LITERARY WORKS

Submitted By: Ericka M. Evardone

Submitted to: John Patrick Lontok
The Broken Vow
To many promise made
Too many plans wanted to fulfill
Too many vows are broken
Feels like a dream
But i have to wake up and face reality
That there is no more you and me
Now can I face tomorrow without you
How can i smile like you're not the reason
anymore
I want you back , so bad
So bad that it hurts
But i guess ill have no choice
You’re the one who left
You’re the one who gives me this scrutinizing
pain
You’re the one who made my right sleepless
You’re the one i must forget
5 Haiku

Salt water splashing

Sea creatures play hide-and-seek

In the deep blue sea.

Tree branch sways slowly

As a child sings a sweet song

Gracefully it goes.

Busy bees searching

In a stunning flower field

Also butterflies!

A great wide valle

Birds flying freely and wild

Over horizons.

A happy rooster

Feels golden rays of the sun,

Sings hilarious!
The Dreaming Priest

Long time ago there lived a priest who was extremely lazy and poor at the
same time. He did not want to do any hard work but used to dream of
being rich one day. He got his food by begging for alms. One morning he
got a pot of milk as part of the alms. He was extremely delighted and
went home with the pot of milk. He boiled the milk, drank some of it and
put the remaining milk in a pot. He added slight curds in the pot for
converting the milk to curd. He then lay down to sleep.

Soon he started imagining about the pot of curd while he lay asleep. He
dreamed that if he could become rich somehow all his miseries would be
gone. His thoughts turned to the pot of milk he had set to form curd. He
dreamed on; “By morning the pot of milk would set, it would be
converted to curd. I would churn the curd and make butter from it. I
would heat the butter and make ghee out of it. I will then go to that
market and sell that ghee, and make some money. With that money i will
buy a hen. The hen will lay may eggs which will hatch and there will be
many chicken. These chicken will in turn lay hundreds of eggs and I will
soon have a poultry farm of my own.” He kept on imagining.

“I will sell all the hens of my poultry and buy some cows, and open a milk
dairy. All the town people will buy milk from me. I will be very rich and
soon I shall buy jewels. The king will buy all the jewels from me. I will be
so rich that I will be able to marry an exceptionally beautiful girl from a
rich family. Soon I will have a handsome son. If he does any mischief I will
be very angry and to teach him a lesson, I will hit him with a big
stick.”During this dream, he involuntarily picked up the stick next to his
bed and thinking that he was beating his son, raised the stick and hit the
pot. The pot of milk broke and he awoke from his day dream.

Moral : There is no substitute for hard work. Dreams cannot be fulfilled

without hard work.
Hands
Hands have a power,
Unlike any other.
They can lend a hand,
Or hold people down.
Spend years to build cities,
Or Press the button,
They destroys them.
They can touch and feel,
yet they can also strangle.
Our eyes give us two dimensions,
Hands give us the third.
But the real problem is,
That hands never hold enough hands.
Only Because,
we are too busy,
Holding them in fists.
Rainy days

The moon shone bright in the dark sky, illuminating the streets below.
The pitter-patter of rain hitting concrete and the soft whistling of the
wind were the only sounds that could be heard. The buildings were dark,
the once warm glow of the lights now replaced with darkness and the
emptiness that came along with it.

A women walked along the sidewalk, her black dress clinging to her skin
like a leech, sucking out the happiness from her life. Her tears mixed with
the rain, creating multiple streaks down her porcelain skin. Her lips were
pale from the cold nipping at her exposed skin. Her eyes which were once
a vibrant green now held only sorrow. Her black hair which was once full
of volume and life now clung to her neck, lifeless. Her lips which once
created a breathtaking smile now trembled as sobs wracked her throat.

Click-clack-click-clack. The woman’s heels echoed off walls and the

whistling wind whipped at her legs. Yet she did not listen to the whistling
wind. She did not listen to the clicking of her heels. She did not listen to
the pitter-patter of rain. All she listened to was the beating of her heart.
All she thought about were memories of times where she was happy and
carefree. All she wanted was to scream out how life was cruel and that it
twisted the happiest moments into the stuff of nightmares.

A mangled cry escaped her throat as she fell to the ground, her cries
overpowering the sound of the wind, the sound of the rain. Sobs echoed
in the street as the woman thought about what had been stripped of her
in the last couple of hours. She had been stripped of her joy. Her
happiness. Her smile. Her love. Her life. All the woman could think about
was the one thing that had been taken from her grasp. All she could think
about was how she couldn’t keep living. All she could think about was her
own sister had been murdered in front of her eyes.
Another cry escaped her mouth as she finally realized she would never be
the same again. Tears flowed down her cheeks like rivers as the woman
realized her other half had been ripped away
LITERARY
WORKS

Evardone Ericka
Bretenia Christina
Cacas Kyla Marie
Alpeche Salve