The words of a poem pack more than they appear at first. They must be chosen carefully, not overdoing it and not underselling the message either. I wanted to use "explode" in the poem down below but felt that "fracture" was the better choice in this context. Too bad, no bang bang boom then.Read More
I got the pair of socks below as a gift during last year's Christmas party in the office. Who knew they would inspire micro-poetry? And of course, I thought of a character in my novel and it thrilled me. Because pizza!
Hope this titillates you or even just whet your appetite.Read More
Sometimes I find myself writing what seems to be endless drafts of a new writing assignment. When that's the case, I know either the topic lacks some depth or is completely the wrong one to write about. As I worked on my traditional end-of-year reflective blog post this month, I saw four drafts already on my digital notebook but I still felt the task was going nowhere.
The story wound up like this.
Xeno: I have every right to call 2017 my year of victory. After three years toiling for my debut novel I Killed My Friends and It Thrilled Me, it had finally moved from Xenosphere to Internetosphere. I've achieved one of my big dreams and I could call myself successful. On the other hand... blah, blah, blah... lukewarm reception for my indie book... blah, blah, blah... graphic design career that didn't take off... blah, blah, blah... sudden disappearance of someone dear to me... blah, blah, blah... so I'm going to call 2017 my year of humility!
Still, that didn't feel right.Read More
This is a poem that I wrote initially in 2010 and finished in 2011. I held it dear to myself, refusing to share it to anyone. But that was years ago, it will be a grave shame to keep this 'beauty' away from the world.
I wrote this about someone who dealt upon me great pain four years prior to writing this. But time had been a great healer, and so with it came maturity and the ability to look at the bright side instead of the dark. While the rain poured outside the vehicle during my daily commute to work, I found myself recalling the events related to this someone. Feeling pain was inevitable but healing was a choice, and I made the right choice.
I'm against explaining the meaning behind my poems and short stories but I felt I should give this one a pass. The wonderful thing about art is that it can be interpreted differently. I can be moved to tears by something while someone else gets offended by it. Someone can declare something as the most beautiful piece of art to ever exist on this earth while I just easily dismiss it. So for you readers, whatever you can take from this is your privilege. Thank you for reading.Read More