Drawn by ~Pineapple-Snail


You broke my heart,

You crushed my trust,

You took what was mine,

And threw it into a fire,

Stamping on it,

Putting it out,

Like it didn’t matter.

I believed you when you said,

You are our saviour.

I believed you when you said,

You’ll help us.

I believed you when you said,

I’ll save you.


I gave it, to you,


I gave it, without thinking,


You gave it,

In volumes,

Waves at a time,

Torrents of blood,

And a stampede,

Greater than the destruction

Caused by the world shaking.

I hate you,

To the bone,

I hate you,

So much, I turn,

To hate you with a knife,

To cut.

But I won’t cut you,

Not you.

I will cut,

Not my heart

Though it is crushed,

Not my wrist,

From which my people’s life-

Blood flows.

I will turn,

And take my hair,



The people’s symbol,

The symbol of my womanity.

I will grab it tight,

I will pull it to the side,

I will cut it,

Cut it,

With that knife used for meat,


Carving wood.

I will cut my hair,

To save those

I love dearly,

And for my own sake.

I am a phoenix,



Reborn again.

I will not be bound

I will not be “just a woman”

I will become “legend”

In place of you.

The picture above was drawn by my friend, as one of my beloved besties, I got to see the original sketch.  And I got inspired.  Result: the above poem.  She’s an awesome artist, and like me (when I draw) she was planning to add fire to the background, but changed her mind at the last moment because she was scared of destroying it.   In my head though, I see this image with blazing fire.

I Came Across The Sea.

I came across the sea with nothing in my mind,

Except that I would find you.

I didn’t know how,

I didn’t know where,

All I knew you were here,

Where the world was prospering,

And the gold was flowing.

Why didn’t you tell me to come?

Why didn’t you come home?

Why were your letters,


And briefer,

With each passing letter?

Do I know?

I think I know.

I think deep down,

I already felt,

The breaking,



Tie that bound us together.

I think,

I knew,

The day and month,

When I had not received a word,

Or a telegram,

A passing desire,

Or that you’re longing for me,

That you didn’t love me anymore.

I guess you shouldn’t have gone,

I guess I should have come,

Rather than stay in my comfort zone,

Knowing that we were in love,

Knowing that your heart was still mine,

And mine alone.

But it was never mine,

Was it?

I was just someone you married,

For the sake of convenience,

And I can’t even complain,

When you’re with another woman,

That you should love me,

And not her,

Because we both knew,

This is how it was.

And this,

Is how I found you,

Because you are striking,

In that kind of way.

You may have loved me once,

Or thought I was okay,

But now you don’t


Or feel

What you should


If you did feel

One ounce of guilt,

It barely showed

On your face,

To you,

I was just a convenience,

Who shouldn’t have been there at all.

Yet, I opened your door,

At the discretion of the man,

Who’d led me there,

Out of pity,

Most likely.

Out of lust,


Because I know,

I am not hideous to look at,

Nor is my figure not undesirable,

It is just you who can’t look at me,

And love me more than lust.

You let that man guide me,

Right to the door,

Of your betrayal.

I hope you have a good life,

In the arms of that scandalous woman,

When I divorce you,

And take what’s mine,

I hope you have a good life,

Because it’s your name,

That’s ruined now.

Not mine.

I would never be so stupid,

Knowing this would be how it turned out.


I wish,

I had not come across the see,

In search of a man,

Who was supposed to be my husband,

Searching for a fortune,

To add to what we had.

I wish,

I had been stronger,

To marry someone I loved,

And not someone for convenience.



The Book of Tomorrow or Temptation.

Little Snow walked along the dusty road, holding in her hand the Book of Tomorrow.  There was sweat forming beneath the heavy armour she wore, and she was afraid that it would rust before she reached the end of the well worn cart road.  But there was no helping it.  She must hand over the book to the Chaplain so that he may care for it.

It was heavy.  Though leather bound with an intricate design on its cover of triquetras and ellipses, it had thousands of fine filmy sheets of paper.  It was the size of her torso, and perhaps weighed as much, as it sat in the oilskin pouch that hung on one shoulder.  But then she also carried a heavy broadsword and the cape she insisted on wearing.

The further she walked though, the more tired she became.  And the stronger the hum of the Book of Tomorrow called to her.  She had already succumb to the temptation, and what she had already read seemed harmless enough.  It was just a story, nothing more.

So she stopped, and like she had done before pulled out the book and flipped to the last chapter.

‘The princess walked along the final corridor, at last the burden in her heart would be relieved.  But she staggered.  The weight of some unknown force forced her down.  That death to be imminent…she should have foreseen it.  She was the carrier of the Book of Tomorrow was she not?  And yet, it came, bitterly sweet, crushing her future, taking her past.  All that was left was that moment of the present.

‘But still she trudged onwards, taking her burden to the priest.  The priest would take it, he had said, it was his honour and consensus.  If he could not take that burden then he would have no right to call himself a priest.

‘Yet as the weight turned to stone, squashing her hope just a little more, she pushed the door of the church open, and a shadow loomed above her.  This shadow wore a robe of a priest, but its face was that of a demon.  Startled she drew her sword, but found herself crushed by the burden she had been holding.

‘The demon laughed and asked leeringly, ‘Do you know why it’s called the Book of Tomorrow?’

‘She moaned, but could not stand.  ‘It’s because it’s a book of the future, and no one should ever read it for fear of knowing their death.  Now do you know how it ends?’’

