M is for Minute Poetry

The Minute Poem is rhyming verse form consisting of 12 lines of 60 syllables written in strict iambic meter. The poem is formatted into 3 stanzas of 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4; 8,4,4,4 syllables. The rhyme scheme is as follows: aabb, ccdd, eeff

200_s

MOMENT
I live one moment at a time
with you life chimes
time is precious
you’re my bonus

to be with you every moment
my own gallant
wish there’s no end
lover and friend

moment’s a time of excellence
of acceptance
of our weakness
of faith and us

(c) ladyleemanila 2016

M

For: happy half-way point in NaPoWriMo and Mid-way through the #atozchallenge!

Just Jot It January 14th – Motivation

images

We make our way back to her beginnings
With her luggage she asked for our blessings
Off she goes to places no one knows
Even if she freezes, as long as she grows
Curiosity is a useful gift and keeping her go
She has to start as early as the cockcrow
She knows she can’t just stand still
It’s a drill she does with all our goodwill
Keep going forward to reach some place
She even goes to retrace her birthplace
Motivation is a very significant factor
She knows what to do, she’s not a bragger
And determination to succeed, she adds
Like one of the wanderers or nomads

For: Just Jot It January 14th – Motivation

jjj-2016

Objects in a Box #3

For today’s prompt, I suggest a fictional story—however long or short you wish it to be—that starts with the following paragraph:

Going through the contents of my mother’s safety deposit box is a journey a child rarely, if ever, gets to take through a parent’s mind. Here she put the things she thought important and precious, neatly laid out in one, little metal box. A “strong” box, as they used to call it, tucked away in a bank vault behind multiple doors with multiple locks, combinations and passport codes, all requiring three people with three matching keys, and none of it accessible until I proffer three official forms of identification to prove I’m me. People protect the tender secrets of their hearts with less embattlements.

safety-deposit-box

My first poem with my handwriting; big brother’s first pair of shoes, size 23; little sister’s tiny socks, our hair when she first cut them, our medals and ribbons, even though some of them were just for the 10th place, old passports, photographs and some other documents. Oh mother, I miss you so, your soft voice which could be loud when you wanted us to get them right, the way you brushed and braided our hair before going to school, and no matter what, you were on our side. Whatever I do, I could hear your advice that I could do it, that I am strong and that I won’t be given something I couldn’t handle. Rest in peace now, our beautiful mother.

For: Objects in a Box #3 by the Blog Propellant

Prompt Stomp- Week 10 – Vintage

Photographs and memories
Of many moons ago
When ancestors were still here
Telling us stories of what they had
Of histories and struggles
Of freedom and hope
My parents when they were 18
Young love, of faiths and dreams
Our family on our grandparents’ day
Celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary
With all the children and grandchildren
A photo with my siblings and our Mom
The youngest not even born yet
And me when I was five, as a queen
One dancing the Hawaiian dance
And one with my Dad pinning my medal

The Captain and the Teacher. He was a Captain of the Ship from a Spanish lineage. Tall, dark and handsome, he always had a pipe on his mouth. She was a short, native Filipina, with big brown eyes, flat nose, and long wavy hair. She was one of the first teachers graduated under the Americans. They met, fell in love and got married. They had many children, my mother being the second to the youngest. They called each other “dear” until the end of their lives. He loved reading; he wrote the meaning of some words at the side of the books he read. She was a good business woman, bought some cloth materials in Quezon and sold them in Marinduque. He died of Parkinson’s disease; she followed after 6 months, perhaps from a broken heart… My grandparents’ story.

Was it love at first sight? Their eyes met at the lobby of the university, both 18. He, a poor but intelligent man whose father died when he was young. She, was born with a silver spoon on her mouth, came from a rich family. Against all odds, they fell in love. She was moved to another college, he pursued her. On her graduation, they eloped. They had two children. Then he erred, she ran back to her parents with her children. He asked for forgiveness, she forgave him. It was a struggle, working and studying at the same time and with family. But he stumbled again. Again and again, she was being hurt over and over again. Until the time came when they have to be apart, and then he passed away. It broke her heart…. My parents’ story.

