I, tyro

Sitting still. Little movements.
Inscribe. Pen. Jot.
The heart is screaming to do that.
Brain, drowning with words
Gullible, seduced by every thought that forms inside.
And then she settled, actors fashioned to her liking.
Parts given. Storyline laid out open.
Motley emotions in hiding and on display.
Unadorned words echo rawness.
And bottled feelings she may be keeping.
Or just unassured perhaps?
And lacking in style?
Anyhow, persist she does
Inscribing. Penning. Jotting.
Short and sweet, chatty authorship
Yearning to steal some smile.

“If you can tell stories, create characters, devise incidents, and have sincerity and passion, it doesn’t matter a damn how you write.”
~ Somerset Maugham

Hello

I’d like to meet you
But I’m a bit meek.
I’d like to know you
But I feel blah.
I’d like to listen to what you’ll going say
But I’m in a tizzy.
I’d like to talk to you
But I’m loss for words.
I’d like to laugh with you
But will you stare? Uneasy I will be.
I’d like to have coffee with you
But my world’s small you might get bored.
I’d like to be grand and know it all
But my simple thoughts proclaimed I’m not.

But lemme tell you,
My name’s Terry and I hope you’ll be pleased to meet me.

Think-piece

 

“All that writers can do is keep trying to say what is deepest in their hearts”. Lloyd Alexander

I am not a writer. I am simply an insignificant individual who happens to love writing stuff, penning poems, playing with words. In writing, you get to share your sentiments, you can tell your pent-up emotions in a subtle way, you can create a world with all sorts of characters in it that you like and detest.

 

When I was little, I would always look at the night sky and wonder how many stars are up there. Or in what part of heaven does the good Lord resides. After an hour or so of staring the great black sky, I would open my imaginary notebook and write some poems using my imaginary pencil. That was, to me, a happy good night.

 

When I reached my adulthood, I still can’t get rid of that pastime. I would still find time to look at the night sky and this time, plan slash think slash desire slash totting up what happened to me the whole day. And unlike before when I was little and using my imaginary things, this time I have my phone with me, typing things that I deemed important to my next 24 hours.

 

Sometimes, I wanted to write those crazy thoughts that pass by in my head… Like, how badly do I like to smash the car of an ex. Or how I wanted to be meanly bad to an associate who keeps invading my private life. Or the sexy-and-not-so-proper-thoughts I have on that guitar player I saw in the bar. Random, crazy thoughts like that.

 

I am not keen on writing weighty topics… well, maybe because I’m thinking I’m not worthy to do so (weird I). Or maybe because I’m afraid to say a handful of politically incorrect things (scaredy-cat me). Or maybe because I know there are a whole lot of cerebral people out there screaming their bright minds out in every corner of the World Wide Web (I envy this bunch!). And so, the always plain, sometimes subnormal but ever optimistic me, would rather write simple stuff that fills my bubble. I am not expecting that my blogs will accord you a big positive vibe or make you smile, but I will be pleased if it does.