Realities

I write poems whenever I feel like it. This is one of them.

Mask

Stare right into her eyes
And you'll see the dark corners of her world.

Stare right into her eyes
And you'll see the pain that resides in her heart.

Stare right into her eyes
And you'll see what she really feels.

Look beyond the face that shows you the glittering eyes and infectious smile.
Look beyond the words that tell you that everything is alright. 


Because sometimes, we just need to let it all out. 


© Lora Quitane
03.13.13


Another poem I wrote a few years ago. I wrote this at 3:03 a.m., and I'm sure that this needs editing. But I'm too lazy to edit it right now, so I'll just post it as it is. Inspired by someone close to me. 


And Then She Became Five Years Older

It's not her looks--
the face that can fool anyone
for them to think that she's a teenager,
nor her face free of make-up,
but the eyes that mirror her thoughts.

It's not the clothes--
for she wears what she wants
and eats when she wants.
Her body is the least of her worries.
What matters is that she breathes and lives. 

It's not her actions
that makes you think she's innocent
and child-like most of the time,
nor her fascination and imagination,
but the subtle things she does that rarely catch your eye.

It's what she sees and how she feels.
For a child must open her eyes
to realize and accept what's in front of her.
To understand that it's in her hands
how the future unfolds.
And when she finally opens up,
that is when she grows.

And that was how she became 5 years older.

© Lora Quitane
08.06.09

--------------------

"Whatever you do, choose life.

The thoughts on your mind, choose life.

Wherever you go, choose life."

- Soul Searching, Urbandub, from Influence.

"There's no point to keep your head face down,

When all we see and know and feel is temporary."

- A Call to Arms, Urbandub, from Apparition.

happy holidays :)

So here's another poem that I made three years ago, inspired from a person that I had once met. Now, don't think that I'm talking about you when you don't even know who I'm talking about. This is just between me and my former self, and now that I think about it, I regret writing this for I never really meant to do this to him. I never knew him personally, we weren't close enough for me to know his true self, but hey, at least you were able to leave me a memory of you. And in all honesty, I am thankful that I met you.

Well, let's get this going, shall we? All this cheesiness is starting to make me gag.

Naked Eye

Like a class clown entertaining his audience with his feeble jokes.

Like a court jester buying the queen's affections through his own ways.

Like a famous person who's admirers worship the ground he walks on.

Like a rock artist who's got a long line of tickets wanting to be his friend.

A lucky man, indeed.

No one can refute his notions.

No one can spoil his name to the highest.

No one disdainful enough can be his friend.

And no one can stand up against him, even the queen.

For he thinks that when he talks,

time stops.

all eyes are on him.

and no one can say a word.

For he knows that he controls everything and everyone in his hands.

For he doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he still looks good.

Pretty egocentric, if you ask me. And pathetic too.

It's a pity, for portraying this coveted role and no one, not even his worthy friends has ever seen him shed off his clothes.

But then again, we may never know. He may have already shown his skin at some point.

© luraaa

08.05.06

2:00 am

Note: If we've met, please do not take this seriously. This was written years ago, when I was a teenager going through the typical stages of adolescence. And if we haven't, then, don't take this seriously as well.