ view.

Contemplating Myself

A short time ago, I was made aware that the man I was dating is an INFP.

For those of you who haven’t taken the Myers-Briggs test –

An INFP (Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Perceiving) is someone who is: idealistic, seeks and values harmony, open-minded and flexible, creative, passionate and energetic, as well as dedicated and hard-working.                                                                              Conversely they are: over-idealistic and altruistic, impractical, aversed to strict data dictation, take things personally, and are difficult to get to know.

…have a talent for self-expression, revealing their beauty and their secrets through metaphors and fictional characters.”

“…often drift into deep thought, enjoying contemplating the hypothetical and the philosophical more than any other personality type. “

…may start to lose touch, withdrawing into “hermit mode”, and it can take a great deal of energy from their…partner to bring them back to the real world.”

It all started when, the week following Halloween, he went awol on me. Several days with minimal contact and significantly shortened responses to my text messages. It wasn’t until about a week later that I was able to bring up the topic and became aware of his specific and sporadic emotional needs as an INFP.

I also decided to take the test, and my result labeled me an ENFJ (Extraverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging) – the opposite of an INFP.

Seems I am characterized as: tolerant, reliable, charismatic, altruistic, and a natural leader. On the other hand: being overly idealistic, too selfless, too sensitive, having a fluctuating self-esteem, and a tendency to struggle with making tough decisions

…radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said.”

The interest ENFJs have in others is genuine, almost to a fault – when they believe in someone, they can become too involved in the other person’s problems, place too much trust in them.”

“…vulnerable…have a tremendous capacity for reflecting on and analyzing their own feelings, but…they can develop a sort of emotional hypochondria, seeing other people’s problems in themselves, trying to fix something in themselves that isn’t wrong.”

The adage “opposites attract” seems to ring true in my case.

Regardless of any potentially conflicting characteristics we may exibit, I’ve come to learn that honesty and open communication are the keys to successful relationships (either in the sense of romantic or friendship-based). I’m an extrovert, but I tend to hide my feelings and opinions in order to avoid confrontation, so I admittedly have a lot of growing to do in the openness department.

I really am not the type to read too deeply in to personality tests and zodiac signs, but I cannot help seeing a correlation between my inherent traits and these things (I’m a Pisces, in case you were wondering). Moving forward, I think I ought to use such defining examinations as a supplemental resource on my journey of self-discovery.

No poems today. Just contemplation. Cheers!

Sources: INFP Personality   ENFJ Personality

Remembering Loved Ones Lost

I was thinking. I was thinking and thinking. Of what? My dear departed aunt.
It has been an amount of years I can no longer remember since she passed from complications with cancer. Sad. She was young. It really hurt our family – especially my mom’s side. It was a really hard time for all of us. I was still in high school, then.

It took a long time for the pain to really ebb. Up to this day, I still cry when I start talking about her to someone – it’s an automatic response. I can’t stop it. It’s like my heart and soul can’t control themselves. The tears just roll down my face.

I think of her and I remember so many fond memories and how many memories I am missing out on with her loss. But i know she loves us. And loving us the way she did, she wants me to be happy and smile, so I do. Every day I try very hard to smile and smile some more because that is what we do when we are hurting. We try to be happy like our loved ones would wish for us to be.

I won’t elaborate anymore, as this is a really touchy subject, but I hope you like this short work themed around remembrance of loved ones lost early.



Sometimes when I’m feeling blue

I look up at the sky and I think of you

If I’m being honest I wish you were here

I wish that you didn’t have to disappear

When you lose someone who you love

Just look to the sparkling night stars above

Count every one that might twinkle at you

Every now and again, that’s what I do

I remind myself that all lives have an end

And our broken hearts will always mend

Even if losses fill your heart with regret

One thing you won’t want to do is forget

Remember the ones that have come and gone

Stored in our heads are sweet memories to dwell on

Besides, they’re watching from somewhere up there

The last thing they want you to feel is despair

Nowadays I smile when I think of my Aunt

For us to be happy is what she would want

Taking a Crack at Narration

I couldn’t sleep last night, due to high stress from exam studying endeavors, so I took a break to try my hand at writing a story of sorts. My brain is exhausted from all the scholastic absorption I’ve been pounding in to it this week. I really needed a creative writing break. So this story is based off of the characters and plot from the book Journey to the West, a Chinese novel that was originally published in the 16th century. Good ole’ Wikipedia notes Journey to the West as:

…an extended account of the legendary pilgrimage of the Tang dynasty Buddhist monk Xuanzang who traveled to the “Western Regions”, that is, Central Asia and India, to obtain Buddhist sacred texts (sūtras) and returned after many trials and much suffering…” alongside his ragtag crew of disciples consisting of:

“…three protectors who agree to help him as an atonement for their sins… Sun WukongZhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, together with a dragon prince who acts as Xuanzang’s steed, a white horse.

I have not read the novel myself as of yet, but I do plan on it in the future. For now, this is just an experimental dabbling in to the world of storytelling. I want to try to exercise my imagination muscles and really get down with my subconscious fantastical tendencies. Well, let’s see where it goes. I may or may not continue the story, but here is chapter 1 of my [potentially interesting and exciting] novel dedicated to a novel.

