Broken Melody

~Charles~

It was early afternoon, and Charles should have been napping at home instead of yawning while standing around in their school's soccer field. But they needed to be here during their free time to start practicing for their English class requirement. His eyes flicked over his blockmates' faces. They were clustered in a circle around a dirty tile table, gazing with rapt attention at Ronnie, who was acting as the class leader.

"So… any ideas?" Ronnie was asking them now. When no one spoke up, he singled out Honey, who was squatting on the ground and pulling on the grass with her hands, adding to the layer of freshly cut grass. "Didn’t your class win choral recitations back in high school? Maybe you can share some pointers."

"Um… we can pull out some lines from the middle of the piece and recite them at the beginning, as our introduction," she suggested, brushing the grass off her palms. "We could also get someone to sing a patriotic song at one point, as background music while the rest of us recite. That someone being Melody, of course." Everyone's heads turned to look from her face to another one that looked like hers a few feet away.

Meaning Moments

Today, something shocking happened. I discovered that there was such a thing as a gentleman in Singapore. Don't blame me for that statement. In the Philippines, when you ride the train, it goes without saying that men will not take a seat if there is a lady standing. In all the months that I had spent riding the trains and buses here, young and able-bodied men raced to take the seats before me. I had therefore assumed that the entire country was devoid of chivalry. Until today.

The Boy Next Door

I ignore my immediate surroundings,
Focus to turn down the noise,
Hearing's suddenly sharper,
Trying to catch fragments of voice.

How I wish that I had X-ray vision
So I could see right through the wall
Then I shall behold in the next room
The boy that I'm longing for.

Body may be seated in this classroom
But mind has decided to soar
Grades will probably be doomed
But I love the boy next door.

Tamed

As twilight nudges day
and makes a crimson puzzle out of the city
I feel not the chill of the biting wind
and ignore the dance of the coruscating gems below.

His solitary figure arrests my gaze.

Within my chest, a stirring –
It is my heart, whispering,
Longing to erase
the tincture of sadness upon his countenance.

My arms stretch to give a comforting embrace
Almost, but don’t quite reach him.

Within my head, a stirring –
It is my brain, whispering,
Pulling my arms back.

He is no longer mine to comfort.

~~~
“You are forever responsible for the ones you tame.”
-The Little Prince

Unbidden

Eros, you pierced my heart with your arrow,
Perhaps charged by your mom, Aphrodite -
The golden goddess of love and beauty.
Deep inside, these feelings begin to grow,
Sweat freely trickles from my fevered brow;
I've never met anyone such as he,
All I want is for him to be with me,
I pray that he'll never ever go.

Why, Eros? Why hit me with your arrow?
My life has been veered totally off course;
I can't decide whether he's friend or foe.
He granted me joy, yet let my tears flow;
I bid my love goodbye, full of remorse -
Before this, was my life better, or worse?

I Miss You, Love

You were my second love, I was eleven
I was not that good at loving you at first
But as I spent more and more time with you
I fell in love. Was it a gift or a curse?

I used to lie on my stomach, in bed with you
Miss out on a couple of hours of TV or sleep
What did it matter? You invoked passion in me
I turned to you when I wanted to laugh or weep.

I used to have a lot of time for you
Spend hours upon hours absorbed
I even said I wanted to spend all my time with you
And someday, I’ll be true to my word.

But for now I must turn my attention
To the world that earns me my keep
And so busy I’ve been lately that I’ve no time for you
And when I do have spare time, I’d rather sleep.

You were my second love, Writing.
Reading was my first.
I’m just busy lately but I want you to know
I miss you so much, it hurts.

Keeping Kelly

She was near tears, I could tell. But she tried her best to keep them at bay. Maybe it was because she did not want to ruin the face that her makeup artist had spent hours on perfecting. But it would not have mattered even if she had ruined the makeup. It would not have mattered even if there had been no makeup at all in the first place. She would still have been the most beautiful bride in the world, regardless.

For someone who was such a crybaby, she was really good at holding back. I wish I had her restraint. My own eyes were like the Niagara Falls right now. But how could I help it? No amount of willpower would have won against the power of the beauty that hushed the crowd the moment the wooden doors were thrown open. And as she walked – no, floated – closer towards me, I wondered how I could have been so lucky, to have her in my life for the rest of it. I also wondered how I could ever have not been struck by her beauty from the very beginning.

Release

Grey stared at the pensive faces of his Accounting freshmen students as they sat hunched over their desks covered with worksheets, questionnaires, calculators and rulers. The periodic sound of calculators and ballpens clattering on the bare concrete floor broke the heavy silence that hung in the air.

As he continued to stare at the sweat pouring off his students' furrowed brows, a sense of sadness swept over him. How many of these youngsters were Grey in the making? How many of them were feeling trapped in a path they had not chosen and would later live to regret? How many had given up their dreams because they were too timid to stand up and fight for their right to choose, to live?

The Tale Behind DeeTales

When I watched the movie Julie & Julia, I got struck when Julie said, "I'll cook my way through the Julia Child cook book and write a blog about it. I'll probably need a deadline otherwise it will be like everything else I do. Let's face it, I never finish anything." That is sooo me!

In the end, though, she was able to finally finish something. So inspiring, right? What makes it even more inspiring is that it was based on a true story. This is her real life blog.

If she can do it, so can I. I just need to set a deadline, like she did. So here's my goal and my deadline.

The goal: write one short story or script every month.

The deadline: every last day of the month.

Thus, this blog is born. Stay tuned. ;)