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 Nov 2013 Gwen Pimentel
R
10w
 Nov 2013 Gwen Pimentel
R
10w
ive never wanted to kiss
lips until i saw yours.
we own teacups
of porcelain   that
make up a couple
her always filled with coffee
mine with tea
this was what became
our morning routine
to spend time until the cups are emptied

we talk about irrelevant things
matters and thoughts that do not
have acquaintance with consequence
how it'd be possible to raise goldfishes in ***** bottle
we kept for remembrance or how many cookies could
the porcelain beauty we held so dearly possibly contain
sometimes we waste a good morning
watching wisps of steam          rise                    and vanish
like the way people seem to get out of sight after bidding goodbyes
after a certain distance they'd be nothing more than a sihlouette
and after time     slowly they get out of mind

one day you'd realize
that no longer can you conjure their sihlouettes   in memory     nor
can you remember the way they walked away
were they off in a hurry or their footsteps
heavy as the heart the carried that very winter morning
when snow didnt fall like predicted by the weatherman the night before
(and that was when you realised the weight of goodbyes)

these are the thoughts that occupy
my mind when I wash our cups
and notice (everytime) stain rings around the innerside of the cups
three quarters full of coffee          and half a cup of tea
we'd store the cups after
hers always facing left
they would sit silently       never a word of complain
as such nice mannered tableware,     cups are.
they'd wait silently for every next morning
to be filled,        coffee          and         tea.

I always thought of her          as a hot chocolate person
until one morning I saw sunlight caught in the dark lazy curls of her hair
until how the dark coloured liquid resembled the colour in her eyes
and came to a silent agreement with myself
how she suited coffee on lazy mornings the way
coffee suited her when she tipped her cup ever so slightly
and     sipped       like she'd found peace in mind
now I smile when she asks why I stopped telling her teacups are meant for tea
(that there are no absolutes in the things we do)

there are mornings she would wake to find me
already awake and silently staring at the rain pelted windows
legs crossed at the foot of the bed and singing
singing softly in russian

I'd end
always at Дорогая
and asks    if she
wants coffee.
 Nov 2013 Gwen Pimentel
R
11/14/13
 Nov 2013 Gwen Pimentel
R
his smile is so nice
like the sweet smell of christmas
or a surprise snow day
even the sunrise can't beat that smile of yours
mhmmm....
you remind me of christmas morning.
a child's face, excited for the presents.
excited for the belief of Santa.
excited because you know
someone cares for you.
i get excited everyday because of you.
excited for the presents of your presence.
excited for the belief of you.
excited because i know
you care for me
and i care for
you.

you are my christmas morning.
and that smile of yours gets me
everytime.
I don't get why your ****** eyes can't see
I don't get why your short frame can't grasp
I don't get why your semi-average mind can't understand
I don't get why it can't seep in your dark skin and chubby belly that

I  l o v e  y o u

because you care for your friends with utmost loyalty, sincerity
because your eyes shine with fire for the things and the ones you love
because you never run out of wild stories and theories
because your laugh is more than enough to make me laugh along
because your crazy ways take me in an adventure, not chaos definitely
because you would rather be odd in this apathetic world for the sake of chivalry
because you give me more innumerable insane reasons
but actually, simply
because you

You may see yourself as someone unlovable, detestable
but please get rid of that nonsense
because I am here
and very soon,
distance and time would get in the way but
I will always be here and

**I  l o v e  y o u
To the members of the "PG Gang", I hope you understand that Grade 11 loves you guys! Our class would be totally different without you crazyasses. You guys are not a joke, you are family awwwjsdkfjhsdkjfh so cheesy I can puke right now. I can't think of a better title I am sorry.
I just received a letter of warning
From the people of PETA no doubt
Informing me they've seen my new picture
I think the chicken must have ratted me out

Well you can rest cause I can assure you
In the picture no poultry was harmed
And the chicken also was taken
From a free range organic natural farm

The letter held all the usual jargon
About lawyers and lawsuits and such
It's not like the chicken was wasted
After filming I had her over for lunch

So let me tell all you people at PETA
Don't get your ******* all up in a ***
Right after my head she laid, I supplied the Preparation H
Then carried her gently to the chopping block
 Nov 2013 Gwen Pimentel
marina
he said
sorry, i
totally just
spilled my
heart out
to you


don't worry
i told him
**i know the
feeling
sorrythismakesnosense
The **** has moved on,
So I should now too.
Somewhere in the darkest corners
Of a speck of land
Shadowed on a world map,
There is a girl who still believes in wonder.

