Stop breaking, my broken heart
for that love that never was
stop crying, my teary eyes
for the dream that all but passed
His love was only an illusion
marketed to the vulnerable
with words, saccharine sweet
masking the greed animating his bones.
Open your eyes. That handsome face
he let you see was another man’s  profile
The life story you were told
was a patchwork of lies
all so enthralling
before your love-struck eyes
that you were confused
when fate revealed this lover’s hand –
was it a blessing or a cruel prank
to raise romantic hopes so high
and let it fall with much pain
and humiliation besides?
You have shattered
You have cried
You are wiser now
Pick up the pieces
and dream again.


This was inspired by a friend’s  story and this  warning from the Philippine Department of Foreign Affairs.


Years ago, when I was a new mother with  a mild case of post partum blues and a great dose of homesickness, I wrote this poem –


Memories flowed

like a swollen stream

drowning the mind

with long forgotten pains

refreshing the soul

with joys back again.

Music once unheard

echoes clear

in the heart once burned with cares.

Thoughts gather and are lost,

they are distilled in a moment’s pause.

Convinced that  I wrote the magnum opus of my life and that the world would be a much better place if it read  my poem, I entered it in a so-called poetry competition hosted by  Boy! Was I glad when my poem was chosen a finalist.   I was so glad, and even  proud, in fact,     that I did not blink  when they told me that I had to cough up $50.00 to have that poem published in a book, Timeless Voices, when $50.00 was a fortune for a  struggling couple like us.  And more if I wanted to have my profile on the book.

After I sent in the money, I worried that  the whole thing was a ruse.  There were publication delays and I did not get the book on time.    But I got it  alright.  My work was on the first page.  How wonderful that was!  Weeks and months later, I got other invitations for my poem to be published by  London-based Noble House, or something.  I also received  invitations to join a  poetry conference in Las Vegas where Ruben Studdard would be the guest entertainer.  Woohoo!   I had to decline each invitation.  Sigh. I had no  money.

A couple of years later, I visited the site again.   It was down,  closed by the Better Business Bureau for running a scam.  My husband did warn me though.  “Don’t rain on my parade,” was my reply.

Shh….Let it not be said I placed my  confidence on the con man.


I have long wanted to write about this experience but somehow, it always got shelved for one reason or another.  The other day, I learned that April is  National Poetry Month and I was motivated to write about my Poetry scam experience again.  Now, I thought that I would not be able to join Trifecta this week because the  new prompt  is rather difficult.  Then I realized that the theme of my anecdote jives perfectly with this week’s prompt – ‘Confidence’ , i.e.,  3 a: a relation of trust or intimacy
b : reliance on another’s discretion c : support especially in a legislative body.

I hope the Trifecta gang will not mind me linking a non-fiction.  If this does not meet their criteria, I will not mind this being deleted from the links, or me being summoned into the ‘office’.  😀   Just a thought.  If this lack of inspiration continues, I might just have a biography from all the prompts. 🙂

Thank you all for dropping by. Your comments are much appreciated.  Please head over to

Trifecta: Week Twenty-Four

for some great writing.