Sunday, September 14, 2014

Breakaway

Sitting under the towering bamboo trees, I look out to the ripples on the lake. The wind is blowing gently and a few birds pass by. No one else is in sight except for a few construction men hammering away on the roofs at least a kilometre away from me. 

There are pieces of rubbish laying nearby my feet including a pink soiled slipper, possibly left behind by a child of about ten years old. It does not bother me one bit. Why? Because I need to get away.

Away from the noises and naggings, stacks of chores and obligations, clutters of ideas in my mind, the feeling of being stuck and nowhere else to go, decisions to be made and etc. So I need just a little time alone to breathe and be in touch with divinity, with God.

God, what do you want me to do now? I remembered the lake behind my house and grabbing my sketchbook and a pen, I walked out into the hot sun and just kept walking. Motorcycles buzzed by. The thought of snatch thieves did not scare me at all. So what if I lose my phone? I kept walking. Lord, I need to be alone with you! You better clear off everyone else from the lake. 

God heard me. When I reached the lake, it was empty. I have never seen the lake so peaceful without a single soul around. 

And so..I found a little corner facing the lake with bamboo trees bending down on both sides to create a little arch as a shade to shield me from the scorching sun. I sat down. My heart cried. What's next Lord? Why is it so tough to follow you? As the wind blew stronger, my heart calmed but not for long. What if a pervert was lurking around and decide to pounce on me? Rape? Shucks..right there and then I was reminded to not be afraid. God watches over me.

The lake near my house..my breakaway


I sit there and just stare at the waters moving in rhythm towards me. All fears have left. God is with me. I still do not find my answers yet but a sense of peace tells me that everything will be all right. All will be made clear. There is a hand holding me through the fog. I may not be able to see the road in front of me but someone up there can and He's going to guide me through. Failures will not break me. It just simply means God has a better plan. 

I see something moving through the clear waters. It's a snake! I do not budge. I hear a vehicle moving close. Looking behind, I see a white van approaching my direction driven by a middle aged man who looks like a mechanic. I think it's a sign I should leave. I get up and go home.

I thank God for the little breakaway! It's not like I've experienced anything phenomenal or recharged completely from a spiritual retreat. A breath of fresh air from my suffocating situation is all I wanted and God blessed me with it.

I feel ideas pouring into my soul now. Definitely a new story brewing..time to get to work! You should totally try a breakaway too even if it means just taking a walk down the block from your stuffy office or a 5 mins break from your pile of dishes!



Friday, September 12, 2014

TOO much Imagination

Too much imagination. Sometimes I wonder if it's a gift or a curse. Everything I see can automatically be used as an inspiration to create something else. Unfortunately, I do not have the luxury of time to accomplish all these. 

I am already toying with the idea of my second novel with no affirmations whatsoever that I will ever get the first one published. I have not exactly met up with any publishers except for a few competitions that I've entered with the hope of getting a publication. Any recommendations?

Self-publishing sounds like a brilliant idea but with zero cash and lack of experience, I wonder if I can make that happen. In fact, I already have the book cover in mind for my first novel. Definitely another painting of mine!

Some of you perhaps may already know that I am an artist, writer and fashion designer/stylist. Juggling the different fields are way more challenging than I thought especially when you're working from home with household chores and family obligations come nagging at you during times when you should be locked away in a room writing! Sad to say, not many of us can afford that sacred studio space rented just to do writing or painting.

http://cdn3-www.craveonline.com/assets/uploads/2013/03/frustrated-writer.jpg


I guess I will just have to suck it all in and do adjustments over and over again. Hopefully by this time next year, I would have made some progress and perhaps have a space that I can let myself go and get lost in my arts.

Fridays don't make much difference to me but for those craving for the weekend holidays away from the 9 to 5 job, Happy Friday to you all!