Little Snow looked up from the pages.  There were no more words.  Just blank pages as though the story had ended.  As she wrapped the book up once again, she went to continue her journey.  She had disobeyed the order given to her and had read the sacred pages of the Book of Tomorrow.  But it had called to her, begging her, making her fingers itch.  And she had read every page.  Until the last.  Now, walking, the fear resided in her, building and festering as she reached the end of the road.

No one had seen her read, but that did not mean that it wouldn’t be known.  If the ending of the book was anything to say about it, then she had everything in the world to fear.

She waited at the gate to the holy ground at the end of the road, near the sacred building with its towering spires and gothic architecture.  The gargoyles seemed to laugh at her from their watchdog positions at each corner of the building’s roof.  She waited for the chaplain, with the foreboding sense of the princess’s fear hovering about her.

The evening came and she set up camp, still waiting at the gate.  Though there was a church here and a sacred ground, she did not know when the chaplain would come.  When the Bishop had given her this mission it had been with the command, ‘Take this to the chaplain on the land known as the Holy Land.  Bring it straight to him.  Do not lose it, or read it, just go directly to him and wait for him.’

And she did as she was told, taking the book with her.  She had heard of its sacredness, but she hadn’t ever seen it.  Honoured, she carried her journey on dutifully, acting her part as the warrior Little Snow.  No one had ever given a female such an honourable job before.  In fact it had been unheard of.  And yet, here she was at the end of the journey, without a failure in sight, well, except for the reading of the forbidden book.  But where was the harm in that?  She thought as she chewed on her meat.

Though, she had wondered what had happened to the others before her.  It seemed that many had undertaken the journey to take the book, many male warriors, but yet they all had failed.  And the book had returned to the bishop.  Why, Little Snow didn’t know.

At last, the night turned his head and faded into dawn and Little Snow saw a figure of a man waiting by the doors of the sacred building.  Jumping up, she grabbed the bag with the book and headed to the gate where he ushered her in.  As she stepped past the gate though, she felt a fiery sensation creeping up her legs, like a hot flush of the cheeks that slowly creeps up when embarrassed.

Elsewhere, the bishop sighed, the Book of Tomorrow had reappeared on the podium.

He said, ‘Of course a woman couldn’t face temptation.  I suppose I must give her credit for at least finishing the journey, too bad she’d done so after she finished the book.’

He waddled off in search of another warrior, muttering, ‘What about a child this time?  An obedient one maybe…’

Snow White.

Her prince lay on the ice bed.  She approached; the only thought she had was that she had to save him.  Her hands combed his hair gently as she bowed, bestowing a sweet kiss on his lips.  The witch was wrong.  She could save him.

“Wake,” she said entwining their hands.  “Happy ever after, right?”

Not love, right?

“You ass!”  She threw the plates aiming for his forehead.  But he ducked.  “You pig! Get Out! GET OUT!”

He left.  Inside she slumped down, exhausted.  She didn’t care how far he’d gone.  No ass was allowed to cheat on her and get away with it.  That wasn’t love, right?  So why was she empty?


She stood by the door.  The yelling and the anger tensed the atmosphere.  She felt afraid.  More afraid than she was alone.  Her hand touched the doorknob and she looked outside.

Then there was silence.  Cold, hard silence.  She shudder.  They’d stopped for now.  She pulled her hand away and said, “Next time I’ll go.”


Hope, it seems is all I have for my companion.  We are at the end of my rope.

He takes my hands and I look at him.

“I know you don’t, but trust me.”

Behind me my littlest sister watched me.  To keep her alive, We would have to travel with him.

“Is that all?”

I am.

I am nothing, if by nothing I mean more.

Be a part of a bigger world.  I stare into the mirror.

I am a part of the bigger world.  My head, my body, my face.

But I…I am not.   I drink deep from the bottle I hold.  The burn of alcohol, familiar down my throat.

For Herself.

In the darkness she held her breath.  She was scared.  She was alone.  Could she run all by herself?  She breathed, all her fear escaping her.  She breathed, it rushed back.  She breathed, heat flushed her cheeks.  They wouldn’t catch her.  She could escape them.  “Count to three,” she said to herself.  She jumped up.

Baby… Angelo Saga Part Four.

He leant back against the bar top, his eyes watched only one person.

Sweet Marie knew he watched and she wanted to make him jealous.

She danced like no tomorrow with the guy next to her.

Angelo’s  jaw clenched, and he stalked over pulling her away.

“Baby, you’re no one’s but mine.”  Kissing her roughly.

In Honour.

The sword wavered in her hand.  She wavered.  He would see that she lose everything.  He was all blood and lust.  Honour was at stake.  There was no honour and pride in him.  If she fought, she could lose everything.  She was a girl.  She stepped back, her sword down.   Honour, Pride, they were hers.

The Sword.

She waited for him every day, and he came.  He was her soldier, her pillar of strength, her Prince.  Until the day he didn’t come.   She waited.  A witch came when he didn’t and gave her a sword.

She frowned and held the sword thinking it was for her Prince, but the witch said, “Yours.”

The Perfect Dress.

She had wanted to look good for her date.  Her sister had helped her try on everything in her wardrobe with absolutely no luck at all.  Everything was either too dressy or too casual.  Until she settled on the lacy, cream tunic-like dress.  The expression on her date’s face said it all.  It was perfect.