Adventures of the Monkey King

Part 1: Distorted Retribution

Born of a most divine mountain range, the Monkey King waltzes idly atop his stone prison.

His shining golden eyes search with indomitable curiosity across the vast plateau below.

What he seeks is adventure beyond wildest imaginations, riding the clouds and exploring the world.

The Jade Emperor and Buddha colluded to confine him to that mountain’s bleak peak.

After all, it was he, Sun Wukong, who forced the soldiers of heaven to stir, causing a long, bloody war.

As the sun subsided behind the distant horizon, Wukong [for short] contemplated his madman plan.

“225 more years of this 500-century imprisonment left,” he said, bereft. ‘I’ll wreak havoc on this land with just my left hand.”

He wields his Jingu Bang – the celestial staff he won from the Dragon King – which can bend and extend.

It can transform and grow to colossal proportions, or shrink to the mere size of a tiny hairpin.

Whilst mulling over escape plans in his head, the monkey barely noticed the approaching drunk monk.

Inquisitively cocking his head back and forth, he decides to reveal himself to the ignorant traveler.

“Hark, o benevolent one who dares enter my rocky pass,” called the ape, with a slight hint of sass.

The monk slowly turned to recognize the new voice, eyes wide in disbelief at his luck and good fortune.

“It was thee whom I sought on my journey thus far, for I am in need of new disciples, and you’d make the right choice,” cried the monk in delight, in his tipsy high voice. “My name is Xuanxang, but you can call me Tang,” his jubilant tone sang.

At this suggestion Wukong’s face lit up with joy, since that meant he could finally end his confinement.

He grasped the monk’s hands in open agreement, ignoring the truth of the vow he’d mistakenly taken.

His heart now belonged to the holy bodhisattva Guanyin, Goddess of Mercy, forgiver of sin.

He felt it leave his body in a painless farewell as it leapt for the outstretched hands of the heavens.

An elysian gold band was embedded on his head to keep his unruly roughneck behavior in check.

“If ever this lad starts to act like a cad, simply mutter this mantra to restrict him a tad,” said Guanyin to the monk. “Oṃ maṇipadme hūṃ,” She whispered, nearly unheard. “Until the end of your journeys alongside Xuanxang, I must stress that you are powerless to remove this headband, Sun Wukong.” “Pardon, oh gallant, esteemed guardian of the heavenly peach tree garden,” she added, with a laugh.

Disappearing in an ethereal cloud of sparkling mist, she left the two travelers there, eyes still transfixed.

With his mouth hanging open in stark disbelief, Wukong gradually exhaled a grief-stricken sigh of relief.

Limericks from a Stressed Student

Good day on this fine Sunday to one and all. I tend to run my wording on a more serious note, so I have been practicing limericks trying to improve my comedic sense. As much as I try to make them humorous, I sometimes have a difficult time adding a silly tone to my writings. So what is a limerick?

Wikipedia defines a limerick as,

“…a form of poetry, often humorous and sometimes obscene, in five-line, predominantly anapestic meter with a strict rhyme scheme of AABBA, in which the first, second and fifth line rhyme, while the third and fourth lines are shorter and share a different rhyme.

Fancy that. Thus, the following are two limericks dedicated to the exhausting activity of studying in school. I have doubled them – instead of 5 lines, using 10. The following 5 are an extension for the entire poem.

I hope you enjoy and that I can manage even a soft chuckle out of you.


These Darn Never-Ending Study Sessions

These darn never-ending study sessions

See me drag myself through all my lessons

The pile of homework

Gives me a sly smirk

I hate never-ending study sessions


These darn never-ending study sessions

Are laden with such frustrating questions

Did my pen just scoff?

My hand might fall off!

Curse you never-ending study sessions
Drowning in a Sea of Exam Papers

Drowning in a sea of exam papers

Piled high in the air like skyscrapers

I can’t believe it

An end can’t be seen

What gives with this sea of exam papers?
Drowning in a sea of exam papers

Droves of scholastically fowl capers

Don’t go to bed yet

Don’t worry, don’t fret

Dare finish the mound of exam papers.

Dreaming a Dream of Dreams Dreamt

I was listening to the Les Misérables soundtrack and was inspired by the track I Dreamed a Dream to write this iteration of the lyrical composition. It was just such a beautiful song… it evoked within me the spirit to write! I haven’t seen it live or anything, but I thought the movie did a pretty decent job of presenting the work as it was mostly intended (though critics might certainly say otherwise). I am not a theater snob or anything – I just really like musicals and plays and stuff. Someday maybe I will be able to see it performed up close and personal!

So this rhymed poem will probably hit you in the heart a little bit. Feel free to come up with a tune to sing to it 😛 …I’m sure it can be done. To all my friends who’ve suffered heartache and such, I dedicate this short work to thee. I know I have. But life goes on. The reincarnation of the soul perseveres in the darkest of times and lowest of lows. We will be able to carry on.


A Dreamt Dream

Once the world was innocent and true,

Virtuous minds dreamt of clear oceans blue.

Whispers of lies were nary present.

Words were exchanged with honest intent.

That was a time ago.

Little did I know.


In the dreams that were dreamt in that illusory past,

I let my highest hopes be boldly cast.

