On what note should this end When a storm so tremendous Has crashed down on this land And left it desolate and broken? Rai, Odette… you remind me of before. Haiyan, Yolanda… the memory of the clash. Under the third signal we once went down… Now, it was boosted to the fourth signal. A cyclone so sudden, becoming powerful Over just a span of time, already on landfall. While the storm of the past was already strong, You gained your strength trampling already on us. On what note should this end With the author so deep in thought Living in a country whose winter is tropical, Whose winter ends in a catastrophe? The winter in the tropics is wet and dry, Within the mercy of several cyclones. All year round, weathered in wet and dry, Spring, summer, autumn—also the same fate. Different seasons, different emotions… Yet, the wet and the dry stay here. On this tropical winter, a bittersweet end All thanks to a sudden super cyclone. Rai, Odette… once a weak cyclone, Gaining strength by

Wind in My Hair... by MaxDomRenOro, literature

Literature

Wind in My Hair...

Staring outside, at the horizon Comes a self full of mixed sentiments. Peace, war; clarity, confusion; joy, sorrow—all these Dominating my heart, mind, and spirit. A soul still standing tall and strong Yet, still feeling the pangs of weakness. I’ve had blades pierced through me several times; I feel like breaking at any moment. I’ve already mounted heavy loads on my back; Yet, I can handle them so well, with all my might. I’ve already felt too much in this life; Please don’t make me feel even worse. Sigh… how swiftly you’d leave like this Without warning, without say. I was left dazed and confused by this, Questioning what just came to be. How quick of you to trip me over, To plunge yet another blade onto me. What did I do to deserve this? What wrong did I do to you? I just couldn’t understand you at all. What is it that you really want? How did I come to annoy you, huh? You… you are a system full of bugs. I guess—you’re like Millennium Edition. You’re fine and calm in some

...Am I Write? by JohnnyCurcio, literature

Literature

...Am I Write?

You see me and infer that I'm in quiet contemplation, when in truth I'm standing resolute combating my stagnation brought upon me by salty stewards stewing in stupidity and waiting for the oncoming comfort of some lucidity. In my vicinity the little beads of sweat from their exertion precipitates a certain kind of moisture like a curtain. They're lurking in the darkness like they're hurting for a squirting of SPF one hundred, but I think they're undeserving. You don't have your mind right so you don't get the limelight, you got the basic lines nice but you don't write a rhyme right. Assailing your failing eyesight with young, aggressive hi

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Her name was Olivia by Henly-Hill, literature

Literature

Her name was Olivia

Her Name Was Olivia Her name was Olivia. She was a college student. She studied math. She wanted to be a teacher. Her name was Olivia. She was an artist. She made beautiful paintings. She wanted to show the world. Her name was Olivia. She was a woman. She loved another girl. She wanted to be loved. Her name was Olivia. She was a hard worker. She struggled every day. She wanted to live an honest life. Her name was Olivia. She was a person. She treated everyone with kindness. She wanted a better world. Her name was Olivia. She was a college student. She failed math. She never became a teacher. Her name was Olivia. She was an artist. She

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