Book by Peculiarczar

To me, you were this new interesting book right off the bookstore, you were on the bookshelves and no one would bother to look at you, only a few hungry souls who is in love with underrated beauty. The scent of the new lingers through my very veins, and I couldn't wait to read it. As I was reading the book, I tried to guess what's going to happen next but, at the same time I was having a good read. As I engage in every page I find it hard to move to the next but, I wanted to read more...sometimes, I would even reread the page. Now, In that book, you weren't the pages one to ten, or twenty or one hundred. To me you were more like a series, and in that series I would crave for the next book and the next. To me, that's what it's like to be with you, an exciting read that I come back to that I sometimes sleep next to the book as I smile on my slumber. You were the book that keeps my imagination alive, that gives me hope and makes me enter a new dimension, in which only we can understand. The simple text that is so much more than a font in black and white. You were a complex context into which my mind gets coiled but, If I comprehend further I will understand. It was fun with you, the pixie dust for every page turned, the herd of unknown creatures hopping, galloping on the meadow of my mind, the lake of vocabulary and the presence of enchantment that you gave to me. The beguile messages continue to haunt me, leaving me in puzzles unsolved, bridges not crossed, sentences undone and a thousand paths mistaken. It's hilarious how I continue to read even if I know something wicked is going to happen and, as we all know wicked has two meanings. Now what happens when something hinders my reading? perhaps, school work or an abundance or other important matters. It's the same feeling when you wait for another season of your favourite TV show, or when you're waiting for your name to be called for a recitation, that agonizing moment that squishes your very soul, it's like your internal organs are being compressed together making it hard for you to breathe. Being without you feels like, there is a vacant space in my chest, like there's an abandoned library waiting to be refilled with bookworms, a pause in the movie that I'm watching, a unchecked event on my bucket list and, a book that wasn't finished.

In Between

In between matcha and chocolate was coffee, you were the coffee who keeps me up at night but, I take you up anyway. In between the waves and the ocean floor is the calm water, you were the calm water, that in between the ground and the roars, you were the boundary that kept the world in balance. In between the two different stores, you were the hall, you brought me to different peaks in such a small world. In between the song and the music, you were the silent melody, I hear you the most when I don't understand anything at all. Now, you were in between the hello's and goodbye's, not being entirely sure where you stand nearer. Is it hello? or Is it goodbye? or are those two indefinite to you? . You were standing in between the stars and the grass, are you reaching for the stars or are you comfortable with the lawn? . To me, you were both the stars and the lawn, the stars as guide to a lost adventurer and the lawn to keep me comfort when I'm fatigued. You were standing in between the door of the building and the fire, you were both the door and the fire, the door as an exit to a new beginning, the fire that I kept on burning inside of me, not the one that I'm playing with. You were in between my hands and the void, you could either hold my hand or disappear completely. You were in between the writer and the reader, you were the context that keeps them thinking and guessing what's next? what's in store? but to both of them, you were different. You see, the writer knows you more as you were in between her reality and her expectations which defies the one with the reader. But, the reader fell in love with you more because you sound so perfect, yet sometimes she curses at you when you make mistakes such as let her slip of your fingers, like the soft kiss of glitters which still leaves some of it's remains in your palms. The reader screams at you because in between the lines she read, she knows there's so much more, she knows that you were about to do something and she can't stop you, because she's just a reader. In between her crystal tears and the text of despondence, Is a blissful wish that you should've done it the other way around. In between the letters Y and I, is the letter U, and here I am thinking " Why on earth did I meet you?" .  Lastly, In between every " I should've have met you" and " I should've have gone the other way" is " You were the best thing that ever happened to me".

19 Na Tula Para Kay Fidel by Peculiarczar ( 100 Na Tula Para Kay Stella )

I would say that this is out of the blue, with the thin chances of winning the book by Jason Paul Laxamana, which is yung 100 na tula para kay Stella, isang napaka stellar na movie, I liked the compositions, the story line and the character line up, it was a good movie and it was realistic compared to the other lovey dovey stories. Panalo talaga saakin yung line ni fidel na " Ako din naman eh" kasi nga nandoon din naman sya para kay Stella, and the actors were on point nadin haha. And, Stella's " Ilang salita ba kailangan mo?" . Anyways Viva Films is holding a contest , where you submit a poem with a theme of, what would you write if you were in love with Fidel. So, that night I was too sad to write something about love, or loving a fictional character because I lost a very close friend of mine, I tried to write poems and I asked my friends to view them and see if they are okay. My poems suck, but I submitted it anyways...just because, what are the odds?

The next day, I was challenged...by me, haha, it was more of a suggestion that came from my friends to write more and so I did, I started as 6 poems then I was aiming for seventeen poems, cause I like the numbers that end with seven but, one of my friends suggested me to do 19 poems since, I'm nineteen years old haha, and so I finished with 19 poems for Fidel.