Age (NaPoWriMo #12)

Source : bambilulu.tumblr.com/post/24974465359

Age is a legendary director of awful movies.
It is a singer-songwriter, and multi-instrumental performer.
Age is the bold and the bashful.
It is community and children’s health.

Age delights in a wide range of beer.
Age is interested in the mundane and overlooked.
Yet itself is a wonderful, secret, and magic combination.

It is a naturally occurring block fundamental to the crafting of many blocks in the game.

In a small but impressive microcosm of the universe, age is creativity –
Alive, flourishing.
It offers more than 1000 possibilities.

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I am the co-author of this poem along with Google, where these phrases were found from searching the term “wood.” the task was to replace a concrete thing with an intangible idea, in this case, age. Surprisingly, there are many business names with this word, offering lots of unchanged inspiration from page 1-5 of the search results. Individually it seems a bit odd, but together I think it works!

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

Nonsense Icelandic (NapoWriMo #16)

A Less Than Amateur Translation of SKAGAFJÖRÐUR by Gerður Kristný

Its reign a very
alluring vile birth
so that a hero in livid mittens
beggar paired at Kemer
million cokes often I grace
an affluent minuet
of fairy mail luging I’m
fingerless corner
but shelf around gum or gruel

Summit at each effort how
bake bar after
as hymncry hustles continue

alto skulls part alms and of Jazzybarns/Jesusborn

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Original text:
Ég reyni að vera
alúðleg við börnin
svo þau hirði um leiðið mitt
þegar þar að kemur
mylji köku ofan í grasið
á afmælinu mínu
og fari með ljóðið um
fingruðu kýrnar
þá sjálf orðin gömul og grá

Samt á ég eftir að
þekkja þau aftur
á himneskri húsalyktinni

alltaf skulu þau ilma eins og Jesúbarnið

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Actual English Translation:
I try to be
kind to the children
so they’ll tend my grave
when the time comes
crumble biscuits in the grass
on my birthday
and recite the poem about
the gambolling cows
themselves grown old and grey

All the same I will
know them again
by the heavenly smell of the stable

may they always be fragrant as the Jesus child

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This challenge is a lot harder than it looks! I chose a language very different from English and the ones that I understand to really play the guessing game and see how much contrast would be made. It is quite a beautiful poem and makes we wonder about what other works I have missed from the limited exposure we have to world culture. And to be honest, I have no idea what I just wrote.Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Bittersweet Nostalgia (NaPoWriMo #12)

At a best friend’s cottage.

I miss you.
But I don’t know
If it’s you,
Or the you I knew years, or even months, before.
You’ve changed.
Or maybe I’ve changed.
Or both of us have since taking our own risks and choices.
We said we’d keep in touch, but did we?
Every time I see you
A flood of memories flash before my eyes
And then I’m not sure if I’m really seeing you
And I wonder if you get this confused vision too.
Time has a funny way of dividing reality and memory.
Conversations, jokes, games, plain old sitting at the table,
I remember.
I know you do too,
Because best friends don’t forget that stuff.
Time moves on but we talk of past moments,
Precious but irrelevant to the stories we each write now.
Time has a funny way of dividing people sometimes.
I can see my nostalgic sadness reflected in your eyes.
And somehow our goodbyes
Are never-ending.
Because forever can last forever in your mind.
Until we meet again,
I just wanted to say that
I miss you.

“I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.”
-Helen Keller

*UPDATE: A few weeks after writing this post, I ran into my friend at a ballet awards show. It was a thrilling surprise and we got caught up for a few good hours. Funny how life can offer you the best coincidences… *

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Just Another Angel: For my grandfather (NapoWriMo #6)

Calligraphy by my grandfather. The first character is “silence”, the one in the corner is “beautiful”. It translates to English: “Silence is golden.”

though you are not here in total, and never will be again

you linger in my heart, and in my memories
no more conversations, or sitting by the tv
it is hard to accept that

i am sorry we didn’t spend our time like we should

with me around the globe, it’s hard
yet you traveled all this way once
and here we are now with everyone
but, it was too late

though your spirit soared, and your mind fought so much

you were leaving behind the air needed to breathe
no more medications to swallow or needles piercing through your skin

and you now fly high, i am pretty sure about that

but you leave us behind, with tears to shed and splinters of the past life you had

and we have to gather up the memories that lay broken on the floor
but you live always, in those whose very existence depended on you
those like me
you are up there with all the heavenly bodies

just another angel

watching our family peacefully

but to me, you are not another one of them

you were my grandfather,my one and only, and always will be

i love you

“To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.” – Thomas Campbell

Published from September 1st, 2009.

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My grandparents flew to Canada once from Indonesia, and in 2009, our family from all around the world flew in to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. My grandfather had been ill, and his condition worsened while we were there. It was a very bittersweet trip and shortly after we landed in British Columbia, we received the news that Kong-Kong, as we called him, had passed away. I wrote him this poem. Today’s prompt to write a valediction, or poem of farewell, reminded me of it.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Straggling between the lines

Me: And now, for some night reading.
Body: This bed is so comfy.
Brain logic: Pillow > Book. Shutting down… zzzzzz

This has been me the past couple weeks. I seriously think I’m a borderline bookworm as of today since both my pile of overdue books and to-read list grow and grow and grow… Too many books and too little time!

I feel like I’ve been treading in a sea of school, dance rehearsals, and music practices, neglecting my favourite relaxing activity for the confused scramble of chasing things that I can’t always remember. It’s one of those hectic parts of life again. One with not so much sleep and lots of much missed reading.

Not just for books, but blogs as well. Ever since joining WP I have a growing realization of just how diverse the blogosphere is. There are less hours in day than needed to read everything I want to posted on that one day. So high fives all around to you bloggers, for producing the content that you do.

In the meantime, guess I’ll just keep carrying a book around everywhere as usual, in hopes of finding a few minutes to devour a chunk of text treasure.

Do you get reader’s block? What are you reading right now?

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead