Monthly Archives: April 2014

Daily Prompt: He’s (She’s) So Fine

I love him for
His wisdom and strength
His maturity and sense
His quiet countenance

The ways he sees beyond
What the naked eye tells
The calmness that prevails
Amidst stormy spells

I love him for
The way he loves me, not
Spectacular nor flamboyant
Just pure, simple and free.

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The Bad Lettuce

Momma Rabbit went to her refrigerator. She wanted to cook a splendid dinner for the family. “Let’s see. I’ve a bunch of carrots, a head of lettuce and some grass hay. A fine dinner we’ll have today!” Momma Rabbit was pleased. She began cutting up the greens, thinking of the lovely dinner she was going to make.

Baby Rabbit came into the kitchen to see what Momma Rabbit was doing. “Shall I help you cut up the carrots, Momma?” Baby Rabbit asked. “Oh what a dear you are! Why don’t you sit by me and keep me company instead?” Momma Rabbit said. And so, Baby Rabbit sat and watched her mother busy herself around the kitchen.

When Momma Rabbit sliced through the lettuce, she had a horrid surprise. It was rotten at the core though it looked delightful outside! “Dearie me, how terribly unfortunate. To think it looked so pretty, but was rotten all along.” Momma Rabbit sighed. “Well I suppose I could use the good leaves and throw out the bad bits. Thank goodness some of it’s still alright else it would be such a pity.”

“But Momma, can’t we tell if it’s not good? I hate it when things turn out bad,” sniffed Baby Rabbit.

“Sadly we can’t. It’s all a matter of luck. When we get the good ones, we must be thankful. When we do get bad ones, we have two choices. We could save it if it wasn’t too bad. But if it was, we must not eat it because it will be bad for us.”

“We could use it to grow other greens instead! It could still be good for us,” Baby Rabbit squealed. “Yes we could,” Momma Rabbit smiled. “So nothing is really that bad in the end.”

Momma Rabbit and Baby Rabbit smiled at each other. It was a splendid dinner after all I’ll bet.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: On Top

I would post pictures from heights of dizzying landscapes from my travel collections but my neurotic brain adamantly plastered an alternative take on this prompt and refused to let go.

In my wildest imagination I would answer this prompt myself. Since I have neither the figure nor a willing photography partner, it will have to be borrowed. Pun on prompt intended for those who recognize the models.

At least, my imagination is mine, and my words are true.

Your breath descends, a
Sweet invitation teasing –
I reach out, enthralled.


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(Picture credits: W Magazine)

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Daily Prompt: Junk Food Junkie

The most irresistible
Junk that makes everything
Alright has got to be
Sticky chewy chocolaty
Hot-baked brownies
Or sweetly sweet apple pies
Accompanied with
Smooth and creamy ice-cream
Raspberry vanilla or taro and
Succulent chunks of tropical fruit.
Unhealthy? Oh…
But they all came from fruit and plants
And other healthful sources
So I guess reasons suffice? 😛

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(Picture: Apple crumble with ice-cream and apple chunks doused with caramel sauce)

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Daily Prompt: Can’t Get it Out of My Head

One day at the hairdresser’s
Their music was blasting
A catchy kpop tune, that
Caught my ear

Checking it out on youtube led
Me to another
The first voice I heard
Made my goosebumps appear

It was hypnotic, it was cool
And it got me hooked
Now I’m stuck with this
Earworm, I guess for good.

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Daily Prompt: Why Can’t We Be Friends?

I would start with
A big smile and eye contact
Say a bright hi
And shake hands at that

Break the ice by
Introducing myself
Tell abit ’bout what I do
Make a few jokes as well

When my companions are
More at ease, I would invite
Them to participate in
Conversation banters delight

Before they know it
We’d soon be acquainted
Exchanged whatsapps and twitters
No longer introverts.

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Weekly Writing Challenge: Fifty

So the other day this person talked about how one could eat whatever one wanted without having to worry about weight gain or unhealthiness, by daily perpetual ingestion of pricy health products. I took a step back to scrutinise the situation, concluding it made no sense to feed vicious cycles.

 

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(I Hate This) Love Song – part two

Making my way through the last of the dispersing crowd, I went towards the stage. The crew was beginning to take everything down. Scanning the area frantically, a sinking feeling hit my gut as I realized he had probably left.

As though answering my dismayed thoughts, I heard echoes of his voice. Interspersed with deep laughter and other voices, it was trailing from backstage and fading fast. Without thinking, I sprinted towards its direction. Suddenly I heard a loud crash and my view shifted abruptly downwards, followed by a slam as my left shoulder hit the ground.

My world started to spin as a sharp, searing pain at my ankle made its presence felt, and I began to feel nauseous. I heard voices shouting and the sounds of running footsteps but I could not concentrate on them. There were only two things on my mind – the finality of my lost chance and the excruciating feeling in my leg. I pushed myself up painfully and sat holding my spinning head with my right hand, trying to recover from the nausea of the pain.

From the voices swimming around, I heard someone ask me if I was alright. “I’m sorry… I’m fine… really, just let me… let me make a call… I’m…” Before I could continue, someone knelt at my side and then an arm encircled my waist. That same person took my left arm and draped it around his shoulder.

“Can you stand? Let’s try slowly.”

