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I saw you not seventeen hours away,

speaking in a tongue like mine.

Our distance tracked stories. Arranged

these talks, thoughts, and minds.

Our silent laughters on the screen,

reminiscent of golden dialogues.

Words appeared while changing scenes,

of a friendship echoed from our blogs.

In these lines I hoped to say,

a humble greeting in a corny rhyme.

Holly Jahangiri, happy birthday,

a late poem to bring you smile in twelve lines.

Photo credits to russelljsmith

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Surrounded by an eager crowd,

the stage fell silent.

Words came out of the blue screen

as the music started playing.

A chill of uncertainty mocked

the trepidation

underneath the brave face,

his throat scorched with flames

of a desert sun.

Time slowed to inhuman length

as each millisecond

tortuously passed. Anxious eyes

bore through the flicker of his spirit.

When the note hit the cue

and his voice was heard,

the throng was stupefied

and hushed.

Wonder and esteem

tore the air of disbelief

as the melody blended with the music.

His song was their food

and the audience was satisfied

to their heart’s content.

Image credit to Xristoforos aka Shooting Dog

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A calm surfaced
along the coastal towns,
The wind knew the news
ahead of everyone.
A tunnel of angst built from within,
that ripples of waves
were about to fall in.
Silence.
The uneasy seconds
fell like hammer,
The wave came
listless and sweeping.
Further restlessness fell
in the shadow of nature’s wrath.

Photo credits to h.koppdelaney

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Confusion lead directions to nowhere,

as reasons tried to find the proper path.

I stumble in a fray of mixed emotions,

sorted through my own intimate wrath.

My stories told of secret feelings,

of lover’s passion not knowing when to show.

Only when my memories left bits of clues,

did this unassuming mind finally know.

Distance and decisions taunt and hurt,

only time could witness, time could test.

These unfulfilled emotions ignited,

souls that met in a paradise, unrest.

WOOF Contest – Top Picks

Poetry

Jena Isle – “A Tryst on Valentine’s Day” – Being so in love is heaven.

Roy – “Candles, not flowers” – A valentine poem?

Prose / Memoir

Ajchtar – “Tales & Diary of Moccureed” – The ravings of a 17 yr old., aspiring to become a writer.

Roy – “She will be 80 next month” – A request for prayer.

Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay “Intervention”

Photo credits to racheygriff

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Love songs breathe emotions,

that bear the weight of a forgotten feeling.

Reminiscent of a silent urge to fall,

in the shadow of a grateful meandering.

No sound is louder than the thumping,

of this gentle fist-sized muscle.

A lub-dub with a rapid thud,

then slows down to a bustle.

Yet, the fear of falling,

hinders this childish stubborn nature.

Well, it’s time to take a deep breath,

Take a plunge to this familiar adventure.

Photo credits to Flowery L*u*z*a*

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When does “I love you” mean “I love you?”
Was it from your unspoken gestures?
Was it from the thoughtfulness in your smiles?
What does “I love you” mean to you?

The beauty of the words signify my heart’s desire,
an ever hoping cry, a desperate call to be alive.
The frequent solitude of a restless heart,
denies no sadness, but welcomes goodbyes.

A strain of thought that torments this time,
that you and I shared in a troubled while.
Have I awakened a dormant emotion,
perhaps hoping you could be mine.

When does “I love you” mean hello?
When does I love you” mean goodbye?

WOOF Contest – Top Picks

Fiction / Short Story

Zorlone – “Well Played” – Life is a game. How well did you play?

Memoirs / True Story

Khaye-Mydette Sy Cardenas – “Abroad is in the heart” – How winters melt the heart.

Poetry

Dragon Blogger – “Royal Ball” – Poem about a grand ball with a feast.

Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay “Intervention”

(WOOF participants should re-post all the links above by next Monday. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top posts as chosen by the February 5, 2010 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends February 12. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 3 weeks using the form on this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.

Other Contest Entrants for 02/05/10

Memoirs / True Story

JHS – “It Was Always About Fairness and Equality” – How my mother’s obsession with fairness and equality for and among her children led to absurd results . . . and my career as a civil rights attorney.

