What Am I?

What Am I?

i come in many forms
i could be a he, a she, an it
unexpected time when i propose
of brilliant masterpiece
you just go for it.

i come in many forms
i could be your greatest inspiration
yet a source of desperation
when i decide to go off grid
off the hook.

a bestfriend for some
an illusion for others
one important thing though
your imagination would be empty
without me.

🌹For David’s Weave Written Weekly

Brandon’s prompt guidelines

Riddle me this… I would like to you to compose a riddle or “puzzle” poem. J.R.R. Tolkien included several in his novels, as did Lewis Carroll. Emily Dickinson wrote several riddles in poetic form as well. Here is a link defining “riddle”: https://poets.org/glossary/riddle

There are no restrictions on length or rhyme. You can give the answer at the end of your poem, or to make it a little more fun, allow readers to try to guess the answer. You can also provide the answer within your poem. Have fun!

🌹voting for SPILLWORDS PRESS 2022 AWARDS is still open. i would be glad if you could head over the link and vote for my poem “LOVE HAPPENS” as Publication of the Year (Poetic). 

kindly find the link below to vote.

Hi There…

hi there, let’s talk over a cup of hot salted caramel macchiato.

it has been a while since i get a little personal here with you guys. so here i am, checking in. how are you? i hope that January has been kind to all of you. i pray that February will be more forgiving. but whatever happens, life goes on. i read somewhere someone says “when life gives you a shit, cultivate it with dreams and hopes.” may we never lose track of our dreams and hopes despite life’s complexities and intricacies.

me? January is almost over, and so many things happened in just one month. 

the much-awaited anthology by Gabriela Marie Milton, is now #1new release on Amazon. my poems were included as part of this anthology. “Hidden in Childhood” is a publication of Literary Revolutions. this is just wonderful. another best-seller book for me. now, i’m off to update my bio with another best-selling poetry anthology.

i’ve had two poems published on MasticadoresUsa by Barbara Harris Leonhard; “Breathe” (January 12) and “Peace” (January 27).

“My Body Aches More Than My Heart” was published by Terveen Gil on MasticadoresIndia last January 10.

my New Year poem “2023, Our Year” was published on Spillwords Press last January 3 as part of its New Year opening salvo. the poem became the #1 popular post on Spillwords for over a week. 

and of course, as you all know it, “Love Happens” was Spillwords December Publication of the Month and is now up for the title “Publication of the Year (poetic). this piece is up against other stunning pieces written by brilliant poets from different parts of the world. i am truly honored and humbled to see my poem alongside these wonderful pieces; that alone feels like winning already. 

i have other submissions which were already set to be published by February.

voting for SPILLWORDS PRESS 2022 AWARDS is still open. i would be glad if you could head over the link and vote for my poem “LOVE HAPPENS” as Publication of the Year (Poetic). 

kindly find the link below to vote.

January has been so kind to me and my poetry. with this, i say thank you to all the editors and publishers who believe in my poetry.

thank you, too, my dearest friends, readers, followers, and fellow poets; you never failed to amaze me with your love and support.

“Peace” by Michelle Navajas

My poem, “Peace” is up now on MasticadoresUsa. I would like to thank Barbara, the editor for publishing my poem and for believing in my works.

Please head over MasticadoresUsa to read the full poem. I would love to hear your insights about the poem so don’t forget to leave your thoughts in the comment section.

Subscribe to MasticadroesUsa to get full access of its daily dose of literary pieces from brilliant poets all over the world.

voting for SPILLWORDS PRESS 2022 AWARDS is still open. i would be glad if you could head over the link and vote for my poem “LOVE HAPPENS” as Publication of the Year (Poetic). here is the link to vote: kindly find the link below to vote.

thank you so much to all those have voted already.
my love and gratitude to each of you always and forever.

MasticadoresUsa // Editor: Barbara Leonhard

and just when you thought solitude
is what you need to live and survive
what if, it’s but a mere illusion?

in fact,

there isn’t stillness in seclusion?
there isn’t freedom in liberation?
there isn’t hope in ambition?

‘cos, no matter what you do

the war is in your head
the rage is in your soul
the inferno is in your heart

and, peace is just

a product of your imagination
a manufactured information 
a fabricated deception

go, fight

the demon in your head
the evil under your bed
the culprit that said

“you are not good enough and you will never be”

accept the challenge

spring up. climb.
rise up. grow.

prove them all wrong.

unlock your fullest potential.

