20 posts
  • amsterdam 10w

    Who do you think I am?

    I'm not a mystery,
    I wonder why you think that way,
    I'm not a puzzle to solve,
    I'm not impossible to decode.

    If you will simply listen,
    To what I'm trying to say,
    You will see the genuine me,
    I ain't a wonder of the century.

    Sorry to burst your bubble,
    I'm not some kind of waffle,
    Whom you can fiddle with when you're bored,
    Or when you're up to something no good.

    I thought you knew me,
    What were you thinking anyway,
    I'm just my usual self,
    Not an illusion in your head.

    — ������������������
    First impression is lasting,they say. I beg to disagree.
    Though it's human nature to judge people
    even if we know nothing about them.
    Even if we only heard a few stories about them.

    Salamat po, @writersnetwork ! ����❤✨

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  • amsterdam 13w


    Skies of California dreams paint
    smiles and sighs in hues and
    shades of euphoria and peace,
    Serenity drapes the horizon with
    showers of blushing colors as the
    sun seize the day and bestow
    spectacular salute when dusk arrives.


    Inspired by @/ my_cup_of_poetry

    shukran , @writersnetwork !❤����✨

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    Skies of California dreams paint
    smiles and sighs in hues and
    shades of euphoria and peace,
    Serenity drapes the horizon with
    showers of blushing colors as the
    sun seize the day and bestow
    spectacular salute when dusk arrives.


  • amsterdam 13w

    What if you're told to sketch happiness, how are you going to give it a face?

    Would it look like the sun twirling and smiling so wide with beads of sweat on its forehead, sporting cute, plump, rosy cheeks? Or is it when the flowers and butterflies are giggling with the blushing skies, sharing anecdotes of the universe only them will ever know.

    Time after time, life offers you honey-glazed happiness. A tad too sweet for your taste you feel like you'd suffer toothache for days.
    And whenever it is served to you on a silver platter, you cut it into tidbits so that it won't touch the restricted zone of your tongue.

    It's a wonder if smiles and laughter truly measure one's happiness. What if it won't wrinkle the corners of their eyes? How will we ignore the sobs camouflaged with hearty laughter? Are we compelled to laugh and smile to show that we are happy?

    They say happiness is bliss yet every time euphoria hits you, you shed tears that never turn sweet no matter how much you sprinkle them with branded sugar left in the cupboard.
    Perhaps it was fake because even the ants prefer salt over it.

    Tell me, what is the color of happiness?
    Is it in bright hues or pastel wonders?
    What if I like things in plain black and white?
    Will I ever find genuine happiness if I'm colorblind?

    #question #iheartwn
    @writersnetwork ,gracias ! ��❤��✨

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    Tell me, what is the color of happiness?
    Is it in bright hues or pastel wonders?
    What if I like things in plain black and white?
    Will I ever find genuine happiness if I'm colorblind?


  • amsterdam 23w

    You chew on memories like
    They are orange happy pills
    In blue and grey packets
    That tasted like winter dreams,
    And you choke on a lump
    Of frozen teardrops,
    Flakes of nostalgia
    Burn your throat
    Stab your chest
    And you bleed in silence.

    Rummaging through
    Polaroids from 1960
    You ask yourself again
    Where time has gone by?

    You still sport the same haircut
    Wear your favorite stonewashed jeans
    Listen and enjoy the same playlist
    Yet, you feel like someone else
    Trapped in the wrong body
    Suspended in an odd time zone
    And you're like a stranger
    In the city where you were born.

    Your name doesn't ring a bell anymore
    No one asks who lives in 501 Daffodil Street,
    Even the mailman and newspaper guy
    Have forgotten their way to your doorstep
    And you wonder what happened,
    You ask yourself for the 9th time
    Where time has gone by?

    But no one is left to
    Answer your questions, only
    The antique time machine
    The war-torn calendars
    The empty chair and
    The forgotten cobwebs

    Are left behind.

    Lesson: Live life to the fullest.
    Thank you @writersnetwork ! ❤����

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  • amsterdam 27w

    @writersnetwork, thank you.������✨

    Zephyr: A Promise Of Better Days Ahead

    How is your day going on so far?

    Mine is a stretch of quiet joys inspiring me to live and write about. Telling me to switch off my phone, find a space in the balcony and bask on the gentle zephyr promising peace, all mine to enjoy on a lovely afternoon. When the weather is made of beautiful dreams and the sepia glow frames a cinematic view as Christmas songs fill the air with warm nostalgia, I take a deep breath and let it all sink in.

    Days like today fill my cup with hope to the brim. When the sun paints the skies with the most breathtaking hues of blues, washing away all the ugly blues. Like a soothing balm doing wonders to the weary soul, making me feel everything is going to be fine.

    I no longer count the days and try to label them good or bad. I simply take them as they are and receive the gifts they have for me. The lessons and life hacks that get me through trying times and keep me sane amidst the chaos and uncertainty.
    I'm not going to pretend that it's all sunshine from this side but I dwell on the gentle knowing that no matter how seemingly strange or dark a season is, it always carries some light.

