Eight Months

You have the broadest shoulders. 

I love laying my head on them.

And resting my slightly open lips

on that quiet juncture of your neck.

You say it tickles and I smile.
Then kiss it again for fun.

I breathe your clean scent in.
Interlaced fingers and rough skin.
You idly run your hand through my hair
Then rest it on my waist.
Our typical Tuesday dates.
The doorbell rings.
And my whole world shrinks
To desperation, guilt and panic.
For a moment I can't breathe.
You never seem to notice.
Honey, pizza's here.
You leave the room whistling.
Its been eight months since I left him
But with you I still feel like I'm cheating.

Singing on Thursdays

Yesterday, I put up a booth, of both balloons and kisses
By the third bench, of that park, a few steps from the well of wishes.
That became, the place where I, puckered up for many strangers
Instead of, the fateful place, where we first met each other.

I visited, that scarlet shop, to change the way I looked
I asked for bangs, to hide the spot, you kissed when I was blue.
I let them cut, my lengthy curls, to inches, two or three,
In hopes that I forget, the gently way, you tucked behind my ear.

I bring with me, always a book, that needed to be held.
So my hand, won't look for yours, like a hollow empty shell.
And I have bought, a dozen scarves, to wraparound myself
So I won't miss, your arms, your breadth and the spicy way you smell.

I quit the smokes, and lost the rasp, you say you always liked
So when I speak, I will not hear, my voice calling you mine.
Always at night, I fall asleep, right down the very center,
So if I wake up, maybe I'll forget, how you held me during winter.

I sang alone, under that lightpost, while onlookers dropped their dimes,
That became, my first performance, instead of, our last goodbye.
Now I can barely, recognize, this girl that plays my part.
Its all a waste, despite these ways, I could not change my heart.

Song of the Moon

There was once a singer who was known through the land
Whose voice could soothe and becalm any man
She was desired and pursued but it soon became clear
She had given her heart to a man who can't hear.

This man loved her as deep, he loved her true,
With his calloused hands he made and gave her all he knew
In daylight he sculpted and painted her smile,
He held her and warmed her, kept her safe through the night.

Often she would embrace him tight from behind,
And stayed still until both of their hearts beat in time.
She laid her cheek against ear, her hands over heart,
Her slender neck over broad shoulders, soft lips against scars
Then sang. Of all the many, many ways that she loved him
And hoped not that he could hear but that he would feel her love.

But one night cruelty and avarice broke into their home
And they blinded and broke him but left her alone
Shaking and half mad, her skirts soaked in his blood,
She wailed and she begged and she cried to her God

Mercy Father, mercy for this sweet, sweet man,
Please save him and heal him, let me take all his wounds!
Take my all, take my soul, I surrender my voice
I will pay any price, I will follow him where he goes!

Slowly, through tears she saw a careful light
Surround and erase all that was marred by the night
Tenderly she was lifted, by a gentle heat,
And with relief, finally gave herself to her God and sleep.

There was once a singer who was known through the land
Whose voice could soothe and becalm any man
She was desired and pursued but it soon became clear
She had given her heart to a man who can't hear.

This man loved her as deep, he loved her true,
With his calloused hands he made and gave her all he knew
In daylight he still sculpted and painted her smile,
And at night she watched him across the many, many miles
As she lit up the sky and tried not to be blue
She prayed he could still feel the song of the moon.

Finding Nowhere

In a few weeks we have managed to walk down our histories
You showed me callouses and cupboards, laugh lines and nooks and crannies
With every room you showed me where all your nightmares hid
Then told me how my voice seemed to make them disappear.

You followed me around as I carefully riffled through
Blew dust off forgotten favorites, drew blood from some old wounds
I said sorry and you smiled so I showed you my deepest scars
Then you shrugged and without pause, you called them beautiful.

We then traveled from our memories to lands we've yet to reach
To dreams and territories, cities and secret fears
We made hours into minutes, how was life before this man?
Who showed me how beautiful it could be if I just wiped the glass.

One day as I wandered through you called me to your door
and said "Look at all the flowers I've been planting here for her."
I reel with accusations, questions, shame and guilt.
Suddenly, this stranger's house, I couldn't wait to leave.

You reach out and hold tight to my wrist, my other hand upon the gate.
You smile and ask me to stay longer, but that's just too much time to waste.
We've traveled far and wide, companion, in paths we should have made alone
You've somehow made me an intruder, in a place I thought was home.

All those miles and minutes, I think, while standing there,
Somehow together, we have managed to find and reach nowhere.

Still Echoes

It echoes through that warmth, faint and phantom it teases me,

And it stirs the air, giving me hope for what could be,

But it seems when I'm close enough to hold it in my grasp,

The wind comes to blow the words away, too weak to last.

Soundless whispers call my name, I try to catch what is not said.

I say the name with every breath and yet you hear not what is pled.

And I see you wrapped around your chosen solitude,

Every single time you entice me to intrude.

The wind murmurs secrets now, you didn't catch, you didn't touch,

The secret voiceless longing of the muted singer that I am,

The silence is too loud, the hope now too faint to warm,

The echoes of my silent tears, the sound of mourning now…

Yet it teases me your silence, it echoes through my soul,

Resounding like glass shattered, my breaking heart, my song.

(2006 Poem. Tell me what you think)

Unang Harana

Namulat ako sa himig ng pag-ibig.
Di man alam ang bawat linya'y, kabisado ko ang himig.
Namumungay pa ang mga mata habang pinanonood kitang,
nakapikit, uwaawit, yakap-yakap ang 'yong gitara.

Hindi mo ako pinilit umawit.
Kusang sumabay ang ang aking munting tinig.
Di namalayan na kahit anong hina at tinis,
Dahan dahan akong naturuang umibig.

Minsan ang mga tengang di nasanay sa tahimik.
Ilang di mabilang na taon ring namingi.
Sa balitang di ka na raw kahit kailan babalik
Di na mabati, di na aawit, walang katapusang idlip.

Naiwan ang gitara mong mag isa hanggang naluma.
Inamag na't gagamba na lamang ang tumitipa.
Maingat na binalot at tinagong magaling.
Katulad kong naghihintay kung kailan pwedeng tugtugin.
Muli.

Kahit na pilat ay abot kaluluwa ang lalim
Unti-unting nawala ang pait ng aking awit
Dahil kahit pabulong, tanda ko ang iyong himig at pag-ibig
Nakapikit, umaawit, nakayakap sa akin.

(Para kay Papa)













At heto't muling nagbabalik. Sa aking unang harana.

My Pen

(First ever attempt at free verse. August '06. Tell me what you think.)

I haven't been writing lately.
No, I've been writing but I don't like it.
I can't finish it.
I can't finish it.

You liked my hands, you told me.
You said they were beautiful.
I believed you. I wanted to.
But my hands are shaking now.

I've been trying to write my songs lately.
You said you liked my voice.
So I try to sing. Do you hear it?
No melody comes to mind right now.
No.
Melody.
The words don't fit, they can't, I can't.
Fit in this reality.

I tried again, maybe tried too much,
So now it's overdone.
But I still don't like it.
Don't want to like it.
My words, my song are bland.
You're not holding my hands.
They are empty.
They are cold.
They are shaking…

I force myself, I beg and twist,
I held the pen too tight.
I broke it. I broke it
Now it won't write.

My hands are stained now.
And they shake as they reach for it.
The pen you gave me.
Before you went away.

I still can't write lately.
Not even to you.