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Literature
My Little Red Piggy Bank
I had a little red piggy bank the other day.
With these yearning arms
I raised the little thing and shook it
Carrying to ears that have not heard
A tinkly sound of chimes and adorable laughter.
It was warm to my unkissed cheeks,
And, looking inside, I found old memoirs-
Stolen glances-
Which were just about all I could get.
The piggy bank lay at the corner of my room, beside my bed.
Each night it would look at me, waiting.
I myself wondered not just when it would be full,
But how.
Each night I saved up the same confession.
And when it came to be that it became heavier,
Much heavier than usual,
I took the little red piggy bank and let it fall,
Breaking it into a hundred little pieces.
My mother yelled from downstairs, asking if I was fine.
I said it was nothing.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 7 1
Literature
Coin Trade
A little elf made a trade with me
In the night, perhaps in a dream:
A gold coin for my destiny.
But thinking that it was a dream
I grinned and gave it away.
The elf was gone the next I looked;
Where he stood, the gold coin lay.
I picked it up and cursed the crook
And to waking I slowly went,
But I felt bad that the trade was done
And my riches were almost spent.
So I sought to trade my coin for fun
At the local drinking bar
But on the way I tripped and fell
And the coin rolled very far.
I ran and leaped and ducked and well,
The coin was the better man,
Across the road it went past me
And unto your waiting hand.
"My dear, you hold my destiny,"
          I said, but you smiled and winked and the wind danced on your hair,
          And I saw myself in you and I lost my composure and I could not speak at all.
          My pockets were empt
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 11 2
Literature
Twinkling
Your eyes are like stars.
Twinkling despite clouds at night,
You shine from afar.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 9 4
Literature
Farewell, Self
Distance wraps itself around me, a lonely satellite being
Floating in a sea of pure depth and space,
Pure nothingness, blackness, or light.
My branches sway towards you like sunflowers in the morning,
Their existence now a second longer by the sweet sight
Of you and him under a faraway moon.
It is perpetually nighttime, where I live.
Pieces of me, lost, or broken by careless museum patrons
Shimmer like signals from a lover by a lighthouse.
That same lover sighs, but returns each night,
To send a sliver of light reflected from her eyes from the myriad stars
To her faraway soul, saying, "return".
When he smiles at you and your sight is made radiant
Like the instant between dawn and pure morning,
My branches, reaching out towards you, remain unchanged.
One day, when you are idle, or feel strangely compelled, look within you.
If by any chance, in the infinite depths of your heart, you do not find me,
Walk out into your world, proud, that sadness has left you.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 8 2
Literature
Thoughts of You at Midnight
Late in the evening, after rain,
Looking up into the night sky-
My body becomes a simple mixture of
Dust, wind, and thoughts or dreams,
Floating above your home,
Looking down towards your deep eyes
That glimmer.
Your hair is still wet.
Perhaps you were waiting for someone,
Thinking of that person while he is away.
The night chill takes your sighs,
And I could almost make out his name
In the darkness.
You send out wishes towards shooting stars,
And from my lonely place I am suddenly pierced
By a rush of sparkling, hungry, delirious longing.
My sight follows it along a trail of stardust,
Where it falls upon my distant body;
Onto these two, patient hands outstretched
Made comfortable by the thought of you
And the memory of your skin.
Looking up into the night sky,
I see you before me,
Coming to me from a hundred years past.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 8 3
Literature
To Catherine
The moon wanes, the tides recede, the leaves fall;
Good days give way to rain, and soon,
I will run out of stories to tell.
When from the depths of slumber you wake from my bed
And I point to the horizon, I pray
That you remember the moment that you and I first kissed
The time when a great warmth shone over the gloomy air
And a ray of hope shot through existence
As the earth and the sky met.
When I tucked you in the night before, recall
The sight of the city skyline at dawn,
When twilight would give way to certainty
And enveloped all in warmth.
But hold your breath and let me kiss you,
Sleep a moment longer for I have no stories to tell.
That while I trace your brow, know that
I am touching the strands of your dreams.
When I watch you sleep, I am keeping away
The nearing shadows.
For though I no longer have any stories
- all my stories are about us, now -
The world still holds the tales I have yet to tell.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 19 9
Literature
I am Fire
Underneath the naked night is I, a flame.
I, a flickering fire feeding on earth, wood, leaf,
The thought of birdsong under a clear sky,
On dreams, hope, or images of the ocean,
On the memory of our first meeting and the imagined next,
Am the sum of all these parts.
My eyes are ephemeral as they look towards the stars
Just as my wishes as they rush outwards from me.
The clouds, tired of hearing your name, give me rain.
I flicker, fading, each burst of flame an arm
Reaching out and only catching a ray of starlight
Aged a hundred million or so:
The fragment of sunset burning into the darkness
Fades too fast to recognize the deceit.
I, never satiated, consume all beneath me
If only to climb the tower on which
I have set you up on.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 10 4
Literature
It is her eyes that I love...
It is her eyes that I love, I think;
Her face is a haze as I walk the streets in the evening.
Once, those same eyes looked at me from
a ruffled cloud where her head lay,
the beads of sweat on her forehead
Glistening like stars underneath the night-shadow of me.
Alone with a drink, it made for a fine recollection.
I remember I had seen her long, black hair,
Like the shadow cast by an angel,
Once, on a stranger.
Once, those strands held me in rapture
As I walked beside her.
The streets in the evening gave way to her image.
The world is not a selfish being, indeed;
