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Louise 1d
There was once a haunted tree,
not feared by many, in fact,
only by that of a young spinster.
But of five and twenty,
liked by many, however,
only a few were ever called her lover.

Until she met a man that felt like an army,
like hundreds of men marching,
whose loyalty was sworn for her beauty.
Until one man felt like a war waging,
yet like a calm ocean breeze blowing
and like silent marching into the dark sea.

Until there came the lover whose laughter
felt like an ache from a life long gone,
whose smiles felt like gunshots.
Until there was he who felt like home,
yet as distant as the tides are to the moon
and as untouchable as a silky thunderbolt.

There was a tree the spinster holds dear,
so close to her ever yearning heart.
This tree, she likens to that of her lover.
whose branches threatens to fall on her,
bears fruits that if they so choose to plummet,
someone would get hurt, and that would
be her.

And then there was a legend that this tree,
that was once a fruit of another host
that was fabled to be haunted.
But before the tales of horrors and shrieks,
it was abundant, it was the guide to the lost
until it was axed, hunted as needed.

All of this tree's fruits turned to be of toxins,
opposing the townspeople's songs of praises.
All its branches grew webs upon cleaving,
challenging the tales of awes and delight.
All of which except for one, a golden fruit,
the root's promise and hope of the fallen.

What the preachers say could be of truth,
their words she avoided could be gospel.
What the non-believers say could be a tale,
their rumors could save her from demise.
What if the tree is just as rotten as the root,
what if it is indeed the produce from hell?
A take on "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" and an exploration of a fear.
Louise Apr 26
Your grumpy face in the mornings,
Your exhausted sigh in the evenings
Every late night until late breakfasts,
Every sunset that makes us whisper "at last"
All that makes us ourselves, all that's true
are all the reasons that makes me love you.
Catching the sunrise, breathing in the ocean breeze during the heat of summer.
Watching the snowfall and embracing the freeze during the hell of winter.
Our hands are locked through it all
These are the daily, mundane moments
I don't mind living with you and leaving with you for every rise and fall.

Please intertwine your routines with mine
Won't you spend sunsets with me
in the summertime?
I am not one to believe in forever after,
but I am one with you
for all seasons and weather.
The brand of routine rewriting I would like

"Luxuries" trilogy - part 3 of 3
Louise Apr 16
Your sweat dripping and mixing with mine
Your sudden ramblings and whine
The uneven summer sun tans
The reds and scratches on your back
All natural, and all I ever want
These are the things
I daydream on the daily.
These are the days
I imagine myself living.
Your absence,
the single worst lethal threat
Your face,
so close while catching our breaths
Our hands,
always there for each other to hold.
All these makes for the moments
that makes our love worthy of it all.

Oh I beg you to please annoy me.
Cause me all these inconveniences.
Come closer, stop being such a tease.
Make me the most vexed woman to exist.
The type of inconveniences I crave and want

"Luxuries" trilogy - part 2 of 3
Louise Apr 6
Your jacket with your trademark scent
Your deep-set eyes makes my knees bend
The sonorous sound of your laugh
The accidental touch from your hand
Occasional, yet each are monumental
These are the things I dream
of having even just once.
These are the moments I crave
the taste of, even just an ounce.
Your hands on my hair
Us breathing in the same air
Our hands, intertwined
These are the turning moments
I'll play on my turntable on rewind

Oh spoil me, please spoil me
Give me all these life's luxuries
Come closer, hold me, give it all to me
Make me the richest woman to ever exist.
My kind and taste of luxuries I want in life

"Luxuries" trilogy - part 1 of 3
Louise Oct 2022
My city...
I was here before it was even one,
my toys are older
than the high-rise buildings.
Yet all of my oldest dreams
have long been gone,
this is where new people
from far-away are dreaming.

People dream to visit here
even for a day,
I can't count the years
I've been trying to escape.
People travel here
to have a sip of coffee,
even the taste of water here
can tell that I am sick.

In the inner city,
while everyone takes photographs,
I try my best to walk
with my shoulders not dropped.
In the chic cafes
where others strike a pose,
I knew I never wanted more,
I had my dose.

My city,
that many people dream
of visiting and living in,
why, then there's me
who's here and feeling livid in.
My now-larger-city
that still feels like a small town,
I feel suffocated,
as if all my life I'm in a tight gown.
I'm sick of the city life. About d*mn time
Louise Aug 2022
My body is a tropical island
Full of wonders, views are grand
A spectacle of various rare terrains,
overwhelming for the unadventurous
and exhausting for the meager brains.
My body boasts of all the different
exotic textures and new colors,
something your waiting eyes
must be ready to marvel at.
My body takes pride in its
mountain-like curves;
not exactly the perfect shapes
but awe-inspiring, like a painting.
something your anticipating hands
has to feel thrilled to touch.
However, my body is also known
for its extraordinary yet abrupt movements;
scary for most and sensual for some.
Like earthquakes and typhoons,
you'll never know when the rhythms come.
Something your foreign familiarity
would either be thrilled or petrified about.
So I welcome you to this island of mine,
leave your worries back to the shore,
clear your soul and free your mind.
Leave exhilarated and in monsoon,
my rainforest flora forever in bloom.
Come... if you dare...
Louise Aug 2022
Marahil walang isang salita
ang makakapag-bigay linaw
Sa kadilimang taglay ng tuwina,
sa aking labi, tila nawawala ang ilaw

Mga mata'y malayo ang tanaw
ngunit hindi nito saklaw ang pagitan
Higit na malawak at binabalot ng panglaw,
sa paggising ay salat sa iyong galaw

At oo, tila nagkakaiba ang wika
na kilala ng ating mga dila,
kaya't iaalay na lamang ang buwan at araw
sa'yo, aking mahal, pati na rin aking diwa

Mula sa sulok ng aking silid
at sa isip na puspos ng suliranin,
isinusulat itong munting tula
sa buwan ng aking wikang kilala

Mga kamay ko'y ipinagdiriwang
na mayroong ikaw at ikaw ay akin,
ipinagbubunyi ang buwan ng ikaw
puso'y tatangis hangga't ika'y makapiling
Isang tula para sa buwan ng wika.
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