Copyright © 2022 Michelle Navajas
Rights Reserved

Michelle has authored eight books“After – Rain Skies: A Million Stars”for Perak Women for Women Society (PWW), Ipoh, Perak Malaysia, during…

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God (A Flash Fiction)

God (A Flash Fiction)

i live in one of the most affluent subdivisions in the city, where you would rub elbows with the richest of the rich and see eye-to-eye with influential people in politics and even in the entertainment industry. the area is 16 hectares of mixed-use shopping, residential, and leisure development. they say it is where the “ultra-rich and famous” lived.

country-inspired living meets the pleasures of city life is what our place is very much known. it provides refreshing amenities that include a freeform tropical-style leisure pool, landscaped pool deck with lounge area, children’s playground, fitness gym, shower rooms with lockers, and a multipurpose clubhouse.

some luxurious residential condominiums and towers offer generous floor layouts and incomparable views of the city. stories have it that one unit alone is bigger than the typical townhouses sold in the neighboring areas. 

it is where pets such as dogs and cats flaunt their most expensive Gucci, Prada, and Louis Vuitton necklaces or pet accessories. you would be in awe at how lovely they look. some even say their pet carriage is even more expensive than that of a price a four-seater Hyundai Accent car.

one morning i was tasked to pick up a document from a local government agency i needed for my Visa application. someone told me that i should take the shortcut route to that agency instead of taking the usual private car ride. why? they say the traffic is terrible around this time, so it’s best to walk.

i took the narrow alley, which was made available for non-residents who work within the area; they need to present their company identification cards to enter; otherwise, they won’t be able to use the access alley.

there’s no other way to say it, but i was about to enter a slum area, to my surprise. there are informal settlers with inadequate housing and squalid, miserable living conditions. it’s overcrowded, with many people crammed into tiny living spaces. i bet the garage and dog house of some houses from where i am is bigger than the tiny homes here. i bet, too, one Louis Vuitton pet necklace is more expensive than a small house in this slum area. and i bet again, one dinner from bill of a fine restaurant from my place is undoubtedly more enormous than the monthly income of the head of the family here. and not to mention that these two areas are walls apart, a ten-minute walk via the shortcut alley. 

i saunter towards my destination with a heavy heart and a mind full of life’s lessons and realizations.

the disparity of life,” i sighed in silence with a drop of tear, looking at a happy little kid in dirty muddy clothing running towards me asking for money for food. 

where is your mother?” i asked the kid.

i don’t know, maybe out somewhere selling sampaguita garlands to rich people like you,” she replied. 

i wanted to say i am just like her and that there is no difference between rich and poor in the eyes of God or even move further with me, giving my unsolicited advice that she should study hard to be able to live a decent life someday, but i was taken aback when she said, “maybe, we live in a world where no Gods exist.” she said further, “but if there’s God Madam, please tell him to give me some good food for dinner later.”

Written for Reena’s exploration challenge using the phrase “You live in a world where no Gods exist.”

voting for SPILLWORDS PRESS 2022 AWARDS is still open. i would be glad if you could head over the link and vote for my poem “LOVE HAPPENS” as Publication of the Year (Poetic). here is the link to vote: kindly find the link below to vote.

“Love Happens” – Spillwords Publication of the Year Nominee

 i am grateful and honored to have my poem “Love Happens” nominated as Spillwords Publication of the Year 2022 (Poetic)

kindly find the link below to vote.
https://spillwords.com/vote/

“You have received this email because you have been nominated in one or more of our categories for ‘Spillwords Press Awards’ for the year 2022.

Congratulations to all on your nominations, and we look forward to celebrating the winners throughout the month of February.

VOTING will be officially held from January 26th – January 31st on our voting page: https://spillwords.com/vote/

Please note, you need to register and/or login to vote.”

P. S.

congratulations too, to my fellow  nominees.

Infinite (A Flash Fiction)

Infinite (A Flash Fiction)

i wonder how one mistake could end one great thing, such as love.

it was a bit gloomy, though the sun was up. i could hear the honking of the cars from where i was. i could smell my neighbor baking fresh bread. there was chaos around; a nanny was heard screaming and running after the baby she was paid to take care of and the intercom in each unit was ringing loudly. at some point, i could hear myself screaming, “answer that damn intercom,” ” give the baby something  sweet to eat so she will stop crying and running.”

oh, well, i didn’t scream it out loud, though. i’m not like that. i’m used to just keeping things to myself.

so when you came ranting about me not telling you what happened the other day, i shrugged my shoulders. it was something i didn’t want to tell. well, for one, it wasn’t as if it would change the course of time or affect the country’s economic situation (just kidding, though).

seriously, i was imitating you, what you do and how you do things; you don’t tell me, you don’t talk to me. you always let things happen and allow me to find it out myself, and when i do, i have no right to even question you; i need to understand the situation.

oh, well, what now? looks like we are even. at least you know how i feel about not knowing things and being blindsided all the time.

