Cheryll Patras

Journal of a brown woman's feminine thoughts. Follow on Instagram @cheryll_patras.

[cheryllpatras]

I run a dedicated Instagram account @cheryll_patras to share my poetry with readers like yourself. I'd love for you to join my community of committed and like-minded individuals who know the power and beauty of words. Follow the link to support an emerging writer🌸 thank you!🌠

https://instagram.com/cheryll_patras?igshid=1d7fmgu5ati5h

[cheryllpatras]

Would They Still?

They tell you that you're fun to be around Little do they know the mirth hiding deep wounds. Oh, you realize that all isn't lost in life yet What you're left with isn't everything you'll need. Whom do you tell the aches of your twinging soul? Who keeps your spirits up when you're about to alight? Sure, there be no one— Your humor amuses them Your silence gratifies them Your appearance allures them. Would they still kiss when they see your wounds? Would they still embrace when they hear your serrated words? Would they hold you in arms when You shatter into pieces?

[cheryllpatras]

My faith is more like a powerful eagle gliding above the grey clouds rising from the storm touching the blue sky reaching beyond the horizons.

[cheryllpatras]

Her Veil

Her veil was a sign of modesty—

Exclusive to you.

Her eye-rolls were her arms—

Holding you close.

The love language—

Yea, hers was a little hard to interpret.

If you look closer,

If you dive a little deeper,

If you bring forth your hand to feel,

You'll feel a fireplace giving off warmth

You'll see stars shining to give you light

You'll find a comfort place to make home.

Only if you make up your mind for her,

You'll witness a bride ready to say, "I do".

[cheryllpatras]

Her heart aches.

Her body trembles.

Her soul shatters.

She sobs like a child

During the day—

Howls like a burnt wolf

In the nighttime.

Her hands forget the art of

Wiping off her dripping tears.

How can each one of them turn

Around and let go of her so easily?

Her words crumble on the page

Difficult to be weaved into a verse.

What must a woman have to

Become wife to the love of her life?

—she lacks something, she now believes.

[cheryllpatras]

I wrote this poem for my school, Forman Christian College University (FCCU), since I've been missing the place. Since the COVID-19 outbreak, we've had very little chance to spend time at FCCU and so as the autumn makes it ways and December is headed toward us, I miss being on-campus. Hope you enjoy the read--let me know your thoughts in the notes.

[cheryllpatras]

365247

My poems became succinct As the symphony of miseries fainted Whether the scarlet adorns the tree, Or the snow blankets the earth Whether the heatwave burns the skin, Or the blossoms beautify the greens, You are forever concealed in my words The end of which is nowhere to find Through sufferings, through joys, In ambitions, and in collapses, You are forever concealed in my words The end of which is nowhere to find My words found a way to be concise My verses never learnt to let go of you Yea, my poems became succinct My stanzas became more frequent, For your symphony harmonize my tunes Together they make a perfect melody. —365247 find yourself here.

[cheryllpatras]

It Happens—Sometimes

It happens—sometimes Your blood dries up Your pen breaks apart. Your page thirsts for the dribbling red ink— Waiting to be quenched. It happens—sometimes Your face keeps its glow Your body holds its strength. Your bones crack inside of the pain they remember— Fearing it will happen again. It happens—sometimes Your heart gasps for air Your soul feels smothered.

Your memory hungers for a new experience of love— Hoping history doesn't repeat.

[cheryllpatras]

...if I'd painted a poem in red // every time I fell facedown // and soared again ❤️ Red symbolizes blood, love, courage, and strength. It would have been great if I could depict all of these attributes by painting a poem in red color.

[cheryllpatras]

Cobwebs

I was nothing but mere gold dust --- engrossed in chasing glitter, you'd easily let go of me. Although my soul was made of stardust, not having a strong memory, you'd easily forgotten the sparkle I held. And now you wonder why do you see only the cobwebs reminiscing about my old sparkle in the places we used to go together.

[cheryllpatras]

10 posts!

[cheryllpatras]

It rained yesterday and today early in the morning where I'm located and this is how my emotions, thoughts, and words interlaced and revealed themselves on my notepad // I think I did a good job 💙

[cheryllpatras]

The first thing I did this morning as soon as I woke up saw @nesrina.writes post through which I got to know about an exciting poetry prompt, color green, shared by @growyourpoetry // I decided to take this challenge to add another "he" poem to my collection // after writing a series of positive "he" poems, I thought of writing a little pessimistic "he" piece this time 🥀

[cheryllpatras]

Transfiguration

Oh, I love the glide

made by my thoughts 

from my warm mind

to my cold fingers.

Oh, I cherish how

my words slip 

from my cold fingers

to the crumpled paper.

I’ve learnt to adore how 

my old thoughts and words 

transfigure from being muddled 

to a beauty on the paper rumpled.

[cheryllpatras]

I wrote this short poem very quickly, in mere 60 seconds, back on the 15th of November, 2020 // your womanhood is precious and that's your ultimate beauty // carry your womanhood along with grace and honor and set an example for those to come 🌸

[cheryllpatras]

Happy International Women's Day 2021 to all the queens and divas of valor, ambition, and success out there 💓 I wrote this poem particularly for the 8th of March // don't let that fire go out // never let that sparkle get dull // you've got it 💪

[cheryllpatras]

Just joined a poetry contest organized by a new magazine, The Poiesis Review. I genuinely enjoyed writing this down around the concept of "Until" // honestly, I can't think of any better experience than the one where I share about how right my parents had been about certain things in life while I was growing up // at the end, it all boils down to a curious child's personal experiences // she resists, faces consequences, and learns from her mistakes.