Sweet brimming heart sang loving tunes.

Drinks shared beneath bright glowing moons.

Then darkness descended.

My dream had ended.


I knew not the risks of holding such blind belief,

Greedily snatched by the devious thief.

Trust was carelessly given and taken.

Lovers’ heart left torn and shaken.

He took off like a crow.

Blackened my soul in woe.


Still I dreamed of regaining that fantastic delusion.

A carefully painted  joyful illusion.

Once, I thought my life would be more than this,

Not suffering and pain, but wondrous bliss.

My dream has passed,

T’was killed at last.


Connecting to My [Inner] Self

I just wrote this! Yes. I was motivated by this brimming feeling in my heart to spill it across the pages of my journal. I have had an interesting experience as of late dealing with my expressive tendencies. I am noticing more about myself as I gain knowledge on different personality traits and the like.

At the beginning of the year, I went to a seminar on business leadership at my college, and found out that I have an “expressive” personality type.

We call the expressive the social specialist because they love to have fun. They are individuals who turn disaster into humor, they prevent dull moments, and they are very generous people. They want to be included.

On the strong side, the expressive is very outgoing. They are ambitious, charismatic, and persuasive. On the weak side, they can be disorganized, undisciplined, loud, and incredibly talkative. ”    -according to Crestcom Leadership

This pretty much is…well…me in a nutshell. Always the optimist of the group and always trying to make others happy! Not such a bad thing, right?

Well, I have been turning my expressiveness in to poetry lately, as well. This short poem is me trying to emulate the happiness I have been experiencing following some (what I would call “successful”) events in my life. It’s in an AaAa BB rhyme scheme, with the lowercase a’s signifying attempted rhymes in between. I really like rhyming things, if you couldn’t tell.

Now I have to get ready to go to class! Not fun. But it must be done. Everyone have a wonderful rest of your day, and take some time to get more in tune with yourselves moving forward.


Ecstatic Emotional Elation

While in the tall green grass I lie, the world around rolls swiftly by.

Searching clouds up in the sky, swirling dreams across the eye.

I know this place was made for me.

I feel so free.


Memories fade and memories grow from corners in my mind I know.

Familiar faces, far off places, flashing through subconscious show.

I look to the sky and then to the sea,

Replete with glee.


Breath in and out the cool rushing waves of blushing bliss.

Feeling the embrace of reminiscence in an honest kiss.

I know this amazing feeling will last,

Heart beating fast.


Every beat of my ecstatic heart filled to the brim with delight.

Plucking clovers, singing songs, making wishes on clouds bright white.

I sense the words within amassed,

Vast fields alight.


Rising from the grassy knoll, beauty surrounds my flowing soul.

Onward I stroll through the ebullient fields on my patrol.

I know now where my emotions go,

Within they grow.


Picking flowers lining the trail, face caressed by a soothing gale.

Sunshine lighting the way through the vale, following the events of our wondrous tale.

I anticipate which direction the world will flow,

Feelings I know.

Take Me Home

Here’s a little something from the heart. I just felt like writing my feelings down in a sickeningly sweet, crooning rhyme. It’s been an interesting couple of months with my emotions and trying to keep them reigned in! This is all about those thoughts and hopes we have when we’re on the feels train with a new relationship. I’m staying positive and emulating my innermost thoughts through my writing. It helps me stay calm and collected.

I hope you all can stay positive despite whatever pitfalls may occur in your life, or whatever uncertainties you might be perceiving as detrimental to your sanity. Happy Tuesday, all.

Take me Home

Take me home so we can roam
Wild and free
Heed my plea

Take me back with that Kodak
Burn the picture
Read the scripture

Take me there, if you dare
Hold my hand
Where we stand

Take me away so we can lay
Side by side
Nowhere to hide

Take me higher amidst the fire
Day by day
Say you’ll stay

Take me through the skies so blue
Fly with me
You will see

The Versatile Blogger Award


Shazam. This happened. How? It was the notorious nominator of nominations himself, Grabbety Covens – thank you, kind sir! This guy’s WordPress page displays upon it, very brazenly, I might add, this statement – “You’ve survived what you thought would destroy you. Now…get the fuck up, dust yourself off, and keep pushing forward…”  How about that for some motivation?

I would’ve never thought I’d be nominated for anything at all while a part of this blogosphere. I am truly honored by this consideration!

Who am I, the Indicatively Imaginative?