and for the record, i tried to understand you with all humility. i wouldn’t say i liked the thought, i was not too fond of the situation, and i hated the idea, but never was there a time that i assassinated your character by lambasting you on a personal “below the belt” level.

but you did to me. you said things beyond my imagination. you accused stuff beyond my comprehension. and most importantly, you said, “we’re done, i am cutting off my ties with you.”

i must say, i wasn’t surprised at all. you did that many times. not once, not twice, not thrice, many times. i couldn’t keep track anymore.

and despite me not being surprised, i was hurt.

i know my mistake, and i am sorry. but it does not involve me being a slut, as you call it.

i stopped arguing and stopped explaining.

one thing i’ve realized, though, is the love you call infinite or limitless ends the moment i make a mistake.

Cry (A Poetic Flash Fiction)

Cry (A Poetic Flash Fiction)

“i wonder how service personnel in a 5-star restaurant feel about serving the best food, yet unable to provide the same to their own families?”

i saw you raised your eyebrows with my question.

“i also wonder how bank tellers feel counting money every day when their problem is lack of money?”

your eyes widened as your forehead narrowed.

 “i admire your imagination and your compassion and empathy for people.” you finally said.

“i wonder ‘though, did you ever think of me when you left me broken, hurt, and devastated?”

i didn’t see that coming. i didn’t realize that even after all those years, you still remember the day i left you without the much needed explanation.

i didn’t realize that you are still hurting. i could actually feel the hurt in each word as you uttered them.

your words ushered me back to a doorway to the past. i could almost see your eyes in suppressed tears as I said my goodbye. i could see your blood oozing out of your face, for it has turned bloody red.

and for the first time, i saw your look of pain and agony, the looked i failed to know because i had just walked away.

i walked away and never looked back.

i didn’t see you cry.

but you did.

Phone Call

Phone Call (A Poetic Flash Fiction)

sometimes a minute is what we need to change our lives for the better forever. sometimes, it’s just a second of receiving a phone call unexpectedly.

“hello,” was all i could say when i heard you speak, “how are you?” on the other end of the line.

i knew it was you (even without asking). your voice hasn’t changed a bit. your tone hasn’t changed either. and oh, your sarcasm, it’s still the same. it has never changed too.

we started with a simple “how’s life” to exchange stories of how’s life has been since you walked away (or maybe, you were right; i walked away). either way, though, the truth is we both lost each other.

how long has it been? so long.

what i thought would be a simple “hi, hello” one-minute phone call turned out to be 30 minutes, then an hour, and before we knew it, it was as if there wasn’t over two decades of gap between now and then.

there wasn’t a need to catch up and get to know each other again. there wasn’t a need for some time to reconnect and bridge the gap. it was as if yesterday when i spoke to you last. but in reality, it was over two decades.

where am i goin’ with this? you probably will ask.

well, this is me saying, i am grateful for this phone call. i am thankful for this opportunity. i appreciate that you took a chance on me this time.  

no matter what happens and where life has taken us, we choose to return to where and how we started.

for Reena’s exploration challenge

There Goes The Broken Car

There Goes The Broken Car

whose car is that? i think i know.
its owner is quite sad though.
it really is a tale of woe.
i watch him frown. i cry hello.

he gives his car a shake,
and sobs until the tears make.
the only other sounds the break,
of distant waves and birds awake.

the car is old, broken and deep,
but he has promises to keep,
until then he shall not sleep,
he lies in bed with ducks that weep.

he rises from his bitter bed,
with thoughts of sadness in his head.
he idolizes being dead,
facing the day with never ending dread.

at first i wasn’t sure if i will dive myself into this prompt. i haven’t used any of these online websites in writing not even with simply rhyming words. i’m not even aware they exist. but, well here i am and i had fun🤭🤭🤭

This week David has shared the POW, Denise DeVries’s great poem ‘Generation Gap’, https://skepticskaddish.com/2023/01/18/w3-prompt-38-weave-written-weekly/

Denise’s prompt is to write the first line of our poem using a word generator, followed by between 2 and 18 lines of our own – great idea!

I used the Poem generator for my first line, https://www.poem-generator.org.uk/

That Summer

That Summer

i am the wind that gushes through your window.

i am the heat that warms up your cold errie evening.

i am the big-eyed owl that watches over you in the darkest of nights.

i am the dancing leaves that dries up quickly upon your window pane.

i am the poetry that triggers your deepest memory.

i am the exquisite dish that suits the taste of your palate.

i am the novel that makes you agonize at night for reading but not wanting to end.

i am the song that lulls you to sleep but gives you nightmare after.

i am the movie that makes you smile yet cry at the same time.

i am those and many more but i chose to abandon you that summer.

For Eugi’s