To Mother

Because her honest advice and singing laughter is the best thing you’ve ever heard.
Because she brought warm tea to bed when you were paralyzed with flu.
Because she knows what’s in your heart, though you say not a single word.
Because she stands beside, sword in hand, when the world has turned against you.
Because she always thinks of everyone before herself.
Because without anyone noticing, she tidies counter, closet, shelf.
Because she’s a guardian angel day after day
We say I LOVE YOU in the earnest possible way.

My mom’s favourite kind of flower.

And for smiles:

Comic by none other than Bill Watterson

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Personally, I had always thought it silly that “Mother’s Day” was a celebration. Shouldn’t we treat the people who have devoted their time to nurturing us all our lives be treated with full adoration all the time? But I guess a day of extra special treatment is always welcome. I went for brunch with my mom at Cora’s (where she got free Lindt chocolate) and tonight we went for Chinese downtown at King’s Noodles, handmade and fresh, which was really yummy. My sisters attended a church art club and made lovely drawings and bookmarks for her. It was just too bad Mother Nature did not seem in the mood to be appreciated as it was a rather cold, gusty, and rainy day. Nevertheless, there is nothing like a family movie on a Sunday. Happy Mother’s Day to mums everywhere!

Also, today’s Google Doodle was sweet. You can make your own Mother’s Day card through the animation. Here’s the one I made. Very clever idea!

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Inspiration Collage: For a Special Someone

“Rise above it” Fine Art Print by Amanda Cass

Dedicated to that special Someone: I hope this has spread some sunshine for you and that you know  there are many who are always here for you.

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All these posts are taken from Pinterest, which unfortunately does not always have the best cited sources. For those that do not recognize his style, the poem on the left is written by Shel Silverstein, one of my favourite authors in elementary school. The new genre of combining images and quotes is a great way to inspire and would be fun to create, I imagine. I love collecting so I can read through them in low times.

Life can be tough, and comfort can be found in this medium. Hope some of these resonated with you the way they did to me.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

TEAL (NaPoWriMo #28a)

Source: atoo.co.uk

Trendy piece in confident fashion
Endless skies and sparkling coasts
Anticipation brewing under cool demeanor
Lost soul floating aimlessly in blank pondering

Intermediate, like a light switch balanced between on and off
Bold yet changing with the ebbs of time
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Teal also happens to be the colour of my ballet uniform.The prompt for a colour poem was too good to resist. So now I’m two poems behind. Oh well. Maybe I will be able to post another one tonight. Congratulations to everyone who has successfully completed the NapoWriMo challenge today!

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Ballad of a Phoenix (NaPoWriMo #25)

there was a phoenix young and bright
feathers shine engulfed in flame
it sparkles gold in dawn of light
waiting to be bestowed a name

take these wings and fly to the sea
i will be here when you return to me

i have a phoenix brisk and bright
blinding in rash or angry flame
proud but afraid of its intense light
wild in spirit, but in heart still tame

with those wings fly as far as the sea
don’t forget, here waiting, is me

my phoenix no longer brilliantly bright
burning slowly a serene flame
secrets of time beneath comforting light
powerful creature just the same

the wings have traversed more than one single sea
rest your tired limbs on me

i had a phoenix, in sight and mind bright
who one day extinguished its flame
vanish to leave only embers of light
darkness fell and the night came

from ashes emerges a song from the sea
those glowing wings remember me

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My attempt at a story through a ballad with an ABAB rhyme scheme. I have always loved phoenixes, beautiful, powerful, and able to be reborn from their ashes. Human life is linear, but there are physical and emotional cycles within it. One lyric resembles that of the Beatles’ song “Blackbird” in “take these broken wings and learn to fly” because I love this song and the image of flight it creates. I have associated loyalty with these magical creatures since reading about Fawkes, Dumbledore’s pet phoenix in the Harry Potter series, so that’s where that attribute came from. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write a tune for it. Or not.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Image source: http://wiki.godvillegame.com/File:Phoenix.jpg

A Tanka (NaPoWriMo #11)

Striking photo of a frozen statue by Miika Järvinen

Sleet drops in buckets
I forgot my umbrella
Must I go outside?
A hooded man sits content
On the street sipping hot tea

“Someone else is happy with less than what you have.” -Unknown

(More than one third of the way there!)

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Zombies (NaPoWriMo #1)

Apocalypse through movie screens
Defending the world in a dream hero game
Glued to fantasy stories, plugged into machines
Blind we’re becoming the dead just the same.

Comic from Geek & Poke by Oliver Widder

So I found out it’s National Poetry Writing Month! I have realized these past few weeks just how much I enjoy writing poems and 30 poems in 30 days sounds like a fun challenge. I hope to keep them inspired and concise to be able to succeed in blogging one every day. I usually write poems in spontaneous situations, so I hope I can keep it interesting for everyone and that you enjoy these poems of April. Let NaPoWriMo begin!

Check it out: http://www.napowrimo.net/

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Dancing with the moon: A short memory

Credit to http://www.retrokimmer.com/2012/10/full-moon-october-2012.html

I remember the nights when the moon would shine by the window, peeking through branches of our backyard pine tree, gentle light falling onto the folds of the blanket. It was on these nights I would sit and stare at moon’s face, contemplating the shades that fell onto its smooth pearl surface, feeling special as the clear, white light washed over me.

I would imagine myself floating and leaping as I twirled weightlessly in the land of white dust, and leaving nothing but the light footprints of my dancing feet along with a trail of swirling powder behind me. I think of having gravity leave me, as I soar into the night sky of twinkling stars where the Earth looks perfect, a beautiful, sparkling jewel of life, with patterns of green, clouds, and bright city lights in the dark.