  1. A Finance student at a college in San Francisco, seeking intellectual enlightenment. I have gone through a good portion of my life without direction, and finally braced myself to take on higher learning to the fullest of my abilities. I have lacked confidence, and in my darkest times have sought long-term self-betterment through education.
  2. A motorcycle riding hellion that loves long rides along the coast. I tend to take my bike out when I am feeling exceptionally angsty and lose myself in my thoughts amidst the wind whipping against my helmet’s protective shell. Oh, and I blast music the whole time, too.
  3. I like the outdoors. I love hiking and camping and the like, however, I am deathly allergic to all things naturally growing! Woo…hoo…not. I get allergy immunization therapy shots every week. It’s poopy, but I hope to one day not fear a long walk through a field of flourishing flowers. P.S. I am allergic to animals and I have a dog.
  4. I fight with anxiety disorder and I used to battle with depression for some time. I am slowly weening off my medications with the help of my therapists and my friends and family. Without the people in my life that care about me, I believe I would be a lost cause in the stream of the world – flowing aimlessly in to an uncertain oblivion for the rest of my days.
  5. I am an extreme optimist! Contrary to fact #4, I tend to think only good things. Great things. I set my bar very high for satisfaction, which tends to lead to my demise overall. I have been learning to curb my optimism in a more realistic way to combat this grave tendency of mine. But hey, I am still going to be a happy-go-lucky source of ebullient extravagant energy!
  6. I cook and I bake like a semi-pro chef. Hey hey. I can whip up a meal for one, or two, or twelve, so if you ever want to throw a party, let me cater (for the cost of groceries!). But really, the kitchen is my zen zone. It is a place where I can cook away my worries in to plates of delectable foodstuffs. Sharing meals with the people I love really brings me solace in times of turmoil.
  7. No one in my family has a college degree. I am going to be the first! I don’t count my brother’s art degree because he doesn’t use it. First actual Bachelors degree in the family – I am super proud of myself. If you need a financial adviser or investment analyst, I’ve got you covered. Though I am still not confident in my ability to apply my learnings to real world applications, I feel like I will succeed in the future. Winning.

My Nominees will be…

  1. Grabbety Covens
  2. Beckies Mental Mess
  3. Kelley Farrell
  4. Hope Is Hard
  5. dharkanein
  6. Beauty By Wanji
  7. The Pradita Chronicles
  8. Manic Teodora
  9. Short Prose
  10. Sharmaji Se Kaho
  11. The Jaguar
  12. Jacob Quirke
  13. Amanda Wilson
  14. Fictionspawn Monsters
  15. On The Couch


If you are nominated, you’ve been awarded the Versatile Blogger award. These are the rules:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you to receive this award.
  2. Include a link to their blog.
  3. Write seven facts about yourself.
  4. Nominate 15 Blogs or Bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly, which you think are excellent bloggers and deserve some recognition. Include a link to their blog.
  5. Inform your nominees of their nomination.

And with that ends my post. I want to thank again Grabbety Covens for the nomination.

I say that all my nominees are winners of this award I present to thee! Congratulations to you all and keep writing up the awesome works I have had the honor of enjoying reading. You all motivate me to keep writing, myself, and to strive for excellence in my storytelling and the like. Kudos. Hugs. High-fives. All the things. Angela, signing off.

Facing Yourself in the Mirror

I think that at some point in life, we sometimes functions under the guise of a falsified persona to protect ourselves from hurt and pain. The “masks” we put on can represent many things – low self-esteem, lack of confidence, fear of judgement, or other such negatively connoted emotional criteria, etc. The list can be long and unforgiving. One day, the mask comes off, and we then expose ourselves to the truth of the world, accepting the potential to be hurt again, or to be disappointed.

The reason you look in the mirror and judge yourself might even be body dysmorphic disorder. I struggle with this all the time, and have since I was in my youth (though I’m getting better!), always keen on repeating negative things about myself or appearance in my head that caused me constant, severe mental and emotional stress.

The Anxiety and Depression Association of America characterizes BDD as:      “persistent and intrusive preoccupations with an imagined or slight defect in one’s appearance…”                                                                                                                                        It then goes on to explain that:                                                                                                  “…for someone with BDD, the flaw is significant and prominent, often causing severe emotional distress and difficulties in daily functioning.”

But hey, on the bright side, know that the mask indeed CAN come off, with enough practice and even with surrounding yourself with people who are supportive and have the right attitudes. Despite the many masks I myself have worn through my life, I have chosen to be honest and true with myself hereon and take the mask off, exposing myself to whatever the world around me might throw at me, despite my inclinations to sell myself short or criticize myself. It opens you up to wonderful and beautiful things, too. I hope that those of us who still wear those masks can learn to be true to themselves and give life a chance to impress them.

You are worth it. Believe in yourself. Believe in the ability of others to recognize your uniquely beautiful soul.

Aside: If you ever need a little bolstering motivation or a helping hand, you’re always free to send me a private message for a chat. I’m not psychiatrist, but I can be a good ear, when needed.

Smile on and follow along with this poem dedicated to the hopeful unmasking of an uncertain heart.


Mirror Misconception and Masked Imperfection

Peering in to prudent eyes reflecting morosely in the mirror,

her face slid forward, fixed gaze locked, drawing ever nearer.

With curiosity, inquiringly cognizant of the face which echoed back,

regarding with such intensity, one thought the mirror might crack.

Contemplating the visage of a woman she barely knew,

wondering whether her view was deception, or properly true.


Days and months passed, years came and went.

Each mask she had donned now looked terribly bent.

It had been many a time that this face she’d replaced.

Gloomily gawking at the likeness before her, disgraced.

Pooling in her eyes was a fountain of tears

as she confessed all her deepest, darkest black fears.


The masks which had carefully been made

had suddenly become sadly decayed.

Off the masks came, layer by layer,

amidst the breathless whisper of a promiseful prayer.

Beneath the thickness of lies and deceptions,

she no longer perceived her prideful misconceptions.


Ogling objectively at this fresh face she saw,

to much her surprise, it was found with no flaw.

