Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I don't know you anymore,
ever since that staycation
with your Beloved.

You were the only one who held
my heart and brain
in your pearly, white palm.
Now it's stained brown
from the endless supply of caffeine
and mugs.

What about
the scars on my back
(from my travels to many places)
that you and only you saw?
I can't help but wonder over the picture you have
of me
if they now rest in a new rucksack.

My soul,
is now in your little backpack
where everyone else lie in.

Tell me,
where did you travel to and what happened?
Did the airlines lose your culture
and replace it with a complimentary
substitute?

You've lost the identity for which
I came to know you of.
May this just be a
stopover.
There's two doors.
Behind one,
Is someone you love and adore,
And he'll love you fiercly.
He'd die for you.
He'll tell you everyday how beautiful you are,
And how much he loves you.
He'll forever take care of you,
He's safe
And he will never hurt you.
But part of you knows,
You can never love him the way he loves you.

Behind the second,
Is someone you'll love fiercly,
Passionately,
When he kisses you the world will seem to light up in flames.
Seeing him is like seeing him for the first time,
Everytime.
His very existence makes the world seem bright again.
When he's gone,
You feel almost empty.
He's dangerous,
Amazing,
And your souls are intertwined.
But he'll never love you the way you love him.

Now open a door.
Lazy Monday.
Raining Morning.
Inky pens.
Empty papers.

This 4-cornered room became a
Vast new world
When I met
You.

Your "What's your name?"
was more than a question, it was
An invitation to
A breath of fresh air,
A gulp of warm sunshine,
A waltz on green grass.

From small talk on the
Wet weather,
The films at the theater,
And our ******* professor,
Our lips spilled over.
Awkward smiles became
Shy giggles then
Uncontrollable laughter.

We pulled each other to conversations on
Artists Picasso, Van Gogh
Historians Constantino, Ocampo.
I told you about
Distant galaxies and the theory of gravity
While you said things on
Progressive policies and your farming family.
You said pick-up lines, I gave knock-knock jokes.
We tried to mash-up Let It Be and Let It Go.
Your mind was a treasure chest full of stories
Forever you
And your words are engraved in my memory.

All this ended though
When the clocks striked 3.
The session was over;
There's no reason to be here anymore
And so I guess it's best for us to just
Leave.

"It was nice meeting you."
But it's horrible that
We will never meet again.
What was us will just get lost in the plane infinity
For this moment that we shared
Is just a mere
Point of tangency.
The point of tangency is where a geometric line touches a surface once but never intersects it. This fictional poem is inspired by economic isoquant curves and budget lines, as well as all my awesome professors and classmates that I had this semester whom I will probably never meet ever again :(
Ikay' isang bata,
at ako...
hindi ko alam kung ano ako.
Pero, sa pag trato mo sa akin
ako ay mistulang laruan.
Ang aking damdamin, iyong kinatutuwaan,
ginagawang libangan.
Ako'y nasasaktan,
nalulungot,
nagagalit,
Natatakot.
Natatakot kase kahit,
ganito sa akin ang Iyong trato,
takot mawala ka.
Sapagkat ika'y akin sinisinta.
At sa kabila ng lahat ng aking dinanas,
sa mapaