Category: Poetry

Entry #47


I dreamed that we got back together — intertwined in your bed
as the sun kissed our skin from the rays penetrating your window,
the sheets were blinding white, our laughter echoed like ripples from a pond
each touch was as soft as marshmallows on hot cocoa; careful in its stride,as not to break this newfound resuscitation of buried desires,
as if taken from a movie; dust in the guise of fireflies flitted all around here was
Love, alive in our dead flower bed and you were reborn – pure and unfailingly beautiful and only the imaginings of a deterred present; some picture snatched from a path not-taken


Entry #44

The world has tried to shut us down,
lock us in the household,
even branded us insane and
burned us alive when we grew too restless for their tastes
threatened by the notion that we are just as capable as our male counterparts,
that we have our own ideas, our own voices, our own stories to tell —

Every day is a constant battle, always a call to arms
against people whose loud bellows deliberately try to obliterate ours
Yet we are not so easily crushed; we break but our pieces fight ten times harder
and if anyone decides to scatter our dust, we will bring the wind along with us
as we are warriors in our own right

We are women and we refuse to be less

Entry #1

I hope you have shed your last tear on yesterday’s year-end. The last drop that you’ll keep for a while; made sure it’s stored in a glass bottle that you can wear around your neck –
a lucky charm for the year ahead – a bit of grief: the proof that you can ferry yourself through trying times

as sadness isn’t meant to be forgotten, it isn’t meant to be harbored either
it’s just good to keep it as a keepsake, a reminder – so that when happiness does come to visit
you’ll have a reference to appreciate each day in a kaleidoscope

Poor Bud

A sweet, tiny, bud ventures into the wild,
springing from the earth into the morning dew and
not a second later do dragonflies and bees pass by — measuring the reddish bud: excited for blooming, excited for unfurling —
but the insects never got the chance, never had the courage to nudge her to flower in grace, in beauty, in dignity
instead a set of fingers; a malicious giant
picked her roughly, flicked her repeatedly, pried her petals open and she thought it right, thought it natural that each pluck left her naked and used —

Poor bud, drugged to the idea that a flower she has become —
Poor bud — too early, too forced — deflowered was what she was


Counter and Clockwise

Two second-hands living in the same Big Ben
counter and clockwise beat together in a similar rhythm on opposing schedules of the day
she breaks her fast at around 8am, syncing with his injestion of supper and she collapses at midnight just as he reboots for the night shift
though they spend most of the ticks and tocks in varying angles
It was agreed upon that they meet on the sixth –
Definitely on the sixth of the week
to reconcile and kindle… caressing those can’t-be-helped blank spaces where fragments should have been


Hindi ko alam kung kailan ako natutong humiling,
noong unang ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata ng maghigpit,
kapit kamay, hagkan ang puso at hinto sa paghinga –

Humiling na sana magkaroon ako ng bahay para sa aking Manika,
bagong damit at tsaka kaibigan din nito –

Hindi ko alam kung kailan ako huminto,
Pinagtatawanan na lamang ang dasal at mahika na para bang
hindi ako naging bata,
Sa pang-araw araw na para akong nauupos na posporo dahil
ipinaubaya ko na ang aking kaluluwa

Hiling ko sana’y magpahinga, huminga,
makiramdam at nang magmahal muli


Soft – are the curves of your smile,
my stomach on the inside
your lips against mine

Warmth – is the sun in your eyes
my hands under your skin
your arms, a blanket I sink in

Bliss – each second that ticks
my heart ensnared
your love is –