I stiffened and turned. There he was beside me, and there I was, in a most unglamorous state! Embarrassed, I could not bring myself to look at him but simply nodded and bit my lip. Supporting my weight with his arm, he grasped my left hand tightly against his shoulder, then slowly heaved me up on my good foot. I gasped as the pain threatened to intensify and his grip tightened.

“It’s okay, lean on me. Think you can walk a bit?”

“Yeah… I-I think so…”

I turned to look at him. There was a serious look of concern in the way he regarded me. I forced a weak smile and nodded. Someone offered to help; he shook his head but nodded towards my spilled belongings on the floor.

“We’ll try to get to the dressing room. I’ll go slow. Let me know if it works up.”

It was one of the most arduous journeys I made on foot. Though the dressing room was just a short distance away, every step sent excruciating stabs through my body. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to go on. In the privacy of the dressing room, he helped me into a chair. Then he knelt down and slowly pulled up the cuff of my jeans leg. His expression changed when he saw the swollen, bruised joint and I braced myself for his next question.

“Doesn’t look good. We’ll have to get you a doctor. What were you doing on the stage anyway?”

“I er… I uh… I heard you guys leaving and um, I needed… I wanted to speak… er… I wanted to speak to you.”

“To me? What about?”

I was stumped. Who was I to assume he wasn’t the person he was portraying on stage in real life? He’d think I was cracked up. “I… er… I wanted an autograph,” I stammered lamely, feeling utterly foolish.

“What would you like me to sign on?”

“I uh… I er… forgot to um, bring it.”

He laughed, a reverberating deep-chest chuckle that made me flush at the silliness of what I had just uttered. Then he stood up and pulled out a slim leather case from his back pocket. Flipping it open, he rummaged through and drew out a slip of paper. He scribbled something on it, then with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, placed the slip of paper in my hand and said, “It says ‘recover soon and all the best’. And that’s my signature below it.” Just as the exhilaration of getting his autograph kicked in, someone came in to say the ambulance had arrived.

He nodded, then turned to me and said, “The ambulance is here, but I can’t stay. They’re waiting for me outside.” I nodded. “You better go. I’m sorry about this and thanks for the autograph! Real swell, no pun intended!” He smiled at my effort to lighten the situation, then hesitated. Then, he took the slip of paper from my fingers and scribbled something on it again before returning it to me.

“Look, I’m not supposed to do this but I’m partly responsible for your injury. Would you drop me a message about how it goes? As for your hospital b- “

“That’s okay, I’ve got that. I’ll pop you a message about the ankle though.”

He paused, then added, “That number belongs to my manager, but he’ll pass me the message. Not that I don’t trust you but- “

“Yep, no worries. Even I don’t give my number to just anyone I meet, what more an artiste like you.”

He grinned, and again, that twinkle in his eyes.

“Well then, I’m off.”

“Thanks and sorry again. Hope you guys come back soon to perform again.”

“We’ll try. Thank you for your support.”

As the paramedics and their stretchers came in, I watched him give them an acknowledging nod before he left the room, while my senses were still in an amazed stupor over what had just happened.

 

– End of part two –

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(I Hate This) Love Song – part one

I have been getting quite a bit of inspirational snippets for a new short story recently, and they wouldn’t relent till I put them down in text. Since the muses have forced me up from bed today at really unearthly hours, here is part one:

 

The standard welcoming message rang out within the confines of the vessel, jolting me back to reality from my blank thoughts. I slung my satchel across and stood up carefully. It leaned against me while I adjusted my shirt and brushed the creases on my shorts. Running my fingers through my hair, I turned on my phone. Soon, the first passengers shuffled out the exit, and I too joined them.

I was nervous, yet a strange sense of calm prevailed in my mind. It was as though it had all been planned – the route I’d take, the journey I’d make. Perhaps it was so, from the first time I heard his voice. Presenting my travel documents at the counter, I could hear the radioed announcements, the never-ending rhythms of people moving, walking, running and the loud, happy chatter of other tourists. Should I be feeling happy too? I wasn’t sure.

Unbelievable resonance.

That was the first thought that came to my mind. I could feel my hair stand on my arms and neck and the thrill down my spine as he continued his repertoire on the stage with his band mates. It was the first time I paid attention to them, and the first time I heard that song.

It was the first time I heard him.

And how his voice penetrated the depths of my soul. It was deep as the sea, yet unpretentiously gentle as the morning sun. It killed as instantly as it revived. And there he stood, unaware of it all, a faint smile curled around his lips as he wiped across his brow with the back of a checkered sleeve while the crowd screamed for more.

He was confident and he had swag, yet somehow, there was an untouchable core – carefully concealed, recoiled and brooding. A strange surge of emotion rushed through my veins and I stopped for a moment to ponder what it was, then quickly brushed it aside. I had to speak with him.

He was sitting a distance away, in the second seat of a front row of conjoined plastic chairs, dressed in fitted indigo denim, a simple grey tee and a tailored black suede jacket. Bent forward at a slight angle, he was staring into the distance from behind his sunglasses as he sat clasping his phone in both hands. I walked up and seated myself abruptly beside him. Hastily he straightened himself and glanced over, then broke into a faint smile and removed his sunglasses.

“You’re here. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t need to. Already spotted your hair.”

“Haha… it’s that bad huh.”

“Nah, it’s fine. So let’s get out of here. I’m famished!”

 

– End of part one –

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