Writing 101 : Serially lost – Goodbye my purple wheel

Serially lost or serially loud.

It was a Nissan something, a purple hatchback, with a huge company logo on each of the passenger car door. I’ve had that car since my son went to kindy. Besides its official duties of visiting and delivery merchandize (big posters, banners, subscription forms and advertising material of all sorts) across shops in the country, it had its fair share of being in line waiting for the bell to ring and moving forward to the school gate picking my kids from school.

For eight years our family was associated with this purple car. First you saw the car, then me or us. We were never a loud family but the car heralded our appearances all around town. One day, there were talks that the company was going to upgrade the fleet, a reduced sized logo and softer color.

I didn’t wait for that to happen. I made a conscious decision to step out of that limelight and left the job.

Goodbye my purple wheels.


purple nissan1


via The Daily Prompt – Writing 101: Serially Lost
Today, write about a loss. The twist: make this the first post in a three-post series.

Three important songs in my life

Jorge Luis Borges said: “Writing is nothing more than a guided dream.”

So, what are you waiting for?  Get writing.  Fifteen minutes.

Write about the three most important songs in your life – what do they mean to you?




Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!


This song gives me hope.  It gives me comfort that even in death, I am not alone. It gives me courage to go forward in my journey, enjoying the moment, live my life,  share my time with those around me. When my time is up, Almighty with a host of angels are waiting to lead me to my eternal peace.



And sometimes when we touch
The honesty’s too much
And I have to close my eyes
And hide
I want to hold you till I die
Till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides


I used to love fiercely and passionately.  Time may have diluted a little of that as I got hurt time and again. The way I loved was like two hands, his and mine coming together. I clinched my fist then he wrapped his hand over mine.  In reality, that is a scary way to love.  The logical way to love is like holding hands, locking each of our fingers in between, both hands entwined.  That represents a symbol of equal commitment to the one another. On the other hand, when one is head over heels in love, who can stay logical.  In reality, love should not be too submissive of one party to the other.  If such a love fails, one party often suffer all the hurt and pain.  That’s my lesson in life.



Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie paper loved that rascal puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. oh

I cannot remember when I first heard this song neither do I care for the speculations about this song being linked to  puffing or smoking marijuana.  Irregardless the true meaning, be it about a drug or about a dragon and boy, I love the magic around the song.  Life can be as rough as you make it, full of temptations and if this song is about a drug then let that serve as a reminder to keep away.  If it is about a magical tale then let that be a flicker of hope in hours of darkness that miracles do happen.  Therefore do not despair.




Now your turn, what are your three most important songs in your life?

via Writing 101 – Commit to a Writing Practice


A room with a view

Going back in time many many years ago, a ten year old little girl looked out the window from her bedroom on the first floor of a wooden double-storey house.

She saw a big tree and further across the field was an attap house with little flower pots (some broken) of plants and flowers sitting on wooden plank shelves outside that attap dwelling. The little house across the field was perhaps home to the servants of her family who lived in that big family home before she was born. The house compound was very big, several acres, an open field, overgrown in some parts and a stream separated that big house and the small attap house. Access was through a few pieces of timber nailed together, placed across the narrow stream as a walkway, sometimes submerged in water during high tide. The whole property had endured floods during the monsoon seasons.

She treasured the times when she would go along with her younger aunt to her little ‘jungle’ (that part of the overgrown patch of land) picking wild ferns (paku and bidin) for cooking. It was always an adventure and fun even though they were often bitten by mosquitoes or insects.

Once a month the family would order a whole truck load of logs for firewood (not for heating but cooking). An old man (Ah Pek) would call round with his axe and it normally took him two days to chop the logs into smaller pieces for a wage of eight ringgit. From her bedroom window, she often watched the old man wiped his sweat with a towel that hung loosely over his neck.  She watched as he gratefully ate his lunch, a big bowl of rice and whatever meat her aunt prepared for him. This log chopping task was carried out directly in the field below her window.

