Quiet seas and poisoned air
Across a distant love affair.
It tastes so sweet, so divine,
A miracle that can’t be mine.
You calm the storm inside my mind,
You hold together what’s left behind.
Feel my hand on your beating heart,
Know nothing can keep us apart.
If the world was a clock,
I’d take its hands and turn them back
And watch it start again.
I’d walk with shadows long past,
Recognizing immortal faces,
The souls of time immemorial.
I’d wake to a beautiful light,
The kind of shine that burns so bright,
A glorious fire that never dies.
I’d find the meaning of this life,
Find a deeper sense of being.
I’d escape a life that’s bleak and empty,
A shallow pond in an ocean of tears.
Photo from Pexels
I know this is far from what I’ve been posting here, but since I’m new to the blogging scene, I think a little intrduction seems best.
My name is Bianca Marie Nery from the Philippines. Growing up, I’ve always been misunderstood by my peers. I would prefer quiet corners to rough play and books to teen magazines. Even as a child, I wanted to put words to everything I felt. It was only until later that I learned how.
Being what I was, I spent most of my pre-teens in a state of depression. I even entertained thoughts of suicide, though I never acted on them. Then, one day, my high school English teacher gave us an assignment, which was to write a poem. I can’t remember what it was I wrote, and I probably threw it away a long time ago, but that was when I got the idea to start writing my own poetry.
Why?” was the very first I wrote during what I would call my “experimental days”, as I was still trying to find my own style. I took to reading works from Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, and Emily Brontë, as books with their works were what I had easy access to. Everything followed from there.
Because of this I was able to give a voice to everything I kept bottled up inside. I found something to keep me grounded. Especially now, with COVID-19 and everything else going on, this has become my little bubble of relief from all the stress I’ve been feeling. Writing is and will always be my passion and my comfort.
I know I’ve only been here a short time, but I am grateful for everyone who liked my work and followed my blog. There aren’t that many right now but I still appreciate every one of you. Much love for everyone out there. Stay safe.
Maybe the winds changed again
And blew the sands of time
Back across the seas
To repeat the ages past
Before the sun lit the shadows.
Maybe dreams bled into a reality
That no one wished to see
But nonetheless came to be
And bore the tide of madness
That’s gripped the crust of our domain.
One could choose to face
The dark and dreary face of life,
But I would rather watch the sun break through
The clouds as gray as day
And know that light still exists.
If, for a moment,
time could choose to rest,
I’d find a space for atonement
to fill the crack in my chest
If, for a minute,
the Earth has ceased to turn,
God could reach within it
and heal the land that burned
If, in the time spent,
things could begin again,
with neither pain nor resentment
towards our own brethren,
then life would be life once again,
a life close to the Heaven
we’ve longed to see.
This was the very first poem I have ever written. I admit this isn’t one of my best works, but being as it is, I guess it would be worth sharing, considering this is what started it all. Basically, it’s about some schoolgirl crush I had in high school. Sounds cheesy, I know. Okay, here it is:
Why did you enter my life
at the same time he did?
Why is it that your face
clouds all that I feel for him?
Why do I catch my breath
every time you look at me?
Why does your name echo in my mind
more than his ever does?
Why are you more important
to me than he is?
Why do I always think of you
whenever you’re not around?
How could you affect me so? —
You’re just a mere boy
who I’ve known for a short time
How could someone like you
bring me into such a confusion?
Who are you then?
And why are you making me feel this way?
A thousand lines, a heart that breaks,
fissures upon the polished glass.
The love that seeps, it gushes red,
bleeding wounds that forever last.
It sweetly sings a troubled song,
a symphony of melodic woe.
It breathes a sigh, one forlorn,
treacherous Love its eternal foe.