Four- Part 3

Well, what do I have to say. I remembered!
Part 1 here
Part 2 here

I was only four
When he kicked down the door.
Murdered my mother so casually,
And turned to chase after me.
I don’t have an explanation why
He wanted to kill my mother and I.
Because I was only at the childish, naïve age of four.

I wrote this because I found how fun it was to rhyme ‘four’ with ‘door’, and halfway into something, I thought of, ‘I was only four, when he kicked down the door’. So then I expanded it, and voila, poem! (Yay for actually finishing it!)


Four- Part 2

I remembered! Here’s the second bit of the poem. (There’s still a third, tiny bit. The first part is here.)

I was only four,
When I had to act like I was more.
With a wicked, menacing grin,
He committed yet another sin.
He shot my mother dead,
While he laughed off his head.
I ran, disgusted, afraid, terrified,
Helpless, confused, horrified.
It wasn’t long, before he caught up,
As I struggled, thrashing like an impotent pup.
The cold metal touched my ear;
The bullet loading, the only sound I could hear,
There was a whoosh of a bullet flying towards my brain,
But… I felt no pain.

Also, happy Valentine’s Day! I spent it with someone special. ;) How about you? :)


Everything Takes Time

And I hate how everything takes time.

So we’ve finished writing the book, yes? Now, I just want to skip through all the editing and fast forward to the day I’ll be sitting in the car, looking out the window at the lovely city, with butterflies in my stomach, as we drive to the destination of the meeting for the book publishing. I’m just focusing on that one, exhilarating moment, before the reality of it comes crashing down, raining with legal documents and terms and agreements and copyrights. Basically, before reality crushes my fantasies.

I hate, hate, HATE how you have to wait for everything. Unreasonable example: waiting to find out about your crush’s flaws and drawbacks. (Is that even an appropriate word?) My example (Heads up, I’m a really shallow and fame hungry person. Oops.): I can’t wait until I’m half famous on the internet by blogging.

Which brings me to something not so personal. My best friend knows this, though. I started blogging on WordPress because I wanted to be well known on the internet. – Tells audience how my senior has a lot of followers on Twitter, my friend’s older sister is a famous fashion blogger, and another senior I know is a singing sensation on YouTube- I think having a lot of people liking me will improve my self esteem. (Yay.) And it’ll be easier to publicise when my best friend and I finally publish our book! I mean, would you actually give a second glance at some random little girl squealing and squawking, encouraging you to buy her own book? No. That’s why when I grow up to be a writer, it’ll be a lot easier. You guys (who are reading this. There aren’t many of you, though. – sob sob -) would trust me after knowing me better, yeah?

But the thing about starting a blog and posting up things to pursue your dreams is that you can only limit yourself to a tiny bit, because once you put it on the Web, anyone can take it an reuse it. If you put a lot up (I think I’ve already written a bit about this) you won’t have anything left to write and publish.


– Looks at blog stats and sees a desert with not even a single ball of tumbleweed –


  In the meantime, enjoy this snippet of a poem which I will post the rest on here later. (AKA tomorrow/ day after.) (P.S. I actually like rhyming things, because if I don’t rhyme my poems, they automatically show up as stories in my mind. And so I have to rhyme them to categorise them as poems. I am a funny, funny person.I was only four,

When he kicked down the door.
Gone was the happy face,
His kind eyes replaced with malice.
In one hand was a gun,
Which to him, seemed a lot of fun.
He started playing with it,
Going into a mad fit,
While Momma told me to dash,
Before this got more rash.
Her eyes, I remember,
Were full of fear and terror,
Her face turned into a shocked mask,
And I could only help by completing my task.

  Have fun waiting! ;)


Double Meanings

I love appreciate think writers who can worship writers who can do double meanings. (See what I just did there.) Isn’t it really hard to be able to write something and for it to mean two things? It’s like choices and choosing the wrong one could just get you nowhere. Maybe it’s just me, because I’m just a beginner, but I think it’d be hard.

