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Sharing a Hammock One Lazy Sunday Afternoon

My love
you are
everything that a home should be
safe and warm
strong and secure
steadfast and sure.

As I lie tightly enfolded
awake while you sleep
my fingertips trace your back
trailing down the curve of your spine
and back up to your shoulder blades
back and forth
in lazy patterns
every inch of my fortress
memorized.

I write on your skin,
Mahal kita
because I do
I love you
and did you know
that even sleeping
you can take my breath away?

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I feel like there should be fireworks, really.

My favorite thing
about the way
you look at me, babe
is that now and then
I catch it
that little hint of wonder
and a bit of disbelief, too
that you found me
that I’m real
we’re real
and I’m yours.

I want to run to the mirror
and check
if there’s something there
something changed
something special
that makes you look at me
just like that
like I’m precious.
and utterly unique.
and you’ll never
never ever
let me go.
What is it, babe?
There must be something.

But nothing’s different.
Still the same old
chin and cheeks and nose
familiar and ordinary.
But wait—
Wait
My smile is new.
It’s changed
like I’ve won the lottery
without buying a ticket
(imagine that!)
and in my eyes,
that same disbelief
that same giddy wonder
that you found me.
You finally found me.
My darling
my sweetest love
I could spend my whole life
just looking at you.

*****

I wrote this for Carry On Tuesday, in response to the These are a few of my favourite things prompt taken from one of my most favorite movies, The Sound  of Music. The challenge is open all week. Join us!

Disenchanted

In my younger and more vulnerable years —

Hah.
I say that as if I am aged
As if my armor is perfect
But I’m not, and it’s not
And what I am, I confess
is scared.

Not cynical, not jaded
Just plain old afraid
With fingers clutching tattered remains
Of faith misplaced.

So when I say,
“When I was young and vulnerable”
What I actually mean
Is that once upon a time
I was brave.

*****

This was written as a response to a prompt on Carry On Tuesday.

Track Nine at the Train Station

Let us have this final moment

The last before we part

Like the sunset, grand and silent

Sailing off into the west

One last lingering touch of color,

One last glorious burst of fire

Before the horizon inevitably

Steals it from our sight…

Let us not waste this precious urgency

With promises and sighs

Say goodbye to me, beloved,

Only with your eyes.

* inspired by the movies Before Sunrise and Anna and the King


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December in Paraiso

The trees are dripping stars
in Puerto Princesa
And gold flutters over the streets
But he never sees them, his eyes are fixed
on the cup in his hand
and the passing feet.

There is music always where the people gather
Songs of giving and of love
The parks are jammed with merrymakers
He is invisible
in the rush.

The night winds are kind
in Puerto Princesa
But not to a boy without clothes
Long after the parks are empty, the fountains still;
he huddles there – his cup filled

— with nothing but cold.

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Huling Katha

Ubos na ang tula
para sa iyo
Said na ang mga salita
Ito na ang huling pagkakataong
iaalay sa iyo ang katha.

Kumukupas na
ang larawan mong
nakaukit sa gunita
At ang naiwan pang pakiramdam
‘Di ko na ititinta.

Mahusay din pala
ang mga taon
sa pagturong limutin ka
Balikan ko man ang nakaraan,
wala nang hapding nadarama.

Ubos na ang tula
para sa iyo,
Said na rin ang mga luha.

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Aftermath

There is stillness here
after the storm
has spent its strength
and its casualties
of fallen frangipani flowers
pervade the night air
with fragrance.

There is silence here
not even a whisper
or a breath of wind
disturbs the mist
and the grass,
soaked with diamonds,
muffles the sound
of dripping branches.

And there is solitude
in the empty streets
as the pavement gleams
in the glow
of the light posts.

But not for me.

I hear echoes of laughter
as the frangipani scent
intoxicates

and voices
reveling
in the glitter
of rainwashed stars;

I sense footsteps
on the pavement,
but I know –

I am alone.

I am most alone
after it rains.

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