Observing her newfound confident smile

made her the happiest she’d felt in a very long while.

Renewed with excitement, having been undisguised,

she was finally freed from the past she despised.


She touched each cheek with a gentle caress

then quickly slipped in to her prettiest dress.

It had been so long since she felt this way.

She was urged to step out in the light of the day

And felt the warm sun rays kissing her skin

As she walked through the world with her satisfied grin.

The Season of Fall

Happy Sunday blog buddies!

I hope everyone is having a fun Halloween pre-weekend. I whipped up this quick little Fall-dedicated poem to symbolize the inevitability of losing something. Trees lose their leaves daily – by the second, minute, hour, and on. Trees are kind of good examples for the practice of meditation and mindfulness. When you meditate, you essentially seek to let your thoughts freely flow in and out of you, observing them, and letting them go without dwelling too rightly upon them. Leaves die and fall, then grow again. Leaves have many different colors, signifying the variation in thought processes.

The constant flow of life for a tree! How cool. These tall, wise, old inanimate beings. Nature is a beautiful thing. I’m glad I can use a tree as a solid example for thoughtful contemplation. Symbolism for the win.

Enjoy this quick one and have a great rest of your day.


Falling Fall Leaves

Fall is the season

During which trees shed their leaves

They fall in tall piles

Which are visible for miles

The leaves of varying hues

Are what the branches will lose

By mid Autumn, the limbs are bare

But the trees don’t care.

When Spring comes back to this town,

Fresh new leaves will come around

Searching for Meaning

In a bout of spur-of-the-moment flowing creativity, I wrote this “story” if you will about a girl on a shadowy journey, seeking redemption and purpose in her lackluster life. It is meant to be that way, I think, though as I wrote it, I felt more like I was making up some epic tale about a fantastically brave yet lonely heroin. That’s neither here, nor there. This one is mostly, if not entirely, rhyme-free. Writing it gave me a shot at exploring my potential ability to compose stories, as I’ve been considering putting one together over a period of time. The style is definitely in that of a novel-esque production.

Here’s to hoping you enjoy this lady’s little romp through the – guess what – darkness, yet again reaching towards an end lined with pure illumination to wash away whatever guilt or regret she has holed up in her heart. I might see a little bit of myself in this lass. Oh, and I won’t be highlighting/bolding/coloring any of the words in this one, because I want you readers to really get immersed in the descriptive emphasis I’ve woven in to each line. Have fun! It’s a smidgeon long, so read on!

She Searches for Meaning

The deep hallway lay before her in a void of cold darkness, it called out in its shadow solitude as damp walls met the flesh of her fingertips, tracing patterns on its long untouched face.

Gravity sucked her towards the void, tempting the wispy hem of her fringed white gown as though a feeble breeze had swept through the lonely passageway from nothingness.

She strained her eyes to see to the end of the hall, but, powerless to discern any end to it all, onward she struggled through the shade the precarious pass presented her.

Thoughtfully tiptoeing forth, groping at the jet black air, hands seeking guidance, she sallied forth in her effort to find the reprieve of light assuredly awaiting at the end of it all.

Dust collected on her dress with each careful step, as if to slow her efforts, to drag her down, and she regarded that deep darkening path with both interest and concern.

Concern for what she may find at the finish line, for what she may not find, with wonder at the potential failure that awaited her frail frame.

The quiet hallway breathed confidence down her spine, setting the hairs on the surface of her skin to attention, drawing her ever further in to the recesses of the straight maze of secrecy.

Blind to the intentions whispered in the wind, her prying conviction to conquer the desolate wasteland caused her to shiver with anticipation.

For miles she walked, counting each peerless step, until finally she reached a solid structure standing guard in her pathway through the void.

With a lightly placed tap, it began to crumble – slowly at first, then, like a stack of dominoes, it tumbled in a dusty jumble about her bare feet.

What vision met her delicate eyes was the soothing glow of a solitary flame in the distance, which, from what she could tell, drifted amidst a graveyard of leather-bound books along a hallway of bookcases.

Trembling fingers reached out and glided smoothly across the spine of each abandoned book, and her leisurely exploration turned to one of earnest curiosity to uncover the lives of each worn text.

The supple leather felt like silk to the touch, and though wanting to painstakingly discover each novel, she resigned to rest her excitedly shaky hands on a single work.

This volume displayed an extravagantly embroidered cover, laden with faintly glistening thread the color of iridescent pearl, and dyed a deep wine red.

Upon opening the novel to learn what sort of tantalizing tale it enclosed within its grandiose shell, she found not but blank, dusty pages worn from the unknown time it spent on that deserted shelf.

In her perceptive peripheral vision, with the aid of the still tenderly flickering flame, the shape of an ink pen stood plainly poised on the adjacent bookcase’s ledge.

Suddenly, she was overcome with the notion to write – but what, one might ask themselves in this momentous occasion, would she write of?

Understanding swelled up within her soul, and upon taking the pen up in her hesitant grasp, she began composing stories in a dreamlike fashion which told of things that had been both seen and not.

Years went by for her in the solitude of the dimly lighted chamber, being nourished only by the flowing visions which left her mind and splashed across those pages in vivid expression.

