out of kindness they still their tongue,

unable to speak,

lying by omission,

and here I stand,



for when do I speak,

when do I break the spell,

when do I say,

enough is enough,

kindness does not always save.

there are days when lies come far too easy,

there are days when it’s better not to say,

and when times passes,

to soothe over memories,

it becomes a thing to laugh over,

a fondness,

instead of bitterness.

half-forgotten thoughts,

bury and dig deep into me,

so they never leave.

your skin is amber,

igniting and burning bright,

shining like the sun.

there’s a tightness in my chest,

as I walk along familiar roads,

there is a fondness in my words,

as I speak of days of old.

yet it isn’t quite the same,

and already I see new sights,

strange and wonderful,

overlapping memories.

there’s a pain in my heart,

of never seeing this place grow,

as time passes,

it moves further away from me.

and one day,

without knowing,

I will never know,

this place I once called home.

to new adventures,

to further chaos,

to bright struggles,

to neverending sorrow.

your words cut deep into my heart,

when I know they shouldn’t,

they sting me,

till I reach despair,

I wonder why,

why my heart is too soft,

that your words that aren’t sharp,

still pierces me,

till I bleed.

a death in the family,

a hope flickering out,

a candle burning away,

a darkness amidst happiness.

Thank you for reading.

Love, Nicole.





to lose your sense of self
to be nothing but a shell
how does one do it
by disappearing slowly
day by day
a little by little
into nothing

sometimes grief is an ocean of despair
with unknown depths so deep
that light doesn’t pass through
dark and unforgiving

sometimes grief is an all-consuming fire
that burns and blazes through
destroying everything in its path
never to bring life again

and there are days when there is joy
and there are days when there is sorrow
and then there are the days
when there’s nothing at all
but to breathe, to live,
as if,
you’re alive.

how does one define sadness
is it the piercing pain through the heart
is it the sharp stabs through the gut
is it the emptiness within our minds
is it
can sadness be seen
or is it merely a construct of our imagination
evidenced only by the tears
running down our faces
to prove
that we are sad

Thank you for reading! Some random rambles resembling poetry for the night.

Love, Nicole.

To Pretend

These tears that won’t fall

They lodge themselves deep within me

They strike with claws of despair

Cutting my heart into ribbons

These words that have no sound

They hide themselves away

If they’re not said then they don’t exist

They merely breed and fester

These hurts that have no end

They rise and rise

Filling me to the brim

And then I end

I end.


Thank you for reading!

Love, Nicole.

Reminder: Don’t Give Up

“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer.

And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this.

And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions.

And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile.

You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”

– Ira Glass

A reminder to myself, and to anyone out there who needs this.

That with each day that passes, with every story that I write, I am improving little by little and that makes all the difference. That I’m not giving up, despite all my insecurities.

It takes time.

I needed this today.

Brief blog post, but thank you for reading!

Love, Nicole.

Hey Friend

you end up not speaking
you fear making me ‘not nice’
when i’m not that nice
in the first place

you hesitate because 
you think i’m perfect
you don’t want to
corrupt my niceness

i’m not
i just want you to see me
as i am
i’m me

why do you leave me alone
in your insecurities
you cause mine to rise up
and we both drown

we’re both insecure
we both fear
and we both want
the same things

a hand to hold
a shoulder to cry on
a place to be
a friend to cherish

so hold my hand
hug me close
tell me your secrets
and i’ll tell you mine

i’m not nice
i’m not perfect
i’m me
and i want to be
your friend


So my poem Fear has been published in a magazine! The Hourglass magazine is now available in print here.

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Some of the proceeds will go to the schooling of less fortunate children in the Philippines. The publishers will donate to a charity, Virlanie Foundation and will also give books to a family support group in Philippine General Hospital during Christmas.

I’m rather excited as it’s my first poem in print! My pen name is Nicolet WW, and it’s the first time I’m seeing it written that way and I’m so excited.

Please do support me by getting the magazine!

Thank you for reading.


Sun and Moon

I am but the tide.

I’m like the tide.

I’m pulled and tugged, and laid to rest by you.

Your anger, your sorrows, all your whims and fancy, they are the source of my indecisiveness.

Your cries, they pierce through me.

You cry, and say love me.

Yet when I hold you close, you stab me, you wound me, before you push me away to bleed.

When I hold you, you unravel me, you break me, and you push me away to rot alone.


I’m like the tide.

And you hold power over me.

I would like to say that you’re the moon, the orb that shines in the sky guiding me in the dark nights.

But you’re the one that leads me astray, with lights and illusions, and paths not meant to be taken.

I would like to say you’re the sun, that brings life, that brings light to my life.

But you’re the one that burns me, with your heat and temperament, and you leave me to dry under your gaze.

Like the sun, and the moon, that plays with the tide, you play with my emotions, you play with my life.


I’m like the tide.

And I will not forget your hold over me.

There is not a day that passes that I do not think of you. There is not a day that passes that my heart does not weep for you.

Our roots are tangled up together, our bodies intertwined. There is no escaping fate, there is no escaping reality.

We will never be rid of each other, we will never part for too long. We can only bend away, move away, further and further, our eyes refusing to glance at each other.

Even in death we will meet again.

For you surround me, and I cannot escape.

I am but the tide.

And you are my Sun and my Moon.

Poets In Progress Workshop #1

An evening with the amazing poet Zohab Khan.

So I attended a poetry workshop recently. I wanted to experience how it was going to a poetry workshop and it was pretty interesting.



It was hosted by If Walls Could Talk – Poetry Open Mic, organized by the amazing Ms Melizarani (I love her poems too!).


Continue reading “Poets In Progress Workshop #1”