She is childlike faith vacuum sealed
In pint-sized hope
A revolution craving to be lit up,
A breath of fresh air to anyone who has lived through dirt and pollution,
A livewire of well-kept new ideas.

She is a book.
A good one but a closed one.
A book that sits on the front shelves at bookstores
But nobody dared to read between her lines.

But other than the galaxies of impossibilities she has sketched up in her head,
She is nothing more than short of perfection,
Small
Flawed
Misunderstood
But
Her hopeful whispers needed a microphone.

She believes in the hustle and bustle of success in her little speck of land
Impossible, it may seem
as she IS a speck
in a sliver of land
in a country that is almost always forgotten by anyone who has browsed through a map,
Disregarded by other countries
Abandoned by its own people
But forget the size on a scale of the earth.
Little as she is,
to her, her speck of land is big enough
Big enough to fill with all the love a person is capable of.
Big enough to fill with hands that held each other tight enough to be called unity
Big enough to be filled with more confidence in the country
than pride in personality.
In fact, the word "big" is too little
To describe the way she sees things.

She believes in herself
But she also believes that she is small.
And insanely enough, she believes she can be both
That her individuality for a stand out country
Could not be limited by
A weak immune system
Or the amount of inches she grows in a year
Or the color of her hair.

Yes, when the world gets tough,
And when everything larger
Turns against her
Pressing her into a cage of painful pressure,
She helps herself
By sticking her hand out for the very people who make her weak.
Because courage turns into cowardice
If it is not used to stand up for others.

And though she is small,
That only means she could make her way through
The narrow roads
In a tricky path called life.
Bending when branches of trouble swept above her,
Crouching when the rain poured,
And slipping into deep spaces.

But more importantly,
Overpowering all her beliefs,
She believes in something higher,
In something much stronger than the strength of her imagination,
In something that could turn her plans into a reality,
And the best part of it all is that this "higher force"
Is a He
And He believes in her
Much more than she believes in Him.
She holds her plans for this country in a teapot,
But He is the One who pours it over us
Until this cup, this country, overflows.

She believes this country is ready.
And as for Him, well,
So does He.

But no matter how wondrous she makes the future of this country seem,
We are still everything she didn't say we would be.
So, scavenge your heart for the truth,
Dig around for treasure and hope,
Seek high and low for even the little shards of faith,
Because one day,
We might just find her
In you and in me.
"How can young Filipino Christians demonstrate leadership and contribute to nation building?"

This poem was my answer in the finals of my school's spoken word poetry competition.
I found this love
like playing tetris

Anxiety at the falling of pieces
too fast

There are still holes in there

And I stand like a brick wall now
full of peep-holes
and glory holes
all places to let the cold in

And maybe I held you like a blanket

And maybe we played each other like Jenga
pulling out bricks
to restack somewhere else

A smaller structure
But stronger than we are
First time I have touched a computer with internet access in months. Writing this freestyle from a library somewhere in San Diego. Much love HP.
He decided to put it off.
To not tell her how he really felt.
He thought it would change things,
And boy did it, but not how he expected....

He thought she would climb mountains and cross rivers to earn his love.
He thought he was too good for her.

When in reality, she was the one to escape when she didn't get what she wanted.

Her instincts told her he was bad news. But like any other adolescent wreck, she desired a bad boy. Her best friend accused her of insanity as she fell for the motorcycle-riding, cigarette-rolling, tattooed rebel. But she simply ignored it.

You had to give him props: he wasn't all bad:
He made her feel special, made her feel wanted. Held her hand in public, took her for romantic rides, listened to her as she spilled her feelings out to him on top of his garage, gazing longingly at the stars.

But as soon as it came down to the three magic words, he let his opportunity slide right by him.

From then on, he played hard to get, not opening up to her as easily, and the signs were clear as crystal to her.

She left him in a heartbeat.

Now he lies alone, yearning for the days when he has someone to hold.
He was afraid to admit he missed her, but missing her was all that he knew to do.

Now riding her very own Harley Davidson, she rides off into the night, forgetting the boy who refused to admit he loved her..
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