It has given me many chances to love.
Too many women have I seen, their common parts
Having received my affection (from far away)...
It has left me more nights to walk.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 12 14
Literature
When
When the waves are lulled to restful sleep
By the fiercest breeze or most ardent wish
Or when men lose their way in the morning;
When the gods become like trees, solitary rocks,
Silent, flightless birds, languid Spring,
Unlearned wisdom, muted orchestra, unrequited love:
These are the times when I do not miss you.
There is a little thing inside of me that echoes,
Its humdrum beating like the sound of a water wheel
Along a dying river. There, it speaks to me,
Tells me to be silent and think of only one thing
And that alone, and for all those infinitesimal seconds,
Until it finally bursts into uncountable, minute
Fragments of hope, screaming out your name
While the dreams of the seas begin to form waves.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 2 5
Literature
I see infinity...
I see infinity in your eyes,
As how the seas appear vast under moonlight, its waves
A welcoming motion towards its unknown depths
Or how the hand-picked flower seems eternally in bloom
When they leap from my hand to yours.
Of what wonders exist within you
That I might yet uncover? This certain uncertainty
Dares me to search you as if to strip you
Of your clothes, and in the same way, it excites me;
Your depths are challenged only
By this yearning, yet for many nights I still
Share sorrows with the moon, my solitary witness.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 5 7
Literature
The Equation
She stood there, mind agape, as she stared at the two black lines on the wall. The room, now painted a bare white, was being readied for furnishing - all of the things that gave it character were boxed or sent to the other rooms. She remembered the time when she was young, when there was a small place by the corner of the room where her dolls were stacked. A gift from her parents, from a childhood best friend and another (she had many best friends), and one from a boy she particularly liked; they were just toys, but sometimes they were also people. And then she remembered her fluffy, queen-sized bed, where she once brought the boy she particularly liked from before (now older) over, only to find her conservative mother stomping through the doors of her room and accused them of doing something. But they were only fourteen then - what could they have done? She laughed.
But the two lines were still there, like perfect cracks on an ivory vase. She fingered her paintbrush as she look
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 7 12
Literature
In Hoping
I will myself a shadow upon your bed;
Close but untouchable, near enough
To feel my breath but never know it.
In watching you, I shall whisper:
"You are resting, solemnly, like
A seed in peace under a blanket
Of soil. There are moments of
Fitful slumber, and you stir.
But you are surrounded by
Warmth and kept by nature. And
There on your side is another
Seed, who is malnourished and
Will grow slower than you, for
It gives you its share of drink,
And takes the blows from the beak
And the shoe, or the shovel.
Look down upon me, occasionally
Even, when your branches have grown
And I can no longer see your face.
If I may even become a sliver of
Your existence, then I plea,
Let me rest at your feet..."
And then, a snap of my fingers:
May you know me when you wake.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 4 7
Literature
Thinking of You on a Windy Day
Thoughts of You on a Windy Day
I remember the scent of your skin:
The setting sun casting a honey glaze
On the naked, resting horizon.
I watched you long, that day,
Until my sights paled in imagining
Calm, unmoving seas.
Under a shade of tree I recall
Far cries of stray, wandering hounds
Once I was one of them, I remember.
Chasing after the clouds, the wind
Upon my face, my freedom before me
And then a juicy bone.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 4 15
Literature
Masquerade
Take part in the jest of the masquerade-
The show of masks, seduction, and charade!
Leave thy personal affects by the door
And dance, dance, freely, on the moonlit floor.
Dost thou know of the princess of this 'fair?
The stars line her dress, the strands of her hair.
Her eyes twinkle at thee, a tease half-meant
But her mask holds thee painfully content.
Dance with her, then, dance as the night dictates
Now, waste no time, for old Time does not wait.
Speak to her with thy step, thy interest
Wish her well, wish her only what is best.
Then await the end of the masquerade-
When she doffs her mask: her true self displayed.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 22 13
Literature
What It Means to Live
Life is too short.
The mailman wipes his brow on the sleeve that had clothed him
For over twenty years. His sweat mingles with the tears that were
Once shed by his co-worker, (now his wife) and it is bittersweet.
The writer crumples his thousandth piece, and begins to write
The novel that would take the world by storm once again.
There are those who continue to reach for adolescent dreams;
Childlike goals of the childish, and fail.
Because of a choice made late, a missed step, a time waited on.
But, I, would like to die, should deaths be stars':
A silent explosion, like the end of love or of lovemaking,
Of cosmic dust and light
That I had gathered in my heart from a lifetime
Of observing men with dreams, and watching them fail,
That would seep into the hearts of my neighbor stars
Setting them on a fire as if they themselves were in love;
Being one with theirs until their time comes -
A bright orgasm and then a sudden darkness
But the world continues to see us flare.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 3 12
Literature
Past Times
A man that smelled of earth
With rusted teeth and hanging skin
Going about the old, forgotten road
In the company of himself:
His back was arched
All those memories
Silver keepsakes,
Even paper would burden in bulk;
The creases on his face
Were lines with names
And they digged deep into his skin -
Folds within folds.
His step turned to crawl
As legs had given way
Or was it the soul?
I knew not his language.
On the earth he lay unmoving
Pitied by time and buried
Under the dust of modernity:
There lay no cross above him.
:iconberamonde:beramonde
:iconberamonde:beramonde 7 19

