The Endless Cycle...

The Endless Cycle

© 2017 SachikoMochiko



Every mistake, loss, failure or breakdown…it’s your choice whether or not to suffer from it.



“I am a human. Just like you and me. I’m young, 13 years of age, but I already feel old. I have learnt that, whatever situation you are in now, it’s temporary. So, enjoy or endure it to the fullest!


Whether is another human, your passion or yourself, you fall for it.  This poem I wrote is inspired by both my life and my fellow friends who write with me, sharing their stories. There are many different ways to view this poem. I spent many hours choosing how to structure this and the word choice. I wanted to share this to people who can relate and inspire other writers.”





I’m absolutely sick of falling


Falling in love and making the same mistake


Eaten by jealousy


Thinking that it would work 


Even when that person who I sought, 


Catches another


Thinking that they want you


Even if the kindness expressed is just…





Whenever I fall,


And no one sought me


I fall into a deep, cold abyss


Isolating both heart and body


From this rotting world


Suffocating me and myself


From thinking that I will fall again



But again, I find peace at the bottom…


Sitting just above the bedrock of grief 


Where your screams of heart break 


Is muted by the sea of tears




But I hunger to fall 


To seek for another cradle of arms



After craving for so long


I trick myself


That my heart has moved on


To someone for me


But deep, deep down…


I know it is just a mask


A mask to cover the disheartening pain


And to keep me sane


As I walk amongst the beings




It’s an endless cycle…




A cycle that is deemed to run my world


My kingdom,


My psyche,


My crust,


Like a wheel with a tempting needle 


Waiting to cast me to sleep


As it wheels me away to again start the cycle




Even if my consciousness is aware 


I shrug it off thinking I’m happily a rolling pebble


rolling pebble that has been dropped


Dropped into a saltwater sea of fish


Where plenty of fish swim to escape


Escape the rotting world above




I’m a pebble after all


I was meant to sink to the bottom


Or be split in half by the fish



But as the hundreds and thousands of centuries


Wear me down


My calloused, guarded heart cracks open


As the pressure of the rotting earth


I. Become. The. Diamond.


It was not long after,


I was extracted from the bedrock of grief






Until the skin of this pebble


Peels like those onion that brought tears to my eyes



Someone has found the brightest part of me


Someone has found my beauty


Someone has also fallen…like me


In a mere emotion with two sides






Well, congratulations that someone


Because you have found a rare one


Only one here on this earth


My mere gratitude cannot express…


Express how undeniably grateful I am



The two of us creates another;


“I’m absolutely sick of falling”,


she said…





Author's Notes/Comments: 

STILL not quiet finished hehe

Just added a little abstract :) and fixed some grammatical mistakes...

Oh, I also strongly encourage you to share this poem if you enjoyed it!

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"Her Glacier"

“Her Glacier” 


Laying down on the shattered glass

I breathe in the shards

Letting the seeping blood drip




The ripples resonate and echo,

On the disheartened, crying ice

Eyes… dropping… crystals

Covered my saddened heart

Who, I scream a silent, dry scream,

as if I am in space, underwater


To my weeping eyes, “I am sorry for the wasted tears.”

I whisper to the silence, with my vivid vision

The vivid vision blurred by the saltwater tears

Can only see the back of the person I loved

FADE…into the mist of tears


The ice that weeps with me, from my ripped feet,

Shatters as I am taken to the abyss…

The very abyss of my own heart


I, slowly taken down, down…as I struggle against,

Against the deathly, cold water

As the rose thorns grasp my feet…they take me

To pitch-dark black,


To the prison I made myself


Here at the ocean floor,

The place that is made out of my own tears

I wait…where the ashes remain

As I hope the pressure of the seven seas

Of my own heart, turns me into diamonds


The other part of me, who lives much above me

Where the snow punches your ragged skin,

In the heart of the land of fire and ice,

Awaits, in the concave of a glacier…


Aimlessly around the blue glass tsunami,

Breathing in the untainted, crisp cool air

Eyes floating aimlessly

Eyes twinkling endlessly


This slow walking giant, taking centuries for each step

Covers the land with its azure ice like a blanket

Treading on the works of any weathering

Glitters with streaks of endless blue…



O’ the beauty of the blue streaks!

Each a different shade,

Describes the indescribable

His exquisite beauty,


Walls as waves and ripples

Of water that has been frozen in time

Forms those very streaks!

Sapphire, Tiffany, Sky, Zaffre, Royal, Navy, Azure and Midnight blue

In bliss…all dancing merrily in this very cave

…an ultimate Eternal Dance


She, white light, origin of the viva Earth

Smiles through His crystal

Giving colour and light to His life

Givin’ His form…the Blue Crystal Tsunami.


Romance, like lovers, waltzing

even if one of them…will not make it ‘till the end

even if one of them…is slowly killing the other

She, who gives beauty to the giant

I, who lives way below them,

cannot compete…


A warm-blooded creature of the land…

It, who decides to wander inside…

runs Its hands on the mosaic of blue

To It, the ice seems to glide

As the twinkling light of the crystal cave winks…

Picturing the two together…


Below the glacier " inside the very cave- lays a beach


O’ the beach of his tears…when he weeps with me

Slowly melting away


Either way,

His blue is much apart from mine,

Sleeplessly, I lay down on the shattered glass

Endlessly, breathing in the stabbing shards

As I accept my fate…way below Him


Him.” “Blue Glass Tsunami” = Vatnajökull glacier cave, Iceland

The Land of Fire and Ice” = Iceland. Iceland is known to have volcanoes next to glaciers.

White light, Origin of the viva Earth” “She” = Sun

Beach of his tears” = A ‘beach’ located in the cave itself. The sand is made out of ‘crystal’.

A warm-blooded creature of the land” = A person. Human

Pictures them together” = Takes a picture of the cave with a camera

Even if one of them…is slowly killing the other” = The sun is melting the ice

I” = A landform that sunk to the bottom of the sea, just below the cave. (i.e. ‘the third wheel’)











         “…and here I wait. For her glacier. Who I knew will never come”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Normally I'm all about the sensory imagery and using a wide vocabulary, and I know that poetry tends to be much more elaborate than prose, but I feel like the emotions and symbolism you are trying to convey are being lost behind all the extra words you're squeezing in. A lot of the words you've chosen come across as either redundant or misplaced, and that gets a little distracting for your reader(s). As you keep working on this piece, consider whether some of your word choices could be pared back, simplified, or eliminated all together. That will help emphasize the meanings you are trying to express.
Also take some time to consider the purpose of your punctuation. I know that ellipses seem like a nice, dramatic way to emphasize specific phrases and images, but overusing them in this way makes the reader feel like they're constantly trying to catch their breath. Which, hey, could be the very point! Just a thought I had." - C.J. Holmes

A Love Poem

Silver trees on emerald fields

and golden leaves fall where'er they will

A cerulean blue, white-clouded sky

my love (my love, my love) and I


Rose-pink dawn and breathless kisses

Tenderest of embraces, warmest of wishes

Lavendar blossoms and the song of the wind

and I myself with my dearest friend


Velvet-black nights and diamond stars

Dawn's own Venus and red-glowing Mars

And all the bright eyes of heaven in between

Watching (with envy) my love and me


Cascades of golden light on the ev'ning hours

Falling between pine trees, grasses, flowers,

A radiant beam pierching soft cumulus clouds,

And o'er Heaven's fair meadows, there comes thou


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Like water flowing through our fingers,

When we try to grab it with our hands.

Like an escaped dream aimlessly floating,

When we try to catch it with our minds,

Like two flames dancing to dodge capture,

When we dare to risk to steal their light.

Like a lonely sunburst still keeps on travelling,

When we cannot see it in the night.


Let frost create ice from the water,

A dream asleep be reconsidered.

Let flames be tamed by our desire,

A sunburst missing us be mirrored.

As long as we cling to each other,

Then what we have will be conclusive.

In solid form it will come to us,

Our love will never be elusive.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

@2017, J.J., The Netherlands

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Psalm 63:4


PSALM  63:4*


     To praise You as long as I live

     is my unfolding path of eternal love.

     To do something forever

     shows loyalty, faithfulness, character,

     patience, endurance, respect, truth,

     and todah**—the lifting of hands—

     gives praise and worship to Jesus.

     He is worthy.

     Everything I offer Him

     is nothing in comparison

     to what He does for me.

     He hears if I praise Him.

     He sees if I worship Him.

     Praying and worshipping are my true gifts to Him.

     Do I bring Him into my life?

Will I pass His test?

Will I sanctify Him forever?

Will I be at His side?

Will I pray?
Will todah be part of my life?

     There are Divine gifts,

     rewards, and miracles

     that only God can give.

     Do I notice these gifts when they occur,

     or is it my doings that make them happen?

     Is God’s existence self-begot or not?

     Is death ending or not?

     Jesus is here for many reasons.

     How do I honor Him?


       *I will praise You as long as I live
       and in Your name I will lift up my hands.


       **Hebrew for an extension of the hand.

       A choir of worshippers.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

From my book of poetry, entering the Holy Spirit.

