30 day writing challenge

So my friends and I have decided to start on 30-day writing challenge! We have come out with a list of topics:

1. Addiction
2. Pink
3. Shoes
4. Hair
5. Strings
6. Ghosts
7. Weakness
8. Connection
9. Happy
10. Food
11. Desert
12. Elbows
13. Acne
14. Malleable
15. Rising
16. Rooms
17. Fetishist
18. Fluorescent
19. Family
20. Space
21. Cluck
22. Clutter
23. Grace
24. Forgiveness
25. Procrastination
26. Gravity
27. Tissue
28. Poison
29. Fingernail
30. Today

As well as a list of challenges:

POETRY

1. Write a Sonnet
2. Write a Limerick
3. Write a Haiku
4. Write a Ode
5. Write in Shakespearean English
6. Write a poem with only 1 verse
7. Write while slightly inebriated

PROSE

1. Write a 7 word prose
2. Write  in the second person narrative
3. Write with graphic description
4. Write while listening to a song (mention song at the end)
5. Write purely in dialogue
6. Write while slightly inebriated

Everyday, we would use a randomizer to choose a topic and we would have 24 hours to come up with a poem or prose. Themes and topics are open to any sort of interpretation. We may attempt the challenges at any time, as long as we complete all of them during the 30 days. All of our work would be posted in our collective blog Oddly Inspired, which is already linked to my blog.

30 day writing challenge (day 1)

Topic: Procrastination

Tomorrow, Please

I have always been loving you. When you drew your first breath
in my arms, I touched a miracle. You made
physical pain feel indescribably amazing.
When you took your first steps
into my embrace, I witnessed light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw trust -the first in your circle. It was
enthralling. When you first held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I felt love.
When you first called my name, "Mama!",
I heard music. My innocent sweetheart, you are a work of God's.
I am Mama.

Remember how you used to come back to me everyday?
The sweetest voice is never too far off the motorized
clink-clank of the yellow metal capsule. "Mummy!"
and suddenly, the sun shines a little brighter, the grass grew a
little taller and the flowers bloom a little bigger.
I remember when you told me you got a gold star for
English. I wore my pride as a badge atop my motherly
breasts. I remember when I was called to school to
watch you receive your awards. I clapped loudest in that
auditorium. I cheered longest. The moment captured, framed and
proudly displayed on our mantle. My little genius, you are a work of God's.
I am mummy.

I recollect when yoou wanted to be a princess -
puffy green dresses, silver tiaras, golden glitter and fairy wings.
You were celestial.
Then, fashion changed and princesses were dressed with
blood red lips, black eyeliner, mini skirts and cropped tops.
You were celestial.
I recollect when you would come home and weep. "Mum".
Girls can be a mean bunch. Boys make you miserable.
As I heard the sniffles of your door, my heart pounded with you.
As I heard the whimper of your room, my heart cried with you.
As I heard the exclamation of your tears, my heart broke with you.
My stained-faced child, you are a work of God's.
I am mum.

I'll always love you. As you heave through the ventilators
in my arms, I wished for a miracle. Your silence make
the pain in my chest feel almost unbearable.
When you threw yourself into my embrace and I heard
the empty bottle rattle on, I longed for light. You wobbled
towards me with hands outstretched and from
your eyes, I saw the life seeping out of your soul like
the white froth at the corner of your mouth. It was
fear I never could imagine. When you held my hand and planted a kiss
on my cheek, I prayed for salvation.
When you gasped my name, "ma",
I cried for mercy. My broken perfection, you are a work of God's.
Who am I if not for you?

My baby, please do not go today.

The Living Progression - breathe live reflect touch

The Living Progression - breathe live reflect touch

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of her love.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes in her face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of his passion,

red flashes on his face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes in my face.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm –

the sound of my thoughts.

Dm mm, dm mm, dm mm, dm mm,

red flashes on your face,

the sound of your cries.