Firstly, just getting something to write about and being able to take it two ways would be hard. It’s not really like a metaphor, though. A metaphor is taking something else to represent something. (I’m really bad at explaining things.) What I think I’m trying to say is that hiding another meaning in a sentence. Like… “The curtains are blue.” It could mean the writer is depressed, because of the ‘blue’. Or, it could mean that the curtains are freaking blue and the author used blue curtains because she thinks the colour blue is calming.

Two days ago, I wrote about Polkadogs (I’m aware this isn’t a real word) and ended the short story quite weirdly, and I think only a handful of people (I haven’t taken it into fact that only a handful of people will be reading) will get the double meaning. Actually, if you don’t get the second meaning, there won’t be an actual meaning to the story, unless you take it at face value and consider the things that happened an actual story. I think I’m confusing you guys.

On another note, thank you to Jodette P (but damnit, what is her last name?) for nominating me for The One Lovely Blog Award! :)



So, like all writers, recently, l’ve been both procrastinating and writing. Oh, interesting incident- you know the ice cream post below? Originally, for ‘scoops’, I wrote ‘balls’. (So it was balls of ice cream. Let me use the strikethrough option to demonstrate and poke fun at myself: balls scoops of ice cream.)

Back to the topic of the post. I’ve been writing, and I realised that I’ve been writing mostly personification since the 13th. IT’S THE START OF A NEW WRITING STYLE ERA. (Hence the title ‘Genesis’. At least, I think that’s what the word is used for.)

And on the topic of my writing… I have a list of prompts (like my friend), but I’m too lazy to work on them (like my friend). Instead, I write the new ideas out (unlike my friend). I’ll throw in a random fact about me, too. You know when people go visit other countries, they collect postcards or coins or stamps (I actually do two of them)? Well, I want to go to different parts of the world and write there, from the inspiration or the ideas I just suddenly get when I’m there. Or, I could just get out of the building and go to a cosy (I WANT TO SPELL IT AS COZY.) place with some kind of authentic cuisine (and wifi for distractions) and just pour out words.

My tweet of the day: I salute the two oranges who mated and gave birth to the mandarin. Because seriously. Mandarins are just tiny oranges.


The City That Never Sleeps

The City that Never Sleeps


Here in the city that never sleeps,
the helpful lights are always aglow,
the shores always welcoming,
the traffic always rushing on the street.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the streetlights are always twinkling,
the waves always crashing,
the skyscrapers always bright.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the winds are always whistling,
the people always bustling,
the city always colourful.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the tunnels are always crammed with cars,
the streets always jammed with people,
the sky always occupied by thousands of planes.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the noise is intense and loud,
the houses are filled with voices of different ages,
the attractions buzzing with people.

Whether it’s day or night,
chaotic or tranquil,
breezy or lifeless,
you’ll definitely find your place,
here in the city that never sleeps.


Here in the city that never sleeps,
the lights are never fully turned off,
the noise never fully suppressed,
the liveliness never really gone.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the taxis zip past late at night,
the motors make that familiar, nostalgic sound,
interrupting the silence of the night.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the buildings dance at night,
joyous, carefree and lively,
to the song of bypassing vehicles.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the stars are always here to welcome you,
when you arrive in the hours of darkness,
they’ll always be smiling down on you.

Here in the city that never sleeps,
the trees are always awake,
swaying in harmony with the winds,
the pleasant, cooling winds.

So join the night party,
with the insomniacs,
the buildings, the lights,
the winds, the stars, the trees,
here in the city that never sleeps.

So how was the first post? Feedback please! I hope it’s all right… I wrote it more than a month ago and left it alone. I read through it just once, because I was too lazy to correct it. And from the poem, I think you might be able to guess where I live. I really do love the lights here. Anyway, leave a comment, okay? :D See y’all later! :)