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My Aunt's Piano

I always wondered how to play it. The old fashioned grand piano just stood there, in the living room. Nobody would play it, nobody would acknowledge it. Was it special? Did it even work? Every month, since I was 7 years old, I would attend a family reunion in my Aunt’s house, and I would think about the polished piano that seemed as if it were just another piece of furniture in the spacious living room. It seemed insignificant to everybody, it seemed as if I was the only one who recognized the charm in this instrument. Until one day, I finally asked my aunt, “Does anybody play the piano?”. She laughed, and told me that it was merely an ornament for them, they had bought it 10 years ago and nobody ever even took piano classes. Yes, the $5,000 piano was simply, just, there. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t stop thinking about this piano that seemed so elegant, fancy, and even stylish. As I got home, I told my mom that I needed to learn how to play the piano. I fell in love with the gentle, emotional and mellow sounds it made. As I started taking clases, I realized that I really did enjoy playing. It became my only hobby that was not related to sports, which was incredibly strange and awkward to me. Until this day, I have no other hobbies (besides reading and playing the piano) that are not sports related. I grew up, the years passed and my 13th birthday came, the greatest gift of them all was from my aunt. Yes, she gave me her piano. She said that it would make her more happy if someone actually played it. I stared in amusement, not understanding the fact that she had just began to realize that. I thought about saying: “You don’t say?”, but my parents taught me that sarcasm is bad. Yes, really really bad. So I actually said: “Thanks!”. My aunt’s piano, which is now my piano, now sits below the stairs in my house, and finally, has someone to play with. It now feels satisfied, complete and seems even more joyful than before. Now, thanks to my aunt, I have a piano that I would never thought I would have. I take care of it more than I take care of any of my belongings. And my aunt, as weird as she can be, and as weird as she may think, will forever be the aunt who gave me her grand piano.

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Tales and Fables

The heart within me turned to stone

Like a wolf pack's lonesome cries

Darkness woven in my bones

But starlight fading in my eyes

I hear the whispers in the trees

A wisp's song fluttering on the breeze

But ne'er will I go home again

Ne'er will I go


I heard the call of maiden fair

But swore again I'd go not there

My lonesome crying in the night

Has formed me as a sullen wight

Oh cursed fairy! How could you lead

A child to such an awful deed

For ne'er can I return again

Ne'er to return


Alone at last, my will is done

Now, forever this must be

Before my mind be overrun

To hurt no more, my final plea

My past is lost, the future nigh

My story dead on sands of time

To home I must return again

Again I must turn home

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Shoestrings (an affected poem)



Are people's

lonesome adventures

depressive masquerades?


In a culture of one's

design; only

'tis Not


Deceit tied them

together like




Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote a free verse poem approximately on (possibly arnd the afternoon or dusk, or even in the evening hrs.) This was posted to my Twitter account on the 10th of the same month.  Its working title was changed from Shoelace to Shoestrings on the process.  Pls. kindly bear w/ it, as 'tis also an affected poem. 

A Year Or So Ago


"It's been over a year. 

I realize, 

eyes playing about on dates

of the calender.


Suddenly thinking

back to a year before, 

days exactly 364.

So, less than a year, 


by hours. When the

lips that pressed were ours.

When our fingers intertwined, 

when we felt each others' bodies, 


souls, mind. 

So wrong, so forbidden, 

it felt right.

Written into passing,


the scripts and screenplay

of night-time stays, 

never staying until morning. 



door left unlocked, 

just in case.

Offered, often heard, 

only once utilized. 


She always said she would. 



She did, 

softly cooing my name, 

pulling me out of my slumber, 


and instantly hopping into my bed, 

my arms, pulling her close. 

My warm bare skin


juxtaposed to her cold clothing. 

We soon matched. 

There was no lack

of mutual attraction, 


no shortage of constant communication, 

trips, adventures, 

ridiculous confessions 

and straight-forward denial. 


I denied I did wrong, 

to myself. 

Who knows how she felt.

All I know 


is that she felt good, 

she felt like home, 

like I belonged. 

Longing for her scent, 


I still remember

how it drove me wild.


as she liked to point out.


It's a lie, 

there is nothing passed. 

Though, once she asked

if she was hurting me.


I, misunderstanding, 

replied, 'why, no, 

it's my other shoulder 

that's broken.'


She grinned, 

leaning into my arms, 

'no,' she said, 

'this. Us.'


It hurt, 

seeing her dog I grew to adore

slowly separate us on the couch 

a year or so ago. 


It hurts still

thinking of some details. 

Fond memories, 

so vivid, full of her laughter. 


Haunted by scorn, 

the scorn of several people, 

over all that transpired. 

You'd think a year


would wash it all away, 

but nothing is past-tense. 



the dreams. 

Thoughts I can't deny, 

lying that they're gone.

They aren't.  


I was told it was trouble,  

I was warned. 

But still I got in her car, 

she got in mine. 


She's a phone call away;

I don't have the heart

to dial, 

knowing damn well


I'd immediately answer if she called. 

Does she read my poetry? 

Does she think of me?

Love me like I love her still? 


I should have not turned my cheek.

I should have came to her rescue 

against canine off-leash. 

But I didn't. 


And I wish I had.

Instead, all I have

is a book with edits, 

another that's a gift


belonging to her, 

one of her favorites. 

We even shared a quote, 

'Never lend a book.'


An act of affection instead, 

one of several.

She never said the words, 

but she gave me many gifts. 


It started with a cold can.

That's how she loved me.

I wish I had realized it

a year or so ago."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem I was too scared to post for a long time. Funny how time heals.