[HBBC] Guilty Pleasures

Welcome to The Half-Baked Bloggers Consortium‘s (HBBC), where we voice our opinions about a weekly topic chosen by any HBBC member. This weekend’s topic is Guilty Pleasures.
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I have a long list of guilty pleasures. First comes cookies and my exceptionally overrated cravings that I have for it. But I like to think that I deserve having them for being the goody-two-shoes that I am.

Second comes reading prose on Tumblr as a bedtime story. I seriously and wholeheartedly feel guilty about this. When I'm supposed to be sleeping, I log on to Tumblr to read what those word-players wrote. They really make my day, though. I try to convince myself that the sole reason why I do this is to give myself a push into writing something as wonderful as that.

Here's one of my favourite posts:

MY DIRGE - Written by R.A Casilao

If I wrote you a verse, would you notice me? The stanza would talk about my feelings for you. I would not put it so blatantly. I would hide it in metaphors. I would expertly conceal them in the poetry. If I told you the verse was for you, would your mind open and figure the riddle out? Would you look at me and smile, or would you simply thank me and turn around?

If I wrote you another one, a sonnet this time, would you see past my face? Would you peel away the shroud of society’s vanity from your eyes and see my true form? The sonnet would talk about how I see your soul. The rhyme and measurement would detail why I lust you. The words would be more romantic this time, invoking the promises of lovers of old. If you knew I wrote it for you, would your mind entertain a possibility? And if it did, would you give in or rebuff it?

If I wrote you a villanelle, labored in an hour or so, detailing your attributes, your accoutrements, your adeptness, would you accept my invitation to dine with me? Would you recite the villanelle in your head in the midst of dinner and find it familiar? Would you stop and consider my soul instead of the body I loathe to the core? Would you drink my humor and eat my wit? Would you devour my spirit? Would you see past the external and notice the beauty that emanated from inside?

If I wrote you a longer piece, free verse, where every line resonated with passion, where every word described you in elaborate seduction, would it sway you? Would you finally hunger and lust me in the same manner as I do you? Would you long to own me like I want to be owned? Would you become aware that you’ve heard the words before and recall how they had tasted?

And finally, if I wrote you a sestina, bled for it, sacrificed part of my soul to finish it, the best sestina ever written, a piece that contained every single word that every single couple have told each other in the annals of time, in literature and history, every vow in a wedding taken right from the moment when the couples who uttered them meant every word utterly, would this be enough to make you love me? Would you abandon your wants, your standards, your desire for fleeting earthly things, and know that your soul belonged with mine?

Would you realize, at last, that I am your soulmate and that the world had punished us with time and prejudice? That it had caged my soul in an ugly, distasteful shell so you won’t recognize it? Would the words I wrote for you ring truth in your ears and would your eyes open to compensate it?

Maybe I should stop asking these questions. Maybe I should risk the answers and just… start writing the poems.

Brilliantly written, right?

I could go on about my guilty pleasures but I'd have to include blogging-when-I'm-supposed-to-be-studying if I did. So that's it for today.

Till next time,
M.