    It may seem hard to find things to celebrate about nowadays when the world seems to be upside down and things can get overwhelming.
    But we will surely get by.

    Cherish tidbits of happiness no matter how small they may be. Look for the little packets of silver linings scattered on secret corners you'd never imagine waiting for you to be found.
    When all else fails, still, be gentle with yourself.
    Breathe deeply like you never did before. Let the soothing zephyr touch and heal your soul.

    Hold space.
    Embrace the gentle parts of today.
    Of every day.

    ( After LT. Gomez)

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  • amsterdam 28w

    And just like that, September slipped away
    like a dream. Like a song we sometimes wish would never end. It came and went almost unnoticed. Its soft footsteps never made the floor creak even on languid days when the afternoons were drowsy and couldn't stifle a yawn.

    How I wish I told her weeks back to stay for good, but I was too engrossed listening to the variety of nostalgic Christmas songs being played on repeat since the day she first knocked on my door with surprise gifts that made the kid in me ecstatic for days. I forgot she isn't staying for long or maybe I knew but I was just in denial that I thought it's going to make the days longer than they should.

    Some days I wish the hours would stretch till eternity so I could sit beside her as long as I want to, while we enjoy hot cocoa with bits of Marshmallows by the window on drizzly mornings. And like best of friends, we would giggle no end as we tell each other random stories and plans for Christmas while we watch the rain trickle lazily on windowpanes, then we will write our names with tiny hearts on the foggy glass.

    This morning, I was a bit under the weather knowing that September packed her suitcase last night and today is her last day with me. I wanted to make us a hearty breakfast, with her favorite bacon and eggs but we ended up having the longest, most quiet breakfast over oatmeal and brewed coffee. We ate in silence, my breathing shallow, I could feel the lump in my throat stuck for a moment. I couldn't hush and stop the stubborn tear that fell on my cheek like a naughty kid.

    I wanted to hug her oh so tight and tell her to stay for a while but I knew it's time for her to go. Somehow, the thought that she's coming back one fine day made the parting a little less bittersweet, it made my separation anxiety take a back seat as I heaved a deep sigh.
    I guess it isn't going to stick around that long for October to see.


    Thank you so much,
    @mirakee for the 2nd time.����❤✨

    And @writersnetwork
    for giving me chances! ����❤✨

    To the whole Mirakee family, thank you so much, from the bottom of my grateful heart. Cheers! ��

    #iheartwn #sugarpod

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  • amsterdam 29w

    #kimo #iheartwn
    Thank you so much, @writersnetwork !Mwah! ����✨

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  • amsterdam 30w

    is not
    a piece of
    clay kneaded and
    shaped to fit right into society's mold.

    is not
    a rag used
    to wipe and scrub
    grime off society's filthy hands and minds.

    is not
    a doll toyed
    and dismembered
    when old, ends in the bin missing a limb.

    is not
    a puppet
    with fancy cords
    you can control to your satisfaction.

    is not
    a trophy
    to boost one's voracious ego and pride.

    is not
    a punching
    bag hit and kicked
    to amusement of someone immature.

    is one
    fine human
    a girl with a
    mind of her own, never society-owned.

    is true
    iron lady
    She's extraordinarily WOMAN.


    #PoetryWednesday #tetractys #iheartwn
    Thank you @writersnetwork for the chances. Keep them coming. ��❤��✨

    PS: To everyone in the comment section, I say Thank You for your presence. It is truly appreciated.
    Love lots! Mwah! ��✨

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  • amsterdam 34w

    Funny how I pretend
    I'm not breaking when
    Piece by piece of my
    Happiness leaves
    A trail of chilled sadness
    In places, I don't want
    Anyone to know about.

    Funny how I pretend
    I'm not longing for someone
    When I sleep on the side
    Of the bed where I won't
    See the shadows of the past
    And I leave the lights open
    To exorcise the ghosts of those
    Who left without saying
    A lukewarm goodbye.

    Funny how I pretend
    I'm not weeping on random nights
    I am alone in the company
    Of bottled memories
    And a suitcase of regrets.

    Funny how I pretend
    I'm not grieving over dead feelings
    And wilted flowers
    I've pressed ever so gently
    In between the lonely pages
    Of my vintage diary
    That once upon a time
    Bed of roses to vows
    Of endless affection
    Whispered by sweet lips
    Glazed with ample deceit.

    Funny how I pretend,
    I'm not faking my smiles and
    I'm not hurting anymore.

    Time Check: 6:20am
    August 24,2020
    Gooood morning!☀
    OMG! I woke up to this!��
    Thank you super duper much!!!
    @mirakee @writersnetwork ������✨
    And of course, thank you so much, EVERYONE!����
    #iheartwn #sugarpod

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    Funny how I pretend
    I am not weeping on random nights
    I am alone in the company
    Of bottled memories
    And a suitcase of regrets.


  • amsterdam 34w

    Some days I want to write about beautiful things in rose-scented words shimmering with pretty metaphors. But it's funny how I always end up stabbing the blank sheets with the words straight from my core, flexing what's bottled up inside in black and white honesty.

