04: Moonlight Race

Tonight I gaze into the twilight sky,

observing the moon way up high.

Its light, a peaceful glow,

calms all that shelters below.

The pale radiance fills my sight

as it pierces through the velvet night.

How it promenades with the stars above,

laughing and dancing like fairies in love.

Suddenly a change in pace,

across the heavens it does race.

The moon, Luna's chariot, quickly flies,

moving to the distant horizon before my eyes.

So close now the mood does seem

as the sky awakens from night's dream.

Darkness is now fading ever so slow

as the aura of day begins to glow.

The horizon's so near but not quite there;

the moon wanes as the sun ignites the air.

Through morning mist the moon disappears,

so far from its goal yet still so near.

03: Contemplations

Is this world a true reality
or is it all just a dream?
Are we to dwell in a fantasy
and to live as we deem?
The sky above and the earth below
forever seem unchanged.
Yet of this world we know
time makes all things estranged.
All things are relative in the mind;
good and bad, black and white.
Concrete truths are hard to find:
How dark is dark, how light is light?
Now try to ponder this
on why we all exist.
Ah! how ignorance can be bliss
as thoughts hide in fog and mist.
A final contemplation I confer to you,
a riddle of ancient philosophies.
To each person there's another view,
adding to this enigma of mysteries.
Is this world ruled by destiny
and free will a mere illusion?
What is thy notion on the powers that be?
Your answers determine thy conclusion.

02: Sonnet I

There is a place beyond the mists of time,

a realm far older than the days of yore.

Few laid eyes on a domain so sublime,

as it hides from us in mythical lore.

Its sandy beaches greet the shining sea;

with a zephyr the golden sun does rise,

beaming its warm gentle light unto thee.

So welcomes the dawn of this paradise.

Exotic plants and trees this place contains,

where birds of nature sip the evening dew.

Here, their siren song no person disdains,

a thought known to many yet sensed by few.

Many things - illusions - this place does seem,

strange yet whimsical as if from a dream.

01: Unspoken Thoughts

These thoughts flow from me,
as they cannot be contained.
They are whispers in my mind, unspoken
and unheard by an indifferent world.

To cease the endless chatter,
they are given art and form.
I shall make them manifest
with poetry as their medium.

Now they shall not be forgotten,
though still unspoken and unheard.
Read them as they are within,
and see my thoughts - my legacy.

Under the Shadow of Leaves

Leaves by *Satan-angel-Kat on deviantART

Under the Shadow of Leaves is collection of poems that stems from an older unfinished work, Unspoken Thoughts, that I began in high school. What I began then I hope to finish here. These poems reflect my thoughts and style, and so it will be interesting to see how they progress through time.

There is no real cohesion between the poems. Most are separate and independent from the others. There are poems on my thoughts, poems of my imagination, poems on observations of the world, and probably more. They may not always make sense, they may not always have form, and they may be written in naivete (perhaps more so in the earlier works), but they are genuine.

So enjoy the journey that has already taken years, with many pit-stops along the way. And at the end of its days, I shall sit on a bench under a tree, and bask under the shadow of leaves.

2003 - present

Hours to Dawn

I write this past midnight, just hours to dawn. It has been over a year and a half since I last posted here. This blog has lain dormant and asleep for far too long.

It is time. It is time for a revival, a resurrection. It is time for this blog to wake just hours to dawn. Both new and old shall be added. Things on the shelves, destined by time to become dust, shall be re-written and hopefully read.

I have encountered an impasse with Passacaglia - that damned writer's block - for too long. Doubtless Passacaglia will resume, though chapters probably won't be released as often as I'd hope. I may start one or two other novels/books, though the likelihood of them ever reaching publication here is still tentative. Most prominent will be Under the Shadow of Leaves - a collection of my old, current, and future poems.

I'll take things as they come. As always, "dolce non agitato."

Chapter 02: Water

Eyes closed, feeling the water rush and flow over her body, listening to the sound of falling water and the waves . . . she smiled at the memory. She opened her eyes to find herself still standing in the shower with the warm water falling over her tanned body. She always loved taking showers because they reminded her of her childhood spent near the ocean and the waterfalls that she played in with her little brother. But that was a world removed – one they had left many long years ago.

She stepped out of the shower, dried off, and put a towel around herself as she brushed her teeth. She quickly dashed to her room to grab some clothes to put on, passing her brother’s room on the way. Toothbrush in mouth, she pulled out a blue summer skirt and a nice shirt to match. After getting dressed, she dashed back to the bathroom to put her towel away and rinse her mouth with water. On her way out she paused briefly at her brother’s door, listening to him snoring lightly as she slowly brushed her long black hair. Sighing deep with relief, she bounced into the kitchen to grab herself a little snack.