One day, the walls around her began to dissolve in to sparkling dust, opening up to a remote field of luminescent blue irises.

In disbelief, she closed and rubbed her tired eyes vigorously, opening them again only to find that that which she laid her eyes upon was neither a deception nor a delusion.

Baffled by the scene, she put down her enchanted book, and cautiously walked past where the bookcases had disappeared, letting her skirt catch gingerly on each flower she traversed along.

Smiling, she closed her eyes once again, letting the feeling of freedom and marvel envelop every inch of her body, and laid down delicately amidst the sapphire blossoms.

The roots of the perennials enrobed her fatigued limbs as she breathed a sigh of relief, giving herself to the surrounding hallowed ambiance, and she perished in that field with the smile still lingering.

To this day, no one has been able to find either that bewitched place or the spellbound tome which she scrawled her life away in to, spellbound for all those years – and no one ever will.

March On, My Friends

Now today, on this bright, sunny day, I have decided I would concoct a bit of a more repetitive, lyrical alliteration work. I don’t quite know how one would sing it, but I think it does have a catchy rhythm to it, no? It is reminiscent of my days in catholic school, and the many Sundays spent responding to hymnals in my local church (albeit I am not religious, in the slightest). The theme is “discovering the world in all its glimmer and gloom, and experiencing life through the eyes of a struggling-but-optimistic human being.” Sunny days make me exceptionally susceptible to hopeful thinking!

We all go through life experiencing its promises of wonderment and opportunity, but occasionally we are met with unsatisfactory situations. Though they dot our lives with their malicious intent, learning experiences always come from the moments we fear most. So I say march on, to brighter days and self-betterment. Left foot, right foot, rinse and repeat. Hold a hand or two along the way, but never admit defeat.


Onward We March

To the droning dribble of a daring drumroll

Onward we march

Through forests and fields and valleys we stroll

Onward we march

Past life and love and laughter abound

Onward we march

Over runnels and rills and rivers around

Onward we march

Moving through markets and marshes and mountains merrily

Onward we march

Surveying frigates and farmland and fountains fairily

Onward we march

Accruing answers and archives and achievements readily

Onward we march

Escaping eclipses and earthquakes and endeavors intruding

Onward we march

Courting confidence and compassion and calm eluding

Onward we march

Adventurous Alliteration Analysis

Another evening of of insomniatic contemplation edges by, and produces from my mind a most intriguing exploration in to my ability to alliterate by sentences. I took this featured picture last night of the Bay Bridge when I was traipsing about the Embarcadero. It made for a nice photograph, I think. Not bad for a cellphone camera.

This was a fun, but frustrating one to compose. The dictionary definition of alliteration is as follows:

the occurrence of the same letter or sound at the beginning of adjacent or closely connected words

Following is the story of the sun setting, the moon rising, and then dawn yet again being destined to break the darkness. It is meant to narrate how the brightness of life can embrace us in its pleasant warmth of goodness and wholesomeness, and the darkness can take it away mercilessly. However, the bright side of things is that we can come out of the darkness again to see the light – to see the good in life. As human beings, we are susceptible to failures and accomplishments alike. As the wave of our existence climaxes and falls, we learn to roll with the punches and overcome our shortcomings to grow.

I hope you all can find a positive message in this one!

As the sun slips bashfully behind the broad, secluded supine skyline

Its lustrous light lingers no longer, leaving the limitless land lurid

The mysterious moon makes moves to maintain its moonlit manipulation

Darkness decorates the desolate, dimming distant spreading still-starless sky in drab dress


From the fading fireplaces of farmhouses and family homes, faint fluorescence flows

As the ethereal evening envelopes every estate’s edge, stars eagerly emerge

Radiating rays of reckless resplendence restlessly roam the region

Collecting clusters of concordant eyes to contemplate their eternal effervescence


Laymen looked on lethargically, lulling their hypnotized heads with heartfully lackadaisical lullabies

Nonchalantly nodding off in to the nothingness of the nefarious nightfall

Unaware of the unearthly utterances of unearthly unbalance unraveling unanimously

The world was waiting weakly while whispering waterfalls of wonderment

Dawn drearily dragged itself desperately, dripping dollops of dim daylight downward

Twilight tried tensely to thwart the trembling temptation to tiredly turn in

But being bullied beneath the brilliance of brightness beaming boisterously behind it

Rescinded restfully regarding repose rightly repaid to its relentless rally


Though the things thought thereafter through timeless trances tarried

Humanity hinged haughtily heavenward hoping helplessly, having hallucinated horrors

Slumber streaked silent suggestion sloppily spattered shortly, silhouetted by scrupulosity

Relief reclaimed reticent remembrance realized by rambling reasoning


So the shining sun slept, the mystical moon mounted, then the daring dawn drove down the darkness.

From fear and faltering consciousness comes capable resolve reminding rabble of sanguine salvation.


Money Makes Me…

Today I was pondering the balance in my bank account, and my Mint app was lording over me a negative income balance for the month of October thus far….meaning – I spent more than I earned. Blast. It happened. Finally, it happened. I hit my highest disparity of income-to-expenditure that I have had in over a year. This realization befell me after I lost some money in my stock portfolio due to poor speculation.

