Have a hug

Or maybe two or three

A short hug, a long hug,

A back hug, a side hug,

Get one from Jack

Or Jill or me

Actually, you can get one from

Pretty much anybody

It comes with the price of your own embrace

But what you get back nothing could ever replace.

Haha, I know this one’s late, sorry ’bout that. Don’t get me wrong, I did work on it on time (what’s that? You don’t believe me?). I just never finished until just a few minutes ago, ’cause I was out skating with my friends. Honestly, I missed the ice, and it was nice to get back to it. But maybe I’ll write about that in another post. Anyway, so for Day 10, we were required to write a poem for an ad. I didn’t want to do any particular product (I was tempted to do one from Nestlé, since it’s pretty much my bread and butter, but I decided against it), so I decided to go for something I know should have WAY more press time – hugs. I’m not the most touchy type out there, but I don’t underestimate the power of a good hug. When all the world seems lost and saying everything’s going to be okay sounds like a lie, a hug can fix things we often didn’t think could be fixed, or even needed fixing. So yeah. FRIGGIN’ HUG SOMEONE TODAY, PEOPLE! 😀


Day 9 – The Girl and The Wanderer

For today’s challenge, we were asked to write a poem using the titles of five songs from a playlist on shuffle. Included below are the songs I used.


You were already half-way out the door

You look back, wink, tell me to get down, get down,

Rest my head back on the pillow like it’s all a dream

I follow your lead, trusting you that this was a nightmare

And you’d still be there in the morning


You didn’t even tell me you were moving out


Now each time airplanes pass overhead

They cast a shadow that feels as cold

And taints everything as gray

As you made that summer morn


I thought I saw your light, I thought I saw your dark side

I knew I could love it, all of it, I was willing to

I thought you finally understood that

But you didn’t. You didn’t.


I thought you found home

I thought your wandering heart had left

But it had never gone




Never Gone – Colton Dixon

Movin’ Out – Billy Joel

Get Down, Get Down – Joe Simon

Airplanes – B.O.B. ft. Hayley Williams

Dark Side – Kelly Clarkson

Day 8 – Looks Like A Hurricane Passed By…

For today’s prompt, we had to re-write a famous poem and make it our own. So here’s my take on Silverstein’s Messy Room, which I decided to include below.


Whose pad is this? Dang, it’s shameful!

Her towel’s reaching for the floor

Like a dangling bungee-jumper.

An ambitious two-year old to-do list is still taped

To the wall beside the never-made mattress,

Still half-finished.

Wires snake on the laundry-lined wooden floor–

You sure it’s wood?–

Reminiscent of the monster ivies of horror shows

Just waiting for the opportune moment

To curl and pull you down to a blue bruise

You’d soon make origin legends of.

Stacks upon stacks of–

What are these, books, flyers?

All the kinds of crumpled publications in between–

Teeter on uneven tables and maybe-tables.

Dang, you’d think she lives in a friggin’ warehouse,

The kind you see on Storage Wars

Wait, no, more like American Pickers.

This place would give any OC mother a heart attack

I can hear the high-pitched nags already–

“Kim! Clean your room!”

What? Oh, wait.

Well, that explains the cozy feel to this place.


Messy Room

By Shel Silverstein


Whosever room this is should be ashamed!

His underwear is hanging on the lamp.

His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,

And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.

His workbook is wedged in the window,

His sweater’s been thrown on the floor.

His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,

And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.

His books are all jammed in the closet,

His vest has been left in the hall.

A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,

And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!

Donald or Robert or Willie or–

Huh? You say it’s mine? Oh, dear,

I knew it looked familiar!

Day 7 – My Bed

We were supposed to write a love poem addressed to an inanimate object, much to my relief, haha!


You’re not the kind of beautiful

That someone stares at for ages

No, you’re the kind of ravishing

That comes from jumping in and diving

Deep into your depths

As dream brings forth glorious dream


And even when there are no dreams

And instead there are nightmares

And there are demons–flying, circling overhead

Your embrace haloes me from them

Or, if they’re inside me, holds me in spite of them,

And you catch all the tears in between


And even when there is

Neither fantasy nor horror,

When all is still, and quiet, and hushed,

I sleep, vulnerable and peaceful in you

As you wrap forever in a moment,

Nestle its worth in peace in my heart

You carry me and my weight all through the night

And are with me even as the dawn breaks


No, you’re definitely not

The kind of beautiful that you see in magazines

Yours is the beauty of intimacy

Of listening to the nothings chattered

Of never questioning aspirations or

Laughing at logic

Of being trusted with the babblings of the heart

And excited whirs of the mind

I could spend hours with you,

And you would still be there,

Holding me just as closely, just as warm

Day 6 – The Summer Hermit

An example of what it would be like to be a grumpy old curmudgeon living in a condominium unit with a view of the pool.


Palm trees,

Barely a year old,

Hover tall among the sunbathers,

Nearly as bold.

There’s close-cut grass

Browning in the sun–

Still greener than this concrete jungle, though.

Drenched clothes

(That shouldn’t be allowed in the pool!)

Cling translucently tight to their hosts’ forms

As they splosh around in slippery flip-flops,

Leaving wet criss-crossed trails to the rest houses.

A girl’s hitting her head

To get the water out her ears

She’s jumping as she does it–

Looks almost like she’s dancing–Ha!

There’s a boy wiping his face,

Trying to get the water out of his eyes

(As if he’ll ever get the water out of his eyes).

A group of noisy college kids

Grapple with each other

On one of the benches–

The miracle of how they all fit–

To find the position for the perfect group selfie.

The whole bunch of them giggle and scream;

Somehow the couple in the corner stays kissing,


Unlike the constantly splashing water.

It’s summer outside.

I can hear its breeze calling.

I shut the window.

Day 5 – Mother Dearest (Golden Shovel poem)

“Their relationship consisted

In discussing if it existed.”

― Thom Gunn


The woman wondered if their

Teenaged daughter was in a relationship.

The evidence before her consisted

Of nights out with “a friend” in

The city, and hushed phone calls discussing,

Well, whatever made Angela giggle. If

There WAS a boy – she was almost sure of it –

She’d make him wish he never existed.

This Whole Blogging Business

I didn’t think I’d actually enjoy doing this too much because my internet connection is so slow you’d cry. BUCKETS.

However, I’m actually really enjoying this. Aside from the fact that I’m actually getting traffic (do you believe that? It just makes my childish little heart leap for joy), getting my work down somewhere and actually being productive over summer break is fantastic. I may not really know how to manage my blog well just yet, but I’ve actually learned a lot from toggling around all day long. Plus WordPress is actually really user-friendly. Props to them for that. xD

Anyway, I’m enjoying myself so much that I’m planning on joining NaBloPoMo next month (May 2014). I don’t want to stick to the month’s theme though. Since I’m new to this whole blogging thing, I’ll probably just write about whatever I CAN write about. There’ll be essays of sorts, maybe I’ll write poems, perhaps I’ll document day to day life, possibly I’d insert something from my journal, I could even make short stories. Really depends. Maybe when I feel like a more experienced blogger/writer, I’ll take the NaBloPoMo thing more seriously, but for now, I’m willing to just take up the challenge.

In the meantime, I’ll just stick to trying to doll up this blog and my profile. At least until the next NaPoWriMo prompt is up, or random inspiration suddenly strikes.

God bless!