You may or may not agree with the views, and opinions of the author. However, it doesn’t represent the sentiments of Chesz Dylan and its entirety. The author has all the liability for errors and omissions including the copyright claims and intellectual property rights of this article.
I missed the days when I was courting you The days when I felt like time is so limited Where all I can think of was you, and — we are so inlove, like tentacles wrapped up together.
I missed the day when we became lovers The days we spent alone eating, watching, laying on the floor rolling over Where we were contented with each other’s company and — we just don’t care how time passed by.
I missed the days whenever I go home seeing you in the kitchen, The day when you have that baby bump and cooking, wearing cute mittens Where we will eat together, talking what happened to our days and — we had long conversations while watching television.
I missed the day when the baby was excited to go out The day when I told that angel to wait for me but she didn’t listen. Where she just came out with nothing at all and — we had a rough day because I was only on my way home…
I missed the days when our angel is growing up The days when I had to check her out while playing because we were at the 2nd floor Where she was pushed by a girl her age, I got mad and — we didn’t allow her to play with that little girl again.
I missed the day and regretted that day I had to leave you both for work The day when local job cannot provide our needs. Where I have to leave you with a broken heart and — we have to communicate through calls and text messages.
I missed the day and regretted that day I left The day when our relationship started to fall and there were a lot of temptations Where emotionally I was cold and physically it was freezing in winter and — we had to make it work.
I missed the day and regretted that day that we always had a fight on the phone The days when I have to bring my mobile to work and patch things up Where I have to argue with you because of our lack of communication and — we repeated the cycle over and over.
I missed the day and regretted that day when I went home with nothing The day, a painful day that I wasn’t prepared to leave the foreign land Where I trusted my superior for false hopes and nothing and — we rekindled again at home but the situation was dire for both of us.
I missed the day and regretted that day when I have to leave you again The day when I and our angel became aloof to one another Where no matter what I try, it doesn’t make any sense and — we have to pay the price of me working abroad.
I missed the day and regretted that day when I let you leave for our future The day where I thought we made the right decision because it was our goal Where it created a wall to our relationship, little by little and — we are falling apart making a fool out of each other
I missed the day and forgot the day when I started to question myself The day when I am questioning many things about us that I shouldn’t Where the trust was nowhere to find and — we, or should it be you denying and hiding some things from me
I missed the day and forgot the day when we first created our future The day when your family matters more than our relationship Where both of us, no longer knew each other and — we keep on fighting until I requested it quits.
I missed the day, I no longer know if that day will come again The day when I wanted to do something just to see you Where you keep on making alibis not for me to come and — we or it was just me returned home because of our goals, but I was alone
I don’t miss that day, we became civil to each other and we no longer have a future The day when we were both cold and I don’t know you anymore Where we fought the battle but white flags are waving at both of us and — we never imagined how did it become like this.
I missed …. my old self I missed…. the old you I missed…. us! I missed…. our once happy family. But… I can no longer remember that time. I can no longer remember when, what, how and I forgot myself along the process.
And now.. I don’t know what the future holds for us. I no longer knew you You no longer know me I missed…I don’t know what I miss anymore.
Working in the daytime, tired at night; My weary soul took the yoke from the busy corporate world tonight. "Hush my darling, rest in my arms," said my wife. "Allow me to ease your body pain, you've been working hard your entire life."
At the age of eighteen, I was suddenly committed to a responsibility, A child was born, out of carnal desire and curiosity. We were both young, wild, free and eighteen, Call it a fling, a debauchery or unbridled indulgence of passion.
Caressing my forehead, "Oh what a relief!" I muttered. Her soft hands tapping my head, my heart fluttered; For that brief moment, I felt the warmth of her love, That I am the father of her children, they are the treasures that I have.
A part of me was eaten by the corporate society, Needless to say, I am a nobody to my family. My children grew up and I lose track of time, In the eyes of my children, I feel like I have committed a crime.
The suppposed-to-be-sundays are not our usual family days, From Mondays to Saturdays, I am out and returned to our bed only to lay. Our typical breakfast is a morning race to work, While dinners are past eleven, just sleeping at the nook.
I work so hard, but I feel like dissatisfied and unhappy, Everything was out of place, broken relationships, my life is a mess! I only realized today when people greeted each other a happy father's day, That there was a father in me, that I wasn't able to see.
This is a message to the busy dads, who worked so hard but compromised their family’s relationship. Make a time for your family, especially to your children. They will be only children once, so at least, make the most out of it.
Words created can be a nugget of information. Sometimes cheap, derogatory or a source of transformation.
In the mind of a lyricist, weaving of words is an art, In the mind of a plagiarist, evil grins and contempt resides in his heart.
The magic pen started to write on its own,
Writing block, and blank pages. Aaahh! No more!
The heroes, fairies and monsters came to life.
In the fountain of my imagination, Romeo and Juliet, I brilliantly craft.