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

You Are Mine


You are Mine

That beautiful day,
A mystical union,
A glimpse of eternity,
Touching divinity,
Angels dancing

Worldly noises,
Human traffic,
Watchful woes,
Lust and greed,
Lottery strikes

Light slowly fades,
Darkness swarm,
Hunger caves in,
Turmoils burst,
Painful separation

Heaven is far,
In exile and lost,
Endless sinking,
What has become
Of that faith

Wake up to truth
Repent and obey
Not own's strength
Can ever move
Mountains of flesh

A voice says
I forgive you
You are Mine 
Go in peace
Beloved One

Friday, August 22, 2014

In the Hands of PEACE


In the Hands of PEACE by Angelina Bong

The thunder bellows,
Clouds toss and turn,
Roll in dark shades,
Lightning dashes down,
Striking forests of old

The earth shatters,
Uproot ancient trees,
Shakes all caverns,
Endless tremor shouts,
Cries of hell fill the air

The waves roar,
Rise in fiery fumes,
Forge ahead in rage,
Devour all in sight,
Tsunami is no match

War from both ends,
Kill and Slaughter,
Turmoil in action,
Anxieties nag on,
Fears break loose


A kingly whisper
Says Be Not Afraid
Embrace and hold
Blind but calm
PEACE is here


Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of Peace no matter sunshine or rain, no matter facing raging storms or fiery turmoils.


John 14:27 "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Dance of Poetry

Image from http://askdoctordebbie.com/2011/09/19/the-physics-of-dance/
Surreal or so it seems,
Meet on that fateful day,
A twist of events unfold,
Over active imaginations
Push aside realities of old
 
Swing poetry side by side,
The lips whisper each line,
Blow kisses light and soft,
Like fluttering butterflies,
Catches it and closes eyes
 
Soak in verses of honey,
A twirl around the finger,
Each stanza tickles slightly,
Feet springs like dandelions,
Grand jeté on each rhythm
 
Soar through words of gold
Swan like moves in the air
In love or much infatuation
The notes continue to enchant
Alas it has to part and vanish
 

Friday, August 8, 2014

The Innocent Cries

Broken pieces fly over me
Shards of memoirs flash by
Running across green hills
Smiles and chatters with family
Will these days ever return?

Fears paint the faces around me
Hopes and dreams crumble and torn
I lie awake with no more tears
Numb to bombings and shootings
Will this madness ever end?

Hunger and thirst becomes a norm
The little one cries out for milk
I have nothing left to give
Not even my pride or dignity
What is left for me to do?

Blood spilling like water fall
In the name of religion and politics
Broken limbs and dying spirits
Defeat rises more than victory
What have I done to deserve this?

I ponder on the golden days,
Bread and honey on the table,
The white lamb at my feet,
Dance to the echoes of the caves,
Will I ever hear music again?

Source: http://www.mamalisa.com/images/non_ml_images/bluebird.gif

A bird perches on my window sill,
Fluttering with chirps of glee,
Pecks on my cheek with a kiss,
Something melts in my heart,
Is it trying to say something?

A shrill cry fills the gloomy shack,
A child hovers over her dying mother,
She shakily says to her and me,
I will see you both in heaven,
Are my days fewer than I think?

Source: http://www.momscleanairforce.org/wp-content/uploads/sky_bird-580x386.jpg

The bird flies up high to the sky,
Blue and pink with sunny rays,
A drop of peace amidst death notes,
Do not be afraid it seems to say,
My body shall die but not my soul


I dedicate this to the innocent victims of the recent Gaza/Israel War and especially the minorities who might be slaughtered in Iraq. 





Tuesday, August 5, 2014

YOUR TOUCH

Dazzling freckles on my face,
Messy hair floating adrift,
The waves slowly roll me over,
Basking in shades of orange,
The hazy sky beams a smile,
Are you waving from up there?

Siar Beach on a Hazy Noon


Sea shells scrape my toes,
Buried in the crispy sand,
A fish or two wiggle past,
Crabs scamper out from holes,
Barnacles bid hello from under,
Are you whispering from beneath?

Old uncle casts his fishing net into the cool waters


An old uncle casts his net,
Little fishes run like mad,
Trapped in between strings,
I release and throw them back,
Freedom from men’s grasp,
Are your hands reaching me?

A wooden house graces the beach,
Rusty boat pushes into the waters,
Coconut trees sway left and right,
I draw on the sand with a stick,
A shape of love big and clear,
Is your love big and wide too?

Children giggling in wet suits,
Building sand balls and castles,
Running with no cares or tears,
I sit down and watch them,
Wishing life has no worries,
Are you even listening to me?

A wrinkled lady dives into the sea,
Cheers and glee spread all over,
Young like a deer she dances,
I wave and catch her lively glow,
Close my eyes and feel the breeze,

I think you have finally touch me