I write because I read. I read because I write.
Here. Let’s share
my mitten-hand.
I’m from the tropics—
tower of sea and sand.
I know. I know
you understand.
Here. Let’s share
my early coffee cup,
blessed with its own
shadow-thin cloud.
No, darling,
don’t look up.
Here. Come here.
My wrapped arms
warm and raw.
Melt with me before
this dear mountain thaws.
—
sing to me Polaris’ song
steady, constant of the north.
show my midnight lullaby
softly rocking, back and forth.
see the map on my pillow
salted as sunbathing seas.
shoo my fears, shoo them for me.
—
once smooth as petals
will shrink into a crumpled
autumn leaf, waiting
for annual earth’s melting to
fertilise spring’s kids.
—
earth’s coating on late autumn (a
yard of naked trees open for the
early frost) not death but a promise
stamped on your irises’ bows.
—
rolled sunset crawls
to kiss whale’s home,
persimmon spilled.
wilted leaves arch
towards foliage tomb,
autumn fulfilled.
cold keys hang
void of fingers, warm,
bite the seed of hope
will it burst some
bitter crumb?
consider the possibility
of wings once
our breaths
succumb
—
There are babies
inside the basins,
drifting nine feet
above the ground.
Roads, houses
s w a l l o w e d
by the rivers’
s w o l l e n mouths.
A man inside
a mosquito net,
I know, he got no
magic wand.
His tongue
has power, though,
if only he cared
enough
for the baby
inside a basin-bed
for people floating,
floating.
Dead.
—
—
My home country, the Philippines, is facing COVID-19 like yours. Aside from this and its impact, my fellow Filipinos have been battered by back-to-back typhoons.
Provinces, cities, houses, lives swallowed by flood, some even as high as 13 feet. Until now, there are people and animals on the roofs, waiting for rescue. If you are able to, any help in whatever form will highly be appreciated. Thank you. 🙏🏼
Please visit this link to know more: https://helptheph.carrd.co/
i wish i’ve puppy-paws
to dig through the muck
of this year.
i wish i’ve puppy-eyes
to bend my
Master’s will.
i wish i’ve a puppy-nose
to smell happiness
from a mile.
i wish i need not
to wish for a real,
real smile.
—
there is a painting
outside my window,
hell magneting
the day sun’s glow.
stain of last night
rests on my pillow—
my unraveling
with moonlight’s bow.
feels a few feet from
my reach, the sky,
if only dusk can
give me wings to fly.
—
Close to seven months now, the pandemic situation has kept me inside a cream-colored, four-cornered room inside the belly of a city with tongues not of my own. Alone.
The first months caught me off guard, I got no printed books to keep me company. Hence I took to subscribing to virtual ones like @scribd .
This gave me an idea to create an ebook with short poems, providing a quick read for hearts looking for comfort, such as mine.
With the help and support of the husband, @shubhodeeproy , I am happy to share with you my third poetry collection, “In Three Lines”.
Unlike the first two, this one is exclusively available as an ebook via the following links:
All support will be highly appreciated. ❤
—
if moon is made of cheese
i will call it mine,
every night, i’ll sink my teeth
to its gooey-divine.
if moon is made of cheese
i’ll swim in pools of wine,
to drown the emptiness
of our mattressed-shrine.
if moon is made of cheese
i’ll drink its yellow shine,
to cheer the longing of
my autumn, drooping spine.
if moon is made of cheese
i will call it mine,
for you are too far away
tonight, my darling sun.
—
