[Past Post] Blue Rose

I’ve been having trouble figuring out what to write. So this is a past post called “Blue Rose”, from my ex-blog, expressing the reason why blue rose is my favorite flower and why do I feel that why about it. Until I regain my words I’ll leave you to this. Enjoy:

A delicate sign to hope trembling and crumbling, trying her best to make something out of herself. She looked up and reached out to this world thinking would she rather be like everybody else? or Would she show herself no matter how different she is, no matter what made her this way?
She was identified as not being real genetically changed and made to this… but she had to prove herself.. Prove herself right that she existed!!
She was thrown in a snowy windy day on the ground waiting, anticipating for a life saver.. and there a blue rose as lonely, as lost as her… she picked her up, inhaled a deep soothing breath, dropped to her knees and looked up…. and the soft lyrics of a song came along:

Blue as the crying sky
With no thorn, AND no THISTLE
Only AN open face
Staring at the waking world
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

Her arms stretch wide
To receive a life
And her ROOTS go deep into the BLACK EARTH for strength
And she blooms and

Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine

She blooms while the people sleep
To those who RISE with the noon day Sun
She is a closed mystery

AND Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
OH, Maybe she´s just a morning glory
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine
Lost in a tangle of vine*

The girl walked with the blue rose clutched between her hands…she whispered ” I’ll not hide anymore” She decided not to hide anymore, no more for being lost and show her beauty no matter what is being told or said about her… She will stand whether was it out or in as long as she becomes herself….
She is a Blue Rose … She is a rose that is been made… and yet she’ll bloom to this life.. and not give up.. strong and independent… A Blue Rose she is.
I’d like to thank MJ-Al-Feeli  for shooting this photo exclusively for this post.
* “Blue Rose”, Lizz Wright.
-Esperanza Writes


As I drove down the highway,

Reality clashed it senses and dissolved into the unreal,

Everything around seemed false, fake, and fugitive.

I was afraid that the unreal that I felt is real,

What if the real is unreal and the unreal is real?

I drove faster and I became afraid of the indistinguishably I stored,

If I drove with this shortage of knowledge I might crash.

If I crash and it’s real I’ll be gone,

But what if this is unreal?

I grew dizzy… “think, me, think!!” I commended.

But everything is unreal, I’m just … cold.

Then I arrived, snapping into reality..

I broke a puddle of sweat,

I could no longer stand still and collapsed,

because everything was … real.

Exhaustion has overwhelmed me.

Today I am alive, but what about the next time,

When I mix between unreal and real?

And I doze off into a deep sleep.

-Esperanza Writes

My Life by Me

My Life by Me

I asked my sisters to look at the drawing above and to tell me what they thought it was about. They were confused and maybe they lack the imagination element that they asked me to explain it however, I refused. Another sister said I’m probably sending a message that I am schizophrenic ;p. Anyway the following is maybe an explanation. Enjoy!

Curious, were they

about the book that I wrote

I wrote a book called “My Life”.

Curious, were they.

The Ghost who had no legs,

The Mask who had no body,

The Zombie who came out of the dirt,

and The Clown, his face undecided expression.

Curious, were they to look inside “My Life”,

Let I them look inside,

So they looked, heard, snickered, pointed, reached,

corrected my un-mistaken mistake,

Forgetting that they were with no legs, no bodies, no soul,

undecided expression and so much more.

Let I them look inside,

Them corrupt I, will not.

“My Life” is for me, them not.

-Esperanza Writes

رفرفت حول عنقي فراشة

رفرفت حول عنقي فراشة ,

ثم رست على أذني,

و همست بكلماتٍ أسطوريه,

بلغة هليغروفيه,

قالت “سيدتي إنني أحمل رسالة,

رسالة كتبت بحروف من ماء المشاعر,

تقول: إنني مشتاق, و عذرا لاشتياقي,

عذرا أقولها بوجع, عذرا,

عذرا لأني أشتاق لرؤية شعاع وجهك,

عذرا لأني أحن لكلمة “نحن”,

عذرا لأني أحتضن ذكراك,

عذرا لأني أريد ملامسة أناملك,

عذرا… عذرا… لم أقصد الاعتذار,

لِمَ أعتذر لمشاعر تبث  من الجوف البعيد,

تحمل صدا الصارخ “مشتاق… مشتاق… مشتاق!”,

عذرا… لكنني, و أقولها بحرقةٍ, مشتاق”.”

و سكتت الفراشة, و رفرفت بعييييدا… بعيدا,

تاركة ً خلفها … رسالة.

 -أسبيرنزا رايتس


In order to proceed with this post I have to tell you the story behind why I chose mannequin. The other day I was walking in the mall and I saw a beautiful dress on a mannequin outside a store I went inside and asked to see it. The thing is it was not that good, my comment was like this looks different not good enough as the one on the mannequin. Then I realized of course it must be good on a mannequin because it is perfect. Later that day I decided not only to write a post but sketch a mannequin to accompanies the post. However you could see I not really patient with sketching I prefer oil/acrylic over sketching, but so far the picture (above) was what I came with and it is still unfinished.

Anyway Mannequin:

Mannequin outside the store

Standing so sure, so beautiful no one can compete

Everything on you looks pretty glamorous

My heart-felt envious, if only I was you

“Mannequin!” I cried. “What fortune do you have? How lucky you are!”

“To be looked upon and be praised! To be the center of every glare!”

“If only I was you.”

“No.” Replied the Mannequin, “there is no fortune in myself.”

“There is no luck in the praise towards me.”

“For all I am is a mannequin from wood and plastic.”

“No heart to feel. No life to seek.”

“No glory to look forward to. No heart that feels neither the good nor the bad.”

“No tears to shed, no senses that work.”

“Only a good fitting for some dress.”

“A mannequin that is moved around and around with no tongue to yell ‘STOP!'”

“For the fortune is given to the soul.”

“And me, my dear, am only given clothes to be wore.”

-Esperanza Writes

I Want

I want you to hear me even when I’m not talking.

To hear every whisper every word untold

To feel the vibration when it is not felt

Because you, my dear, care

I want you to know that I long to talk to you

Without any words said, because you know

I want to be near, so near

even though sometimes the real distance is far

I want a single of everything to mean a lot,

a single glance, a single touch, a single thought

All means more, more and more.

I want, and what a selfish thing to say, you.

-Esperanza Writes