I roar like a lion, And rule like the king of Babylon. I can be as weak as the protagonist, Or as fierce as the vilest antagonist. I can be imaginative to all extent, Or make the craziest creative content. I create my world beyond critical, Or doubt myself as cynical.
I am a storyteller, Fusion of romance, adventure and mystery are my specialty. I am a poet, My words are like an arrow piercing hornet. I am a reader, Books and letters caters my greatest hunger. I am a novelist, Who hums and weaves words like a lyricist. I am a writer, I shatter; I make; I devoid and I re-create; Words are in my blood, my passion, my fate. I am a soldier of literature, A poet of realism and fiction– born to endure.
“What am I thinking? He seems familiar, but where could I possibly met him?” My mind wanders thinking about that guy for the entire day. I looked at the wall clock. It was past 3 pm, and our class will be over in a minute. I asked my friend Jessica about the encounter, but even her couldn’t grasp what is in my mind.
“Seriously Eresh, you might be imagining things. Are you sure you know David?” Jessica is acting paranoid than me. “That guy just transferred in our school last semester. How could you feel so intimate towards him in just a short period?”
“I know, right? That’s why I’m telling you this because I’m seriously dead thinking about it the entire day,” tapping my forehead in confusion. “And you’re not helping me either, okey? I think I need to meet him to stop my delusions. God, I hate this!”
After our class, I waited for him at the alley beside the school. I saw him unbuttoned his white polo shirt, and rubbed it on his temples. David smiled, noticing me from a distance.
“Sorry honey, did I make you wait?” he held my right hand, and locked it with his.
I cringed, and immediately distanced myself.
“Honestly, I don’t remember that you and I are in a relationship?” pointing my index finger at him. “How? Since when?”
What he did next was unexpected. He grabbed my hand, pulled me next to him and kissed me. At first it was gentle, and it became intimate. My mind was triggered. Fragments of my memory remembers him, dated from unknown.
“A-ahh!” I shouted in pain. I feel like my head is tearing apart. I found myself crying on my knees. A nostalgic torture.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” David hugged me tight, crying with me. “I don’t know what else to do.”
As soon I was relieved, he assisted me to stand. I saw a number zero deeply engraved on his wrist.
He tried to explain. I couldn’t grasped everything. It was shocking that tears keep on falling from my eyes. Too impossible for me to believe him.
“I died 99 times, and rewrote 99 attempts. It became possible because of this mark you gave. Maybe you had forgotten it, I’m sorry!” he apologized. “Believe me, I tried everything to be with you. Now that it has gone to zero, this is the most painful goodbye for us. But, I want you to remember that I loved you so much, my angel of death, Ereshkigal.”
It has been 6 months when she was confined in the hospital. I was driving the car, when a deer suddenly crossed at the center of the highway. I was shocked so I took a sudden right turn. Unfortunately, a black SUV came rushing at our side, hitting directly the passenger seat where she was sitting. I will never forget how devastated she looked as the blood flowed down her head. I passed out, and saw myself lying at the hospital bed the next day.
“Honey, Belinda, where are you?” I cried out the moment I realized I was lying on the hospital bed.
“Morgan, stay calm.” Rod is hugging me.
“Rod, where is Belinda? I need to see her. I want to see her,” looking helpless to him as tears are flowing on my temple. “Please!”
Nowadays, there are many “so-called” famous young writers. They are products of either a Writing Competition or the Wattpad. But really, are they that good? Or they are just using their influence to gain readers? And the worst? It’s by creating numerous accounts just to create publicity or gain reads (views) in their works.
In a generation where stories have gotten cliched, or copying (knowingly or unknowingly) other’s plot has been in almost every story, one cannot know whether it’s still worth it or not. In an ocean of great books, famous writers, and recycled storylines, how can a mere amateur writer make it to the top? Next to J K. Rowling, Stephen King, Mark Twain, Ernest Hemingway, and so forth. Yes, I heard you. It’s through a gimmick.
I will tell you straight to your face dear, the gimmick is a lame but easiest way to be known. Its success rate depends on two things. First, the gravity of your gimmickry. Some gimmicks of these young writers range from wearing a mask to wearing an all-black, to wearing an eyeglass, to more absurd if not bizarre costumes and the list goes on. Who cares if the story isn’t even worth it, if you can pull off that gimmick, right?
Second, it also depends on your readers. Yes, dear, to make that gimmick successful, you must have a huge following. Take note that it is crucial for an amateur writer to be friendly, and polite to gain readers. Especially the teens, they are mostly your readers. You must always interact with them even with a simple “Hi”, click that “Like” button if you can’t accommodate them. Because if you didn’t, they might think that you are a snob. That for some, it might affect their interest, and eventually, you will lose a follower.
But you see, above all these gimmicks that they are coming up with, they have forgotten the essence of writing a story. A great story reflects the heart of the author. You as a writer are giving away your personality, time, and thoughts to your work. Sadly, the world isn’t fair – so is writing. Readers and writers nowadays are only looking for that “romantic excitement”. They lose that depth in what they write or do. They lose that creative imagination to a point that everything is – shallow.