For: Prompt Stomp- Week 10

Remembering Mondays Finish the Story

mondays-finish-the-story

Hello everyone! Just like Nortina and the others, I miss Barbara Beacham and her Mondays Finish the Story prompts. In memory of Barbara, I’m also sharing two of my favourite stories from the challenge. Be Well, everyone!

My Mom and I

2015-04-27-bw-beacham

Finish the story begins with: “Are you laughing at me?“

There she was, my mother, still with humour while smelling the orchids I gave her.

“Yes, Mom, it was funny. For the sake of vanity, you broke your wrist.” And we laughed again.

I have just arrived three hours ago from Germany. I was looking forward to this holiday. Everything was planned and booked. The manicurist arrived and we were going to have our nails painted. My Mom went to her room, looking for her favourite nail polish. It was on top of her wardrobe, so she climbed on the chair to get it.

We heard her shout and found her slumped on the floor. We took her to the hospital, they x-rayed her left wrist and found that it was broken into pieces. They have re-aligned it and put a fibre glass cast. So, the first two days of my holiday were spent in the hospital. We laughed together.
(150 words)

IMGP0786

 

 

Sorry!

2015-03-16-bw-beacham

Finish the story begins with: “A body suddenly crashed through a plate glass window at the Brigadier’s house.”

The Brigadier, his wife and their guests came to inspect what caused the crashed.

One of the SWAT teams was removing some broken glass from his uniform. Men in their black uniforms and weapons entered through the window. They shouted: “Don’t move. Put your hands up. We meant no harm. We just want Brigadier Delos Santos.”

“I’m Brigadier Santos, what do you want?” the tall man said.

“We’re arresting you for embezzling some companies,” said the Captain.

“You utter fools, you got the wrong Brigadier. I’m Brigadier Santos, Brigadier Delos Santos lives on the next hill!”

“So sorry, Sir, we’ll blame the Intelligence for this. We’ll pay for the damage.” They left very apologetic.

 

For: Remembering Mondays Finish the Story

Fright Night – Daily Prompt

What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

light3

To be out in the dark on my own…
It was a gloomy fright night
Dark, terrifying, mysterious of a night
Zombies abound with their gruesome faces
A cackle from the witch as the moon disappeared
Eerie feeling as the tombstones growled and opened
And they all started waking up and wandering about
The eve of the Halloween and that was what I was scared of

For: Fright Night

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou – Nurt Thurs

11

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

For: Nurturing Thursday

Mountaintops and Valleys – Daily Prompt

Describe a time when you quickly switched from feeling at the top of the world to sinking all the way down (or vice versa). Did you learn anything about yourself in the process?

Thank you for suggesting this prompt, rollingblogger!

tenerife 014

We met, we kissed and we made promises
We were on top of the world
No one could reach us
Like being with the stars
Or the seventh heaven
On top of the highest mountain
Ah, that was heaven!
But then out of the blue
You were gone and left me alone
I didn’t want to carry on
Like there was no air to breathe
No sunshine, no breeze, nothing
It went on like that until I realised
I’ve got to live, I’ve got to move on
Slowly, with the help of time, I’m me again
I’m strong, I could do it and you don’t deserve me

For: Mountaintops and Valleys

My Child Wafts Peace by Yehuda Amichai – Nurturing Thursday

HRH the son

My child wafts peace.
When I lean over him,
It is not just the smell of soap.

All the people were children wafting peace.
(And in the whole land, not even one
Millstone remained that still turned).

Oh, the land torn like clothes
That can’t be mended.
Hard, lonely fathers even in the cave of the Makhpela*
Childless silence.

My child wafts peace.
His mother’s womb promised him
What God cannot
Promise us.

* The traditional burial place in Hebron of Abraham
and the other Patriarchs and Matriarchs of Israel.

For: Nurturing Thursday