Musings on Keeping Promises

When I was a child,
I asked a grown-up why adults
don't like watching cartoons.

"It's just not as entertaining for us anymore."
She replied.

And from that moment on,
I swore to myself that,
no matter how old I'd get,
I would still watch cartoons.

When I was a child,
I loved eating hard-boiled eggs and noticed
that my tutor didn't like eating them.
So I asked her why.

"I used to like eggs when I was younger,
but I don't like them as much anymore."
She replied.

And from that moment on,
I swore to myself that,
now matter how old I'd get,
I would still like eating hard-boiled eggs.

When I was a child,
I read a poem and noticed
that the writer had spelled the word 'through'
as T-H-R-U.
So I asked my mom why.

"It's poetic license."
My mom replied.

Now, I didn't exactly know
what a poetic license was,
but from that moment on,
I swore to myself that,
no matter what,
I would get a poetic license.
I didn't even care so much if
I'd ever get a driver's license or not,
as long as I'd get a poetic one.

When I was a child,
my dad told me,
"You're not allowed to have a boyfriend
until you're in college."

So from that moment on,
I swore to myself that,
no matter what,
I would wait for the right guy to come along
so I could fall in love with him
and have a love story
as good as my mom and dad's.

If little me were standing
in front of grown-up me right now,
I'd like to think that she'd be pleased
with how I've managed
to keep all those promises
after all these years.

Because I still love watching cartoons
and eating hard-boiled eggs.
And, yes, I do have poetic license.
And I'm still waiting for the right guy to come along
so I could fall in love with him
and have a love story
as good as my mom and dad's.

-Nocturnal Scribe

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None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Teen Pregnancy

They say it's to be expected, that it's the norm.
But I urge you, friends: do not conform.
Let us preserve our self-respect
And keep our integrity intact.

Where is the joy in the diploma you hold
when a fetus is growing inside of your womb?
Where is the pride in marching on stage
when you have a child to support with your minimum wage?
Where is the honor in graduating with honors
when you have a husband that has you encumbered?
Where is the success in all you've achieved
when your tears are wasted on regrets that you grieve?

There are consequences to the choices you make,
so I urge you, friends: be willing to wait.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on a Friend

We have far too many inside jokes
than I can bother to count. To a
passerby's ears, we communicate
in fluent Klingon, spoken with a
heavy Maritess accent. Yoh noh
na. Dat ting, tu fas, lah. Gitopmi.
This may be the closest I've ever
been to someone—and it's probably
because I am sitting next to you.
They say we have our own world.  If we
really did, then it would be filled with
secondhand paperbacks and tolkons,
and the only discomfort one would
feel is a laughter-induced headache.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Rejection

You should have gotten used to this by now.
You share the same name, you share the same fate.
So why should this come as a surprise to
you? You should have expected something like
this to happen again.  Pipe dreams only
bring aching desolation, and tears are
a sign of callowness and frailty.  So
let the wind pass and dry your cheeks because
feigning joy and repressing your sorrow
is the only acceptable response
expected of you.  Walk on by, you who
share the same name and the same fate, and quell
all your expectations and hopes because
you should have gotten used to this by now.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Introversion

Eloquent are your thoughts.
You could spend hours on end
in content solitude
without ever feeling
even the slightest tug
of ennui. Yet those thoughts
of yours rarely translate
well into words.  They seem
to find the confines of
your mind much too pleasant.
Or do you fear judgment?
Whenever you attempt
to voice your ideas,
they scatter in the wind.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Things I Learned this Summer

Though the salty tides may rise and fall,
the beach will never run out of sand.
Though the weather can be insanely
bipolar, the sky is poetry.
Though you may find the view plain, keep in
mind that each landscape has a story
to tell. Give it a chance to tell you.
Though the stars look enchanting tonight,
attempting to count them without a
friend can be depressing and futile.
Though the path may not always be smooth,
walking barefoot is an adventure.
Though the flowers may wither and fade,
God never ceases to amaze me.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on How it Must Feel to be in Love

Love, hasten your footsteps to me
so I may know how it feels to
float on air and be on cloud nine;
so I may know how it feels to
be weak in the knees and to have
butterflies in my stomach; or
have my heart break into a sprint
at the very thought of him, or
blush and stutter in his presence;
so I may at last be able
to declare that all the love songs
finally make sense to me. But
I don't think I'm ready for that.
So hasten not, love. Take your time.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012