Purple Guitar

About my feelings of going to the DSC clinic tmr.

Purple Guitar

G chord for starters. Let me sing you a song today.

It’s about love, like how all good songs are, for you, of you.

It will tear you apart and touch your heart. You will beg

and plead and cry. May mercy be bestowed.

Maybe not.

E minor to spice things up. Let us go on a ride to space.

You shuffle amongst the stars. They burn so radiantly, like how all
good stars do, for us. You flush with the envy of success, wondering

the intensity of enduring pain they mask to feed the fire.

The molten stomachs that do not churn in the face of fear.

The evaporated veins that do not bleed emotions
but empty promises once made by self to self, aged twelve.

The crumbled bones, shrapnel from war, with nothing left to break,
leaves no trails of cracks.

Yet, a 7^th, you flush in the vacuum you stand, for the vacuum they are within.

You crave for the constellations, trophies of achievements displayed
in the palm of your hands, bright red and searing.
Your artist speaks for yourself.

You drink through your windows, savoring each sip,
never letting cherry lips taste a drop of iced gold.
Your masterpiece of failures built on failure speaks for you.

See, you feel. Feel, you hurt. Breathe, you live.

The ticking at the corner has no meaning to the girl dying inside.

Time stops only for the poor unfortunates to cherish regrets.

Hear, the critics, yourself, muted, so loudly.

Guts twisting to the scribbles pending pen.

Embrace the moon, reflection of your light, as time pauses.

Stars too brilliant implode to massive darkness.

Hold on to yourself, do not get lost in the cadence.

D major.

The stage speaks

The stage speaks
Silence. Listen to the stars. They shine
so bright under the light. Look at her.
Admire her grace as she
maneuvers the riffs
and the slides
and the turns
and the
steps.
See how she manipulates
your body.
Your eyes start to close
and
your muscles
tense.

Silence.

The seats roar
with fervor. The hall stands
and lifts her up higher into the stars.
The circle cheers. The bottom pleads for more,

She hums a tune ever so familiar to keep them
longing. You see, she makes music with her mind.
Her hands dances and her mouth sings but it is your heart that plays along
ever so sweetly, ever so exclusively in a frequency
only both of you register.

Unrequited love

My heart has been confusing lately, which is, honestly, at a super inconvenient time since my finals are just around the corner.

Thinking of you
Checking my phone again,
again. Still no notifications.
Checking my phone again.

Open up Facebook on my browser and
I see no reds on the top right.
Close it. Time to do work. Open up
Microsoft. Type in the header of my essay.
Open up Facebook on my browser.

Do you think of me as much as I do of you?
Of course not. You are amazing, but so is she.
She is kind and caring and broken just for you.
You love her and I... I think of you.

Your hands are magic; the way they move -
dynamic. The music you produce, the music
you command, you capture the heart of
songs and songbirds alike, your voice
resonates the world and makes it
pause

for a minum.
You sang for me once. The keys engraved in my soul.
I still feel the trills and they bring me gliss.
I can't believe it.
I don't believe it.
I cannot believe it.

You are like a work of art; so abstract.
Your heart beats to the rhythm of a dance.
Your alluring eyes amazes me every time -
seamlessly symmetrical like periodic alliteration in a poem.
Your smile, your comforting smile,
bends like the smirk of a quaver rest.
Your clef, sexy as always, tugs on
the bold hard strings of my stave.
Sharps and flats everywhere.

But you are hers and I am not yours.
Those lips belong to her.
Those hugs belong to her.
You belong to her and I am behind the
lens of this happy moment captured indefinitely.

Let me check Facebook one more time.
Do you think of me as much as I do of you?
Of course not. Your dream is her.


On another note, here is my newest composition for SATB: When I Was Your Man



Also, this is one of the better guitar playing I've done in the past year that i've been trying to learn. Please excuse all the mistakes everywhere. :x
La La La (with guitar)