    From a distance, they look ugly with scars of different shapes and sizes mimicking heartbreaks from then and now. Upon closer inspection, they magnify the strength I once had, reminding me of the times I defied death (heartbreak) even if it looks a lot more like me now.

    Truth be told, you don't die from a mere heartbreak. It does more than that. Much more that sometimes, it isn't surprising when it completely turns someone into a totally different human, he himself doesn't even recognize and like. I guess it's worse than dying. When you're still breathing but has long been dead inside.

    When you die every day just to stay alive.


    *it doesn't make sense so don't get confused and move on.
    Thank you, @writersnetwork ������✨

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  • amsterdam 42w

    Word for word.
    Phrase by phrase.
    Scribble after scribble.

    I spill the ink of my thoughts into the blank sheets, breathing life to what's left unspoken.
    I stitch them with the threads and strings of my heart and soul.
    Sometimes with precision.
    Oftentimes, as raw as they can get.
    No fancy vocabulary.
    Just black and white dribble and drabble coming from the graveyards of my being-untouched and unseen.
    It opens a door into a world where my words break free and they become alive with a new meaning of their own.

    Why do I write? When do I write?

    When the words burn the tip of my tongue and the voice is yet to be found, I let my pen breathe life into my words dying for attention.

    When the heart is bursting with happiness and rainbows aren't enough to tell its happy tales, I let my pen paint the blank sheets with the many shades of my thoughts.

    When days are dreary and the soul becomes weary, I let loose of my thoughts into random scribbles written without abandon-setting free to monsters and demons within.

    When words are screaming and begging for release, I pick up my pen and let it bleed-
    with the ink of stories and tales of what and who I am.

    Thank you, @writersnetwork! ������✨

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    Why I Write

  • amsterdam 48w

    Dear Precious,

    There may be moments when you feel like the world is against you because you feel that you don't have your own spot under the sun and you don't belong anywhere else but in your pretty cocoon. Well, cheer up because the truth is, SOMETIMES, it's just all in your head.

    Wake up and do not sweat the small stuff.

    We all are but a speck and a dot in the grander scheme of things. You may never know what other people are going through. You may never know that the thought of you don't even cross their own web of hazy thoughts yet there you are sulking in your own pool of self-pity just because you didn't get the attention you always wanted or you think you deserved.

    Come to think of it, isn't it unfair of you to demand such attention from other people yet you know at some point you failed to give it to them and most importantly to yourself?

    All of us constantly grow whether we get the validation we think we deserve or not.

    We do and we have to.

    Remember, people tend to be happier when they are confident.
    When they do not constantly compare themselves with other people.
    When they do not seek validation and turn to the wrong people and places.
    When they are comfortable in their own skin and insecurities have no place in their hearts.
    When they don't pretend to be someone they are not.

    We all grow in our own terms, in our own pace.
    It may be good if you are growing at the speed of your own expectations but it is completely all right if you barely move forward no matter how you push yourself to the limits.
    Do not lose your drive, instead, find what makes you tick and hold on to it dearly.

    And while you're at it-
    remember to BE KIND TO YOURSELF.

    Life isn't a competition or a race. It is all about finding your worth and tucking it proudly on your sleeves while you are on your way to your dream destination-HAPPINESS and CONTENTMENT.

    You will get there in time.
    With the right people.
    With the right perspective.
    With the right attitude.

    For now, take that deep breath and give yourself a tight hug and a pat on the back.

    Love Much,


    Thank you so much, @writersnetwork!������✨

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  • amsterdam 51w

    If I were to paint in words
    how happiness looks like
    it'd look like laughing flowers
    in the full bloom of happy colors
    dancing and swaying
    to gentle breeze
    in lovely summertime.

    If I were to describe
    how grief is to me,
    it's how dead leaves fall
    one by one
    to the stone-cold ground,
    silently and in slow motion
    when midnight comes like a thief
    and the world is sound asleep.

    If I were to confess
    how I perceive anger
    it would be like
    blazing Hades
    perilous and destructive
    engulfing everything on its way
    to ashes and embers of catastrophe.

    If love had a face and
    is captured in a moment,
    it is a portrait of a sweet smile
    on a baby's face as it slowly turns
    into animated coos and crackles
    melting hearts away.

    If you're wondering
    how compassion looks like
    it would be the tenderness
    in a stranger's gentle touch
    to old, wrinkly hands of the aged,
    all sincere and heartfelt.

    If you will ask me
    how trust is in my eyes
    a Lladro porcelain figurine
    will come to mind,
    precious, unique, priceless,
    once broken,
    seldom regains its allure
    even if mended with gold.

    But then,
    words will merely define
    how one is like inside,
    the real essence
    can't be seen in dreamy eyes,
    only found and touched
    in the midst
    and serenity of one's soul.

    Thank you,@writersnetwork! ������✨

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    If I Were...

  • amsterdam 78w

    Thank you @writersnetwork !������✨

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    4th Post

    Hi. Welcome to my gossip zone.