1
There was fire within and between us.
We touched ourselves
And got burned painfully, blissfully.
We stopped.
We took a bath.
Removed the ashes,
and got ready for another.
2
Hush, says the gentle moon
silhouetting the smooth mountains
that we create and recreate.
Hush, says the soft wind
caressing, flowing with our hands,
spreading fire through the forest.
Hush, say our awakened lips
locking the flame that longs
to stay long, touched and untouched.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 5:11 AM UTC
Once again,
I found myself floating
as a desert cloud,
gleaning over your gleaming
desert smile.
As I was grinding in this ceaseless harsh sky,
I found myself hungrier
as you feed my light heart
with the heaviness of
your golden particles.
And with each yearning,
with each longing,
I realize that I was,
tear by tear,
drop by drop,
minute by minute,
falling,
hugging,
absorbing into
the gentleness of your sand,
only to find myself,
seared by your heated passion
for the ancient flames
of the everlasting, yet, distant sun,
pushing me away,
sweeping me away,
evaporating,
as I form myself back
to the grating, yet, welcoming sky.
I found myself floating,
oh, once again,
as a desert cloud,
only smaller,
sadder,
harsher,
firmer,
than before.
*For April Arales,
Because broken hearts
Are really never deserted,
For they travel together
As desert clouds
In this harsh,
yet welcoming,
sky.*
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
out of a smoking jeepney,
walking through this street,
half of which was silence,
yet when nearing the light,
small clouds of darkness live,
from the hush-and-puff mouths
(like whispered howls of cold wolves)
of the dying disciples of light.
there,
among the littlest stars,
held by minute nebulae,
you i saw.
how do i love thee?
i can never count the ways.
passing this alley,
there,
you i saw,
yet not you i,
how will you love me?
there are ways, yet for i, thou have none.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:31 AM UTC
If you ever see me,
hugging someone,
let me remind you first:
the days, nights, hours,
minutes, and seconds
of silking waves
dashing on shores
of rocks, sands,
splashing to reach
the cottoning skies,
of our locking ears
capturing candy melodies
of Eden voices,
who sound as if
they were listening
to what I touch,
to what I see,
to what I absorb,
of my soft carrying
of such beautiful globe,
I, your Atlas,
You, my Gaea.
But then you choose
to desert me still,
to stay on his shores,
of overrated sands—
stones, rocks, pebbles,—
as if addicting as
their addicting brothers.
I tried, my dear,
to ride this boat,
to leave that shore,
full of echoing sands,
diamonds to your eyes,
cigarette ash to my hands.
Remember, my love,
if you ever catch me
locking my arms
with another wings
only as welcoming as a home,
for my heart overflows
with unused salt water,
and here is someone
who chooses to catch
every single droplet
of such salty sugars.
She understands,
I do hope so,
that it was not
a tie of everlasting string,
for my soft diamond rope
is still connected
to the harbor of your shores,
waiting for you
to pull it back,
the moment you will utter,
Escape, Escape, Escape.
--for A.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 6:28 AM UTC