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Activity


On Monday, my resignation would be in effect, and I would be free from my work to pursue my own creative goals. I'm looking forward to that.

In the midst of thinking about what to do next, I thought about my writing and how I haven't done that for a while. I think I'm a bit rusty but I don't think anyone should let that get in the way.

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beramonde's Profile Picture
beramonde
Chase
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Philippines
Current Residence: Philippines
Favourite genre of music: Rock/Alternative
Operating System: Windows XP
Personal Quote: "This above all: to thine one self be true." - WS
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Comments


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:iconsketchybrohoof:
SketchyBrohoof Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Kumusta po!
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:iconskywestphalia:
skywestphalia Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
happy b-day
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:iconviospace:
viospace Featured By Owner Nov 21, 2013
Thank you so much for the watch~:heart: :iconsugarfanplz:
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:iconskywestphalia:
skywestphalia Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
happy b-day ^^
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:iconskywestphalia:
skywestphalia Featured By Owner Dec 9, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy b-day!
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:iconpakks:
Pakks Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2011
is it me or your little slide stories stop midway? :O

ps: perfect world huh? ^^
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:iconskywestphalia:
skywestphalia Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2010  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey there! How's life?

Oh, and advance happy dA b-day! here's a :llama: for a gift! ^^
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:icontgosingtianfan:
tgosingtianfan Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2009
@beramode waht is your ture name
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:iconakilamperouge:
AkiLamperouge Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2009
Like your style <3
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:iconpiaya:
piaya Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2009   Traditional Artist
^_^
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