Gimmick or not, a true writer should still have that heart in his craft. Your writing ability is what matters. Regardless if you don’t have that number of reads your story deserves. Because a great story will be remembered if not now, maybe sometime in the future. Imagine yourself as a famous writer, with a great plot and a simple gimmick to compliment? You can never go wrong! And for that, you deserved my applause.
This is the time when all he can do is to reminisce, The child who was once born, without expectation and premise. Raised by his grandmother with love and affection; Molded with principles, discipline, and commiseration.
Independent even though he needs attention, Reserved and obedient, despite his inner nefarious personification. A child seeking for someone or perhaps something: Yearning and patiently waiting, as the years are passing.
A broken family and a broken identity: Grew in a modern-day concept and infidelity. Brokenness and death struck to the very core of his being; Lost and hopeless – an everyday long-suffering.
Deprived of love, a motherly love; Deprived of a family, he wished he could have. Fleeting years of what could have been a relationship, now just a dream: Somewhere in his mind is hoping and wanting to scream.
Birthdays, graduations, and different occasions; Good tidings and joyful memories in every season. Childhood, puberty, adolescence, and or his existence; Adulthood, fatherhood, and all his experiences.
Fortitude, that what keeps him going: Trusting everything to God, the faith he is believing. A wife and a daughter that mended that great loss and disarray, A love he found, not from a woman who once disowned him and ran away.
As he is creating this sonnet or perhaps a prosody; He is contemplating from his heart, a familiar rhapsody. Some things may have come out great and some came out tragic, But it was all a ride, and life decisions never to be apologetic.
The chapters of his life may have found their direction, But still, the least part of his identity wanted a resolution. This is just a reflection that could have been a perfect melody, But this is just a ballad, a lyric from his heart; from a son who came from a broken family.
Have you experienced a time wherein your mind was like in a total blank? Where you can’t think of any ideas or have run out of words to say? Or perhaps, you’re just staring at your blank sheet of paper or word document and not a single idea ever crossed your mind? Probably, it’s either you are experiencing a Writer’s Block, or a Blank Page Syndrome.
What is the difference of the two? Actually, they are both similar in terms of description. However, Writer’s Block deals more in psychological aspects, whereas the latter has no symptoms at all.
Writer’s Block happens mostly to writers. It is a condition wherein, you are unable to think or come up with an idea for your story or article. It could be because you lack inspiration, you are distracted, you are stressed or due to a creative problem within your work.
Inspiration is one of the important factors in writing a story. It is where you create your plot, the twists, and sometimes (if not oftentimes), it affects the ending of your story. Your inspiration could come from your relationship, your idol or mentor and your favorite book, movie or anime. It could also be based on your surroundings and your habits.
People get distracted most of the times. And for a writer, it could cause a delay or slow pace in your story. Not that you don’t need it for a break. The problem of distraction is, when it’s diverting your goal, attention or your time, instead of focusing on your story. All writers need things to be done with a deadline.
Some serious reasons, why writers are encountering Writer’s Block, is due to stress. Stress than can lead to serious physical illnesses and depressions. You run out of idea because your mental condition is unstable. Or you are suffering from a migraine that hinders your thought to process information. You cannot think because of the pressure in your work, pressure in your relationship and pressure in your surroundings. You are comparing your story to those now-famous writers who were once on your league. And most especially, you are stress because of the deadline. This stress could cause hiatus, if you didn’t response to it immediately.
Another issue that most writers are unaware of is, the problem in your story itself. All writers wants a compelling stories that will motivate their readers. Because we think of many ideas and thoughts, we ended up with plot holes that oftentimes, we don’t know how to connect those ideas in our story.
Unlike Writer’s Block, the Blank Page Syndrome is indicated by not having an idea from the beginnning. It could probably have something to do with your mood, so you can’t think of anything to write. It’s also because you lack in sleep, so your mind is wandering or not functioning at that time. And you are just staring at a blank page, and you completely forgot what you’re supposed to write.
Either of these two, could take from short-term or long term loss of ideas and thoughts. But, in order to avoid Writer’s Block and Blank Page Syndrome, you should have thought about it from the beginning. Write on a paper or type on your word document the plot, the characters, the settings and the supposed-to-be ending of your story. That way, you can still trace, organize and connect your stories if you came up with a new idea. Take a break, like travel somewhere or take a short stroll at the park. What you perceived around you could contribute to your story. Engage yourself in free writing and brainstorming. Sometimes, making a new story will refresh your mind and create new ideas and plot twists. And lastly, read any stories or articles and watch any, if not new, movies or animes.
In general, it’s inevitable as all writers have experienced and or experiencing one of these. The question would be, how are you coping up with your Writer’s Block or Blank Page Syndrome?