Looking out the window, to the left was a fenced chicken pen at the far end. A few ducks and chicken were seen in that compound chirping away. Sometimes, burglars came in the middle of the night with gunny sacks and stole all the fowls. Next to the chicken pen was a standalone concrete building. There were about six steps leading up to a door and that was entry to the family squat down flush toilet. Behind that toilet structure, was a garden that aunt built for this little girl and that secret garden was totally hidden by that out of place toilet.

The little girl’s bedroom was the inner room. First you enter into a big bed chamber leading into a connecting door to her bedroom. Her grandmother, her younger sister and two aunties slept in the master room. Her favorite aunt shared her inner bedroom. There were four other bedrooms on that floor.

Walking up the steps from the main house, you entered an open hallway, then all the bedrooms on both sides and finally a huge family room with many windows like a U shape looking in three directions. There were at least six windows on each side of the U. One side looked out to the main road and the neighbourhood, the other looked into the lush green fields and the big pond which also served as a dumping ground. The other side windows had the same view of her bedroom looking into the attap house.

Memories full of innocence, so soothing, so green and so pleasant. Years later, in quiet moments alone, as she unwind, turned back the clock, reminiscing her childhood as that little girl living in a room with a view. Sweet memories so precious and dearly treasured.



Related articles

Bidin and Paku are types of edible wild ferns found in Kuching, Sarawak, Borneo.

An attap house has roof made of attap palm (some including walls made of attap) found in the villages of Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore.



via The Daily Post, Writing 101 – A room with a View

We’re all drawn to certain places. If you had the power to get somewhere — anywhere — where would you go right now?   For your twist, focus on building a setting description.

Writing 101 : Unlock the mind

To get started, let’s loosen up.  Let’s unlock the mind.
Today, take twenty minutes to free write.  And don’t think about what you’ll write.
Just write.


I started this blog with a big idea of wanting to connect people all around the world in friendship, not just a blogger community but a place where anyone and everyone all over the world can log in and find another to connect with.  A place where you can make friends and meet up face to face (one day somewhere perhaps).

Friendship and relationship is the theme of my blog.  I hope to write about topics on relationship between couples, parent and child, siblings or friends.  It is a whole big community.  This blog is like a big relationship tree with branches representing each category of relationship and twigs are posts of the topics related to each category.

My big dream is to make this blog a place where anyone and everyone can log into whenever they needed someone to talk to.  It is a station for comfort, for leisure or simply just a place where you can find connection any day, any time, wherever you may be.

Ooops time’s up and that is just a start.  That’s a random twenty minutes more or less of thoughts on how this blog came about.

Welcome to Worldwide FriendSoulmate, your friendly blogging station.


friends border

Humanity is going through a disaster together

Humanity is going through a disaster together

For this week’s challenge, share what humanity means to you. via Humanity.   Disaster brings people together. Disaster brings out kindness. Disaster brings out best human behaviour. Ironically disaster brings out humanity.     This was just one of the stories on … Continue reading

Wise Wednesday ……. Haiku and Tanka

Today is not Wordless Wednesday.

It is Wise Wednesday.

I learned what is Haiku

and Tanka.

Five folded expressions.



What’s better than a perfect bite? Two perfect bites.

If haiku is the sashimi of poetry, tanka is its heartier hand roll cousin.

Traditional tanka contain five lines instead of haiku’s three, and 31 syllables instead of 17. The structure is that of a haiku followed by two additional lines of seven syllables each: 5-7-5-7-7. (Many contemporary poets take liberties with the specifics, and you can, too.)

So what can you do
With tanka? “I’m no poet,”
You might say, shrugging.
Why, I thought you’d never ask.
The options are infinite.

via Daily Prompt


About Tanka

Like anything else, tanka can be made simple or complicated.   Here is a simple definition:

Tanka is normally a short poem of five lines in length, which engages the imagination.  Good tanka suggests far more than it actually says.

via About Tanka




School of Tanka 

Jane Reichhold 

I hope will find much here to inform and entertain you. The highest wish, however is that you feel tanka is a poetry form for you. You can do it. With all the help here you should be able to do it marvelously – the way tanka should be written.

Click here to take your lessons now.