i.

Next to the seashore
Of Boracay beach;
Seahorse's oscillate
To the turquoise seep.

ii.

Dawn turneth dusk
As the firefly's light;
The hole's in the sky
Burning brightly, heaven's sight.

iii.

Mine inamorata valentine
Covered in seasalt salve;
Out of the deep blue
She arise's from the shell's.

v.

Walking toward's me
Coming mine way;
We lay upon ourn blanket
Whilst cuddling, reminiscing the day.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication

There are always new places
For our feet, always
Another,
Wearing out the shoes,
The veins, and soles.
I learned to love the world
From your waist down.
There is no end for travel.

We travel and travel more.
The buses fill, the jeepneys,
And the planes. The trains fill,
Terribly fill. Boracay fills.
And what a tedious postcard
This is,

When the whole point
Of the matter is this: that
We are bound, headed, destined
To someplace else,
Boundless, vast
And everlasting--
A non-lifetime--

Which pretty much answers
Why love does not return.
I think that love could,
But must not return.
And I will carry you on,
You,
On my back,
Just to prove it.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”
― Mahatma Gandhi


Malaking bahay, maraming pera at katakot-takot na mamahaling mga bagay-bagay. Ito ang pangarap ng marami at pinagsusumikapan ng halos lahat ng taong nabubuhay. Kunsabagay walang masama sa mga ito, ika nga libre lang ang mangarap. Pero hindi lahat ay pinagpala, hindi lahat nagkakamit ng pangakong gantimpala. Kaya nga may mahirap at mayaman. Habang may mga nagpapala sa initan ng kalsada may mga naka-de-kwatro na salaula at mga mapang-upasala sa loob ng aircondition na ‘kwarto.

Masarap maging mayaman, yun bang masagana at hindi kinukulang. Yung kahit anong oras ay ‘pwede kang mag-abroad, o di kaya naman ay kumain sa mga mamahaling restaurants kahit anong oras mo mapag-tripan. Tapos pag summer time na syempre maliligo naman dun sa Boracay. Foam Party sa gabi at katakot’takot na sosyalan sa buong magdamag. Sarap talaga ng buhay ng isang mayaman. Pero anong halaga ng lahat ng mga ito? Madadala mo ba ang laksa-laksang karangyaan na tinipon mo? Diba hindi naman?  

Karunungan, ito ang higit na mahalaga – higit pa sa kayamanan. Hindi katalinuhan na nakukuha sa mga aklat at natutunan sa mga mamahaling unibersidad. Ang maunawaan ang katuturan ng buhay mo yan ang importante sa lahat. Ang lubos na maunawaan ang mga hiwaga na nasa pagitan ng pagsilang at ng kamatayan ito ang tunay na kayamanan. Ang umibig at yakapin ang minamahal na parang hindi mo na makikita ang bukas. Katulad ito sa sanlibong sinag ng araw sa iyong puso. Ang makita ang paglaki ng iyong mga anak at makasama sila sa hapag tuwing oras na ng kainan. Ito ang mga tunay na yaman na walang katapat na halaga. Ito ang mga bagay na dapat nating pagsumikapan na makamtan.

To fully understand this is to bridge
The hundred islands of Pangasinan,
Or to darken the sands of Boracay.
I say, let alone the confusion,
The thrill, the beauty,
And let us love terribly, fully,
Crazy, and make sweet follies,
In the simplest way
We could ever know,
Saying,

Love does not ask,
And does not answer.
It only feels.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I.
I thought you were the one.
I imagined us flying to Manila, meeting the entire family,
you proposing on the pristine sands of Boracay or
in the small village where you used to play with spiders.
I thought of possible baby names pronounced beautifully
in both of our families' native tongues.

II.
We grew together, abandoned defenses until you were my only confidant.
I still haven’t recovered from the way you used that against me:
Sealing my confessions into bullets in a magazine and making sure
I was centered in the crosshairs of the scope,
a different kind of target practice.

III.
You were my special kind of poison, the kind that slipped through my veins
unnoticed until it corrupted my cardiac muscle and collapsed my lungs.
I ate away at myself until I was small enough not to threaten you,
and even that wasn’t enough.
I finally got the courage to leave you, but I formed a thick cocoon
around my chrysalis of secrets to protect myself from you
and the next.

IV.
It’s been two years and I still have you, your mother,
and every Carlsbad or Mira Mesa area code blocked.
You realized you could invade my voicemail so you rang in 2019,
screaming whiskey-soaked wishes for a better year for us both.
I honestly believe you want that, in your own way.
I wish you the best too, but
I have outgrown you.

how long has it been?
its not like we have nothing to say to each other still
for i know you've been to paradise
of yourself
and i've been to hell and back
without leaving my room

and do we still see the same sunset above us
will you still smell the same flowers i've planted
can i still recognize your handwriting
on your rough boutique paper
with petals on its fibers

and i've been playing that scene in my head
again and again
the sail of a beached yawl on a peaceful boracay
how we wanted to brave the tide to board it
keep it to ourselves
how we were one in that fantasy

sail the world
you have, and i will never
but doesn't mean i have no stories to tell you

how long has it been
it doesn't matter
i like your stories of travel and paradise
i have stories of home, and family, and hardship, and cheap twenty peso milk teas

how it didn't even matter to me that you were gone
only that you weren't here within me

it doesn't matter now
it matters that i can reach you
beloved
i have no more empty letters to give you