I want to be home
To be embraced by deep blue lagoon
To be soothe from unworded pain
To see my tears cascading down
Unplain boulders of rocks, rain
I want to be home
To see the undying rainbow of love
‘Til sun radiates above.
I want to be home
To taste salty water… eyes.
While the thick forest hides
free solitary life.
I want to be home, deep blue lagoon
To be cuddled by the little cave
Hear plea for eternal peace and rest.
I’m home, I’m home, I’m home
My deep blue lagoon
Embrace me, safe keep me
From the pain I long have known.
I’m home deep blue lagoon
Did you hear me sing my sorrowful song?
love. hate. madness. reflection. pain. existential meaning. passion. solitude. life. resurrection.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Tears
Head is tilted
Sapped of strength
Lengthy hair dropped unmoved
Spine held, supports of chair
Eyes… stares, aimless
Lips tight.
A tear glitter in the corner of an eye.
Arms just float besides.
A sigh freed.
Equivalent to a million ton
Of bloody bleed.
Unspoken
Unworded
Unsang
Down to the measured
Depths of heart’s constriction.
The lids closed in hardest effort
Tear painfully dropped.
Unsecured by truth.
She waited for the person
Whom she knew
Will not arrive.
Coffee
In the absence of moon
the water is shrouded with powder black
sweet melted bitterness
as teasing spoon is self-regrounding
heart pounding, ankle aching
hair to hair
teeth to teeth
truth baffled with circumstances
psyche bowed to patience, peace
of mixed destiny and choices...
with the last drop of coffee,
It's most of all, Choices.
She
Her back is hunched,
she carried the world;
her neck bears sunset and sunrise;
her belly carries all the babies ever born;
her heart endured through
anesthesized by old trauma;
her eyes outpour tears;
her breast were emptied out of child-bearing
But her smiles radiate everlasting Love.
Happy Mother's Day Nanay!
Father's Poem for My Nanay
(jotted at the back of an old black and white picture)
Be with me always
Take any form
Drive me mad if you will
Only please don’t leave me
Alone in this dark
Where I can’t find you
I can’t live without you
I cannot die.
I write.
Only cowards write
I’m afraid to forget you
I write.
I find a truth in you
I can’t stop the
Force of my hand to embrace
My pen and start again the
Sublime communion of a
Continuous presence that
Could only be acknowledged
When
I write.
I am not your servant.
I am not your companion.
I am not your audience.
I am not your critic.
I am not a confirmer of your sense-of-being
I could but will never be.
You don’t need my laughter.
You don’t need my mockeries.
You don’t need me
I write.
Only cowards write.
I’m afraid to lose you.
I write.
[written in 1998]
[written in 1998]
Labels:
existentialism,
poetry,
reflection,
writing
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