And when I drift back down to the planet, back to the bed where I have propped myself up, there the moon would be, smiling the soft reflected sun rays into the window, an inch higher in the black velvet of night. I would adjust view so I could gaze at the full, round face, and wonder more of things, like how moon’s surface hadn’t changed in the longest time, and that footprints had  virtually been stamped on it, staying in the dust where nothing stirred its existence.

I felt, on those nights, that I could have looked up at the moon forever, soaking up the reassuring glow, cherishing the moments I spent passing each second traveling in the dark midnight with a magical blanket of the calm, full moon wrapped around me.

And my dreams would fly on, in the sleepy yet alive city, surrounded by the purity of polar opposites black and white, carrying me in the late, quiet air with the distant chirping of a cricket symphony. Until moon would let me flutter down in my sleep, so high above the tree, wishing me a farewell as its light reached the edge of my bed, and glazed out the windowsill, leaving me with the still, dusty memories of our dance that night. And yet I would dream on, of the next time moon shall come to greet me, in the tangles of the pine brushes.

Published from October 9, 2009:
A giant full moon was spotted through our window a few days ago, and reminded of a little something I had written years ago. After a bit of searching, I found the notebook, and here it is. It’s different from how I remember, and though I find it ambiguous with very long sentences at times, there are some rediscovered moments and phrases here that I like. Although the moon has been associated with dark magic and eerie nights, I don’t find it so. Then again, I have never been in a dark forest alone under a full moon so… what do I know.

Anyways, thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

The Sublime: Frankenstein inspired paragraph

Water lapped my waist as I stood, heels sucked into the sand, sandpaper hair swiftly blown over sandpaper skin. Water is everywhere, gently rocking me like a piece of kelp – the waves are quiet for now, as if they were waiting, like me, but I know they could swallow me up in their swirling depths if they wanted to. A rippling surface stretches forever, past the drop at the end of the world, where a giant red disk slowly descends, inching closer and closer for a dip in Earth’s pool. Salty eyes squint at burning fire as it grows still, its radiance too intense to see and too magnificent to glance away from. And then, it finally happens. The brilliance extends its tendrils across the vastness of the sky, illuminating the canvas with brushes of orange and gold, splashes of rose and magenta, dashes here and there of deep blue and violet. The symphony of an entire spectrum makes my heart race and my breath silent, and I close my eyes, trying to absorb, to capture and embed the vivid scene into my memory in a way no camera can. When I open them, it has all started to soften; bright colours mellow into a blend and the light fades as evening floats down, like a blanket folding over the planet. A glowing arc peeks over the horizon, where waves continue to stir restlessly, transforming into a sea of dark goo with the disappearing light. A chill runs through my bones as suddenly cold water sprays into my face and I lift my ankles from the unseen floor, a speck in the endless swells of liquid drifting slowly back to shore.

Sunset at the Island of Kanawa, Indonesia
Credit: Richard Susanto (500px.com/ChenHauHau)

Wrote this for school. Seems I’m excited for summer already.
Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Regret: Another nostalgic paragraph assignment

There was a smell of Regret in the air tonight. She (Rebecca) smiled and turned the fancy in her mind. There was a thought. What did Regret smell like? Like smoke and rust and cobwebs. And if you wondered what Regret sounded like it sounded like the airy whispers of forgotten ghosts, and crushed bone, and a mirror shattering into a thousand tiny slivers, and silent screams. And, going further, what did Regret look like? Regret looked like dead flies trapped between the glasses of a windowsill or it looked like invisible splinters in the tip of a finger, or a burning piece of crumpled paper slowly engulfed by flames, slowly crumbling into nothing but withered ashes. That was how Regret smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight – Rebecca shoved a hand into the pack of cigarettes – tonight you could almost touch Regret.
(The Streetlight Chronicles)

This was a fill-in-the-blank-type assignment entitled “Is Characterizing Abstract Nouns Personification?” written in 2009. We were inspired to write our own version of the following paragraph written by Ray Bradbury:

There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He (Tomas) smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did Time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time looked like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theatre, or one hundred billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight – Tomas shoved his hand into the wind outside the truck – tonight you could almost touch Time.
(Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles)

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Personification paragraph assignment

The breathing block of cold stand lonely in the bare corner of the kitchen, humming to itself, glumly. Its boring, smooth face hides underneath a magnetic collage of seasonal picture frames and cards, magnetic maple leafs and hockey sticks with ‘Canada’ written on them, cartoon spelling alphabets and mini plush animals. The jolly decor that covers the otherwise empty wall distracts one from the quiet grumbling caused by the refrigerator’s internal burden of frozen veggies and giant pitchers of juice. It mopes in its limited patch of floor, sinking slouchily from exhaustion because it can’t sit down, and silently shuddering from the freezing air it contains. Its only importance is to keep cheese cold and no one notices its discomfort or unhappiness. The fridge stays in the kitchen this way until someone wants a yogurt tube and opens the door. And in that one moment, it awakes from its monotonous slumber, growing taller brightening its lights, blowing a chilly sigh of relief to the one who saw its existence. It stays somewhat happy for a minute or two, feeling a tiny bit of pride flutter from somewhere deep within and momentarily congratulates itself for its ingenious usefulness. But soon, it discretely retracts back into its quiet place, slowly settling back into its lonely, melancholic way. And the refrigerator stands dull again in its insignificant corner of the kitchen, humming a little tune to itself, like it always does when it feels invisible.

Rediscovered and republished from 2009
by thebookybunhead

PS: I believe this character may have been inspired by this beloved robot from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: there is certainly a resemblance, no?

Marvin the Paranoid Android