Realistically, I only have myself to blame for not researching more adeptly the flows in which the stock market might ebb in. Also, for going and trying to be social and spending excesses of my funds on foodstuffs and fun times. I am learning my lesson this time. I’ve been playing this like I don’t have a full deck. I just have to sit here and amass my [minute, insignificant, miniscule] wealth again so I can level the playing field. I have to let sleeping dogs lie – in this case, the dogs are my money (or lack thereof). Sorry, I got turned on to idioms today, and I’m feeling ten feet tall over it.

Enough! The following poem consists of rhyming couplets in groups of two (so like, a quadruplet?) with an AABB rhyming rhythm. I might even call it a lengthy lyric. Enjoy my rantings and ravings over my wanton wastefulness this month.

Money Makes Me Mental

Money really makes me mental

I can barely afford my dental

Prices rise and incomes fall

Any cost is far from small


Where did all my money go?

Feels like I don’t ever know

Groceries and restaurants

Casual little shopping jaunts


Despairing as my stocks all tank

See the balance in my bank

That’s what you get for speculating

The stock market can be frustrating


Why don’t you just shred your card?

That, my dear, would prove too hard

One must spend, one must eat

We all deserve a little treat


Bills and costs hold hands like friends

The spending cycle never ends

But whenever a paycheck drops

My wallet joyously hip hops


How long ‘til green turns to red?

Maybe when I’m flat out dead

Pace yourself, you’re almost out

Try to shake off all the doubt


Random items wished on Amazon

Means the money soon will be gone

Just don’t press the checkout button!

Quit buying things, you silly glutton!

We Regret to Forget What Time Ticks Away

So I wrote this short one as a nod to memories and times past. I was thinking about all the situations in my life which I would wish to forget, but would always remember in flickering pictures swimming across my eyes when I lay my head to sleep. We all have those times in our lives we wish to relive, and those times can also be the hardest for us to hold on to. Rather, we really don’t want to be able to revisit those times so vividly in our heads. It can drive a person to both despair and happiness in a moment. Remembering can be taxing. Remembering can be hurtful. Remembering can be motivating, as well.

We live and we learn from mistakes we’ve made. We grow. We live. We persevere. Through all the trials and tribulations of life, time guides us through the annals of existence. Keep on keeping on, says the clock. It ticks by seconds, minutes, hours, days, years… and so on and so forth. Finding the strength to interpret where we have come from to where we are now can be tough. Being able to survive with the weight of our actions is a monumental chore.

But here I am, the person I am today, because of the past. Living in the now. Looking to the future. Reaching for what time will bring in to my life to be.


We Regret to Forget What Time Ticks Away

Time flies by in a winged rush

Feathering off flurried whirlwinds

Wiping memories on the tip of a paintbrush


Chiming away with every tick

Wooden chamber suppressing dreams

Time skips by desperately quick


Where do the pictures of our past dwell?

Grandfather time hides them away in his burlap sack

Consciousness rings out like a bell under a spell


Winding breaks as the clock slows down

Pastimes fade in to bleak fogs encapsulating forests

Time is a bog where memories drown


If what you seek is to regain

Those fantasies past, you wish to recapture,

Prepare to face your fears and pain


The Condemnation of a House in my Dream

The other night I had the most visually stimulating and somewhat scary dream I’ve had in a while. As soon as I was awoken from my slumber by the dream’s end, I jotted down as much a I could remember, and decided to write it out and dedicate this next blog post to the scene.

I was wondering through the morning whether the dream had any significance. I turned to the Google-sphere to seek a meaning and came up with these notes:

  • To dream of seeing a house being destroyed: represents some area of your life that you have become accustomed to coming to an end. A perspective on a situation being normal or stable being ruined.
  • To dream of a broken or damaged house: may reflect feelings about your life deteriorating or your identity threatened. Something valuable in your life feels crushed or lost. A sense that a situation is becoming troubling. It may also reflect feelings about your body being damaged

(information acquired from

I am not sure that I fall under either of these descriptions provided, but I will have to mull it over in my mind a little if I do wish to seek the significance of this dream. It might very well just be a random vision, with no specific connection to my reality. This is my first narrative story-style writing, so hopefully it is an enjoyable, short read. Have a wonderful Thursday. The weekend is almost nigh. We can all make it in one piece!


The empty house groaned gravely from its rotting wooden beams. A dismal room displayed wooden cooking tools, scattered about like jewels in a cavernous treasure trove of memories. Sunlight bled sharply through the dust-caked windows with a gentle and warmth infused glow. On this auspicious day, a drove of doves drifted delicately past the single glass window on the far side of the space. It was spotted with dust so much so that the doves seemed distorted. The decaying mahogany floorboards creaked cryptically in rhythm. Wind raked at the weather-worn rooftop in a scornful sonata as a thunderous downpour swept the sun away, soaking through the softened seams of decomposing wall’s panels. The scent of the murky mud that bubbled up from a far corner of the room flowed freely across the carpet with purpose.