She took an apple from the fruit basket sitting on the counter and began to munch on it. Then she sat on the old ugly blue-grey couch in her living room and looked at the clock. 9:30 A.M. Her mom had already gone to work and she still had about an hour before she met up with the others for brunch at the café. Finishing her apple, she went quietly to her room and pulled out her instrument case from under her bed. She grabbed a chair and plopped it in front of her music stand where sheets of music littered the carpet.

She gingerly took out her instrument, running her fingers across the four strings. Lifting it out and setting it on her shoulder, it looked like an oversized violin. Make no mistake, it was no violin. “No, it’s a viola!” as any violist would rightly say. She closed her eyes, not needing to read the sheet music scattered about. She let the music flow from her mind down through her left arm to the ends of her fingertips and instinctively pressed down on the strings silently with her left hand, feeling the waves of each note in her head. Her actual viola part was largely uninteresting (the curse of being a violist), but even so, she could hear the sounds of the other instruments and how hers melded in harmoniously.

Not wanting to become too lost in the music, she abruptly opened her eyes to see what time it was. Her pinky, still caught in the spell of the silent notes, accidentally plucked the thinnest string – the A string – causing a distinct ping to resound. She quickly wrapped her left hand over the strings, holding them firmly against the black fingerboard of her instrument’s neck and suffocating the sound as she didn’t want to wake her brother.

She held her viola close to her chest as she looked out her bedroom window. It seemed nice outside – sunny, mostly blue sky, it seemed so warm and inviting. A smile crept at the corner of her mouth. She sat there for a few minutes, taking in the day that had just started. She then swiftly put her viola away in its case and gathered the scattered music, stuffing the loose sheets in a pocket on the side of her case. She grabbed a light blue jacket from her closet and put it on while walking out of her room, case in hand. She closed her bedroom door quietly, carefully – almost reflexively – listening to her brother’s light snoring. I’m probably worrying too much, she told herself.

With a tiny bounce in her step, she walked to the front door, grabbing a set of house-keys from the clay bowl on the counter. She looked down at her watch as she locked the door behind her. 10:01 A.M. She had about half an hour. She paused for a moment before deciding to walk instead of riding her bike. It truly was a nice day anyway. The café was not too far and she could take her time to enjoy the walk.

She relished the warmth of the morning sun and the light breeze on her skin. She felt the shifting temperatures when she walked under the shadows of tall trees. Breathing in the cool shade, she could feel it fill her lungs before flowing to the rest of her body. When the “coolness” reached the ends of her limbs, she gave a small yet satisfying shiver. She could see the end of her modest neighborhood coming up. Where it ended, the city proper began. Soon she was walking past the little flower shop where she had worked for many years. She had many fond memories of the place and its owner.

She rounded a corner and saw the main city hospital. An ambulance was just rolling in. She immediately froze, a brief flash washing over her body in worry and fear. She shook it off and kept walking, a bit faster until she rounded the next corner past the hospital. That one bad memory stuck in her head, causing her heartbeat to quicken. She wanted to get past it, but the hospital – that hospital – kept bringing it back. It had been months already since the incident, but it haunted her still. She stared at the ground a bit as she walked until she reached the next corner.

The café was just around this next corner. She looked at her watch. 10:30 A.M. Jason would probably already be there. She looked up and down the street, near the outdoor tables and chairs in front of café, there stood Jason just as she predicted. She felt uplifted at seeing him, and let out a smile while breaking into a light jog while waving. She saw a smile creep across his face and wave in response. Within a minute she had caught up and stood before him, still smiling.

“Hola Jason!” she said in a slightly Spanish-accented voice. “How are you? On time as always. You’re so dependable.” She smiled widely and gave a little laugh.

Jason exhaled a playful sigh. “Hey, that’s who I am. Dependable, like a rock.” He looked back down at his cell phone. He looked up, meeting her eyes with a placid gaze. “They’re late.”

“I’m sure they will be here soon,” she said of the two violinists in their quartet. “We’re just early by their time. You know how them violins are, always thinking the world revolves around ’em or something.”

Jason sighed again, then suddenly looked up. “Wha-” she began to say . . .

“Esperanza,” whispered a deep voice next to her as she felt a finger poke her in the side. She yelped and jumped a foot in the air. She heard a rich laugh behind her as she frowned and turned to meet her poker.