Ajchtar – “Ten Commandeements” – A 17 year old’s experience 5 yrs. ago.

Fiction / Short Story

Jenn – “Opportunity (Part Two)” – The story of an abusive relationship, & the sister who must come to her sibling’s aid, continues.

.

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Complications best speak loudly,

like sirens of firetrucks in pursuit.

Ever announcing listless tragedies,

of feeble minds and dull recruits.

Foreshadows of impending doom,

a graveyard of broken words.

Silently crawling in the loom,

of the meek hearts and troubled herds.

Restless hearts betrayed, despised,

ghostly whispers of revenge.

This gloomy sky of feverish size,

that complications left, blood-tinged.

Photo credits to Chewy Chua

“You son of a b*tch! That was an excellent shot!”  Ricky complimented Arthur, after the latter made a crosscourt drop shot to the other team.

They were paired in a badminton match. It was the finals and their game was the last one.

The score was 16- 11 and their opponents were ahead of them in the third set of the game. Ricky thought they had the advantage since Arthur was a veteran player, but Arthur was preoccupied, and the shot he made was just a lucky one.

Ricky knew that they might not win since Arthur kept thinking about a debt that he recently acquired. Arthur’s head was not in the game.

“Sixteen all,” shouted the referee. It almost felt like they were about to win. Despite the lack of focus, shot after shot, Arthur was on fire, whopping the ball home.

“Good eyes!” Ricky shouted as Arthur stopped himself from hitting the shuttlecock that fell outside the line.

Arthur acknowledged his partner by raising his badminton racket in the air towards him, but it was the dreadful look in his eyes that made Ricky’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. Arthur’s eyes reflected the torment that he was in.

The score was tied again at 20-20, the last and deciding point was at hand. Arthur told Ricky that he’d start with a short service to force the opponent to hit the shuttlecock in the air. This would provide a good hit for Ricky.

Ricky’s eyes hurt from the brackish, painful torture of his sweat, and his throat was scorching dry from the long rallies that they had. It was the calmness of Arthur that he drew courage from. At the back of his mind, betting in a match wasn’t that bad, after all, he was sure of his partner. He swore to himself that he’d give his earnings to Arthur.

When Arthur released the shuttlecock towards their opponents, instead of returning the ball ‘long,’ their opponent made a drop shot, Arthur on the other hand, made a cross court counter-drop. Their opponent was then forced to return the ball to them with a counter drop.

Watching the almost reflex like movements of Arthur made Ricky concentrate harder because the ball could reach his direction at any moment. The last drop of their opponent forced Arthur to return the ball long. It was what their opponent waited for. One of them jump-smashed the ball to his direction.

Ricky was not caught off guard and he was prepared.  He smashed the ball hard bringing it back to the other court in a long arc. The ball bounced back instantly as the other opponent’s teammate deftly hit the ball back.

Like a cobra, Arthur raised his racket the instant the ball crossed the net. The shuttle cock fell just inches away from the net.

Arthur was no longer distraught, he was focused on the movements of the other team. For the first time, his worries were washed away and his body moved like the graceful athlete that he was.

When the ball was about to hit the ground, one of their opponents dove in and caught the shuttlecock, but it flew and with a miscalculation, headed towards Ricky’s direction, who was ready to smash.

Ricky raised his right hand over his head and milliseconds away from his strike, he thought of the debt that Arthur carried and how his heart crumpled from the thought that his own best friend and god-father of his eldest son, would suffer the torment in paying that amount.

The ball was in a perfect position, and he smashed it with all of his might.

The game ended.

Minutes after the match, Arthur’s sober face greeted him. “Hey, buddy, that was a perfect smash.”

“Thanks, but I know you set it up for me,” Ricky replied knowing too well how his friend plays.

“Aww, It was really you who won the game,” Arthur insisted.

Ricky went to the locker room and he saw the bookie.

“Here is your winning money,” the guy said.

“Thank you,” said Ricky then he waited for the bookie to leave.

He went over to Arthur’s locker and left the stack of money inside.