As time crawled on, the house surrendered to that sickening mire. The sound of a hound broke the reckless resonance of rainfall rattling against the roof’s shuddering shingles. As if on cue, a chorus of thunder rang through the house, and lightning blazed patterned panoramas of what little dusty furniture rested rigidly in their long forgotten posts. The flashes frantically flittered about the residence like a lackluster lantern, revealing the ridiculous reality of the state of dire disrepair which plagued the devastated dwelling. Torn velvet curtains, soaked in a dull shade of red, thrashed wildly against their sunken supports. Shattered crystalline glasses sprawled across the floor in kaleidoscopic disarray. In scarce view leaned a solitary table, tipped against the boundary of a blackened brick fireplace. For what seemed an eternity, after rumbling across every rain soaked wall, the thunder echoed egotistically down the deep dreary hall and was devoured by the darkness.

The gloom of the room was now even more painfully pronounced by the absence of that briefly flittering luminous light. The reverberating lumber pillars which kept the house standing had started to crumble numbly to the ground in fragmented heaps. Moldy timber peaked out from beneath the grime that sloughed off the stanchions. One by one, the posts tumbled with tremendous weight upon the flooring, which surrendered willfully to the heft of the burden. The ground caved in with relative ease, and took with it bookcases, chairs, and the rest. That old house yielded at last to its age, and with a sigh of relief, it dissolved decisively in to the dirt.

When the house had finally finished its departure from that spot, the sun peeked defiantly through dissipating rain clouds high up above. The sky shifted from black to blue with a speed that was questionable – for having observed with disbelief the dire scene which had just taken place, none could imagine with what immeasurable strength that bright ball of salvation had employed to break free. Piercing rays of sunlight swiftly warmed the wet ground until grass, trees, and flowers started popping up promptly from the spot where that house had made its grave. The dreaminess of this perfect picture was a sight to behold. A well-groomed group of geese blissfully bellowed their chiming calls across the brightened blue sky. Mysterious magic floated through the air, carried on the gently blowing breeze that wishfully wrapped around the blooming expanse, and brought life back to that once-abandoned wasteland.

Exploring Limericks

As previously promised, I’ve composed a collection of literary limericks to share. I must admit, in trying to adhere to the specific style of this poem, I had a mildly difficult time of it. But, regardless, it was fun, and I certainly think they’re fairly funny.

I’m at my wit’s end with writing these whimsical rhymes. I wrote these while I was impossibly imprisoned in my classes on campus with little stimuli to occupy my mind besides a constant chirping outside the window behind me. Nothing like a handful of silly rhyming poems to start off your day with a smile.

A Strange Lady with a Silly Red Hat

A strange lady with a silly red hat

Went to fetch her darling child wearing that

Who, down at the school

T’was seen as a fool

Since his mother wore that silly red hat

Waiting Outside in the Cold Autumn Rain

Waiting outside in the cold autumn rain

Was a damsel waiting for the last train

The chill of the night

Made her skin seem white

As she stood there in the cold autumn rain

Fear Not, For Here Comes the Fearless Don Juan

Fear not, for here comes the fearless Don Juan

Riding his steed swiftly across the lawn

He fell to the floor

And loudly he swore

Bystanders taunted the fearless Don Juan

There Was a Bottle of Milk in his Kilt

There was a bottle of milk in his kilt

Full to the brim, it would spill with a tilt

A stray cat soon came

To play a small game

It made plans to take the milk in his kilt

I liked the third one the most – about the fearless Don Juan – since I have recently taken up the task of re-reading through Don Quixote. Just a little nod at a great written work.

Keep in mind that today’s lesson was on limerick. The standard format is rhymed in an AABBA fashion – as in the 1st, 2nd, and 5th lines rhyme, then the 3rd and 4th lines rhyme. The limerick is delivered with a lighthearted, playful, even absurd tone. The 1st line is where you introduce the focus subject (i.e. the main character, even an object, animal, or place), followed by some comical tie-ins and a conclusion to the short story.

Simple, enough, right? Why not try making your own limericks? It could be fun.


Introduction to the Narrator


Greetings ye who fortuitously ventured upon this blog page. This is Angela, your resident fledgling wordsmith, bidding you a most hospitable welcome to this new enterprise wherein I aim to take you on a fantastical jaunt through my indicatively imaginative mind. I’d like to start with a little bit of a pseudo-introduction to my person and what to expect from this blog.

I was born and raised in San Francisco, CA, however I do not live directly within the city itself, for it would be a detriment to my already meager college student income. I am a Finance student, which might come to you as a surprise in that I aspire to deliver a reasonably eloquent slew of poems, narratives, short stories, food-related contemplations, and other prose. There will also be random text coloration and photographic elements casually added to posts to supplement your visual faculties. On occasion, I might also throw in a sprinkle of financial and economics associated advice. However, overall, I seek simply to provide you inquisitive readers with some evocative, imagination stimulating literary compositions. Or so I hope.

To get us off on the right foot, I would like to bestow you with your first taste of one-of-many of my poetic productions to come. Let’s have a short set of independent haikus with a weather theme.

The ocean waves roll

Roughly storming and swirling

Flipping a frail boat

                                         The wind howls in grief

                                         Leaves whip fiercely through the air

                                         A gale wind sweeps past

                                                                                 Sunlight shines so bright

                                                                                 Glaring between tall treetops

                                                                                  Flame colored luster

The date is October 16, 2017, and thus concludes our first brief encounter. Tune in next time for an experiment with limericks and rhymes.