Writing 201: Ode

Prompt: Drawer

Form: Ode

Device: Apostrophe


This Ode is for those who have been there for us. The ones who helped us unlock our fears, in order to face them with great courage. Not many can unlock your true feelings, let alone help you overcome them.


The various hands covered my dues,

and the tunes that rejoiced in times of woes,

Valiant choice! Thee, who triumphed my wars!

Amid the choice of not to be!


 The stupor of my fragile state,

saved in warm, gathered by one muse,

I attest thee presence on celestial grounds.

Ah, joy! Oh, relief! You are near!


All doubts disappeared,

thee gentle hummingbird.

How thee interfered? Through the shadows,

through the grey, into the heavens you took me.


Majestic trust on hopeful horizon!

the rays peeked with shining glitter,

and I was whole, and eternal,

as thee walked me along the shore.


Writing 201: Prose Poetry

Prompt: Fingers

Form: Prose Poetry

Device: Assonance


This prose poem talks about heartache. I did not use ‘fingers’ literally, but as a metaphor by using words such as, ‘ Point’.


Clap, and Waken

Radiant! Clap, or tap, my dear! I hear, in proximity to here. Why abandon my closure, but clothe my emotions? I listened for your words full of detritus. May I set free the flames for thee? I must point that they agree. The cloudless days are approaching, and the frozen slate – on the surface of your heart – it averts your true feelings; of fear, of love, of uncertainty. Be you – you decide – with me or without. You be who you were, or for whom I glistened my heart with sad tears. Point towards what should be true, persevere like on a quest for survival. Then, I clap and I am aware, of such probability.


Writing 201: Ballad

Prompt: Hero (ine)

Form: Ballad

Device: anaphora/epistrophe


My hero (ine) in this poem is ourselves. I hope you agree with me that our lives are full of ballads; with and/or without tragedy. It’s different for all of us. If we think about it, any change good or bad will transform us. Will we like it? Not always. I will let you think about this for a moment. Next time you’re in the shower –hopefully soon, but hey, I’m not going to judge your habits – bend your arm and place it under the flowing water. What can you see? Some droplets will stay and some will wash away. It will be different each time, but you will still be yourself.

To hold, to be

Tell me what it’s like to stroll, on sandy terrains

knowing what is to be,

evading crumbs left by transgressors,

assuring yourself of who you are, in the rains.


To hold your hands, and shut unwanted marks

To explain known destiny 

securing your soul of untamed remarks

a plan duly thought of in time.


Tell me they can’t dent your heart

you have come this far

in times you have stopped to restart

and analysed your fractious path.


To hold your journey, it takes courage;

and the malaise rhythm parts you

To hide your sorrows, you breach your memories

and find who you thought you knew


Tell me you will hold your hands again

you will go far, without delusion,

thus time will favour your set plan

and set you free from seclusion.


Writing 201: Fog

Prompt: Fog

Form: Elegy

Device: Metaphor

I let the words flow as they came out of my fingers. I kept in mind the use of Fog as the theme, while using Elegy as the form for the poem. I just kept going without paying attention to the metaphors. However, I will revise this poem, add metaphors, and later compare the two.


Enough, denial in blur! What it gives, what it gains,

mislaying inner growl, 

as one once romped through hopeful grove.

While its maladroit sensitivity 

transforms in recurring vanity.

It shows in semblance of pity

do not reject, pretty


As one’s soul convulsions to a defeat

until recovering without a presence

corroding veins fueled with anger.

In the shadows, it lurks without patience

not gracing the chants of one’s visions

Where am I? At my destination

without border,

and continuity of such efforts.


Writing 201: Animal

Animal: Penguin

Form: Concrete Poetry

Device: enjambment

This poem is about letting your inner animal out in moments of anxiety. The poem is meant to look like a penguin (because, duh, I love penguins :p)



through the territories, until

              he found a small box                              in

the white sands of his favourite

bottle collection.

          here! It’s here!” He shouted.                                                                                   “The key! I finally found

 “It’s                                                                                                                                                                                  it!”

                                                                It  was                                                                   golden, but

                                                          now it’s                                                                          silver

                                             somebody                                                                                      changed it

                                                     they                                                                                           took it

                                            what am I                                                                                           to do

                                     I did not want it                                                                                        but I needed it.

                                My temperature rises                                                                                  my patience decreases

                                    Whoever grabbed it                                                                              has no decency

                                                          “What?”                                                                   “It can’t be”

                                       They are the same type                                                  “Ah! Yes!” They are mine

                                  one for my heart                                                                                       one for my soul

Unknown Squirrel

There he was (or she? Let’s just go with ‘he’), carefully stepping on the fresh coat of snow. The only creature to give signs of life in the never-ending winter. Mr. Squirrel prepared for his journey, across the street. Did he forget where he kept his nuts? Was this a sign that spring was nearby? What was he doing? Why was he there? To cheer me up, I bet. I said it, I’m partial to squirrels.

I glanced through the window on a sunny but extremely cold day – with frost on the frames – and eager to see this creature enjoy his life. He appeared out of nowhere and it caught my attention. He was brown and looked healthy – normal weight for a squirrel I suppose, but I’m not a veterinarian – and I tried to figure out what he was doing. He stopped when he heard cars coming, and he moved a step or two towards the snow cliff in the yard. It was a great moment for a photo, but I didn’t want to disturb him. He was on a mission.

He didn’t get any food from the snow. He stood on the cliff until the cars went by. Suddenly, he made a run for it; he tried to cross the street. “Good luck, little buddy!” I shouted in my mind. I hesitated to go outside and witness first-hand his victory. I almost did, but then he stopped on the edge of the sidewalk. The cars drove by and he went back to the bottom of the cliff in the yard. And then, he ran until his heart raised to maximum (or so it seemed).

A lot of cars drove by and I lost sight of him, but then he triumphantly ran up the snow cliff across the tree, and went up the tree he must have longed for. He made it, and I was happy.


Writing 201: Limerick time!

Theme: Journey

Device: Alliteration

Form: Limerick

I don’t know when was the last time I last wrote a Limerick, so this is a challenge for me. The first one is without alliteration. The second one is with alliteration.


A funny lady when to a farm

there was a spider but no alarm

She screamed a high note

She dug up a mote

She saw it was her hair all along.


Detective directed a dance

carefully chanting cheerful chance

He hissed with his hat

He is a hot ham

Dreaming Detective do not despair.


Writing 201! Poetry time!

I am catching up to Writing 201 as part of Blogging University (seriously, thank you Daily Post!). I am excited to advanced in my Poetry and writing overall.

First assignment: Haiku.

Theme: Water

Device: Simile


Squirrel must swim

like algae washing ashore

through melting winter.


Abundant harvest

nuts as roasted as tanned skin

he is on the side.


Wavy melting snow

is cold like one heartbreaker

in blossoming spring



Poem: Know


I trudge on failed desires

and dig into deeper thoughts

to retrieve some recent wounds

and destroy platonic doubts.


I try to fathom present destiny

as a withdrawn essence

followed by objection

of my own initiative.


Oh, too familiar!

present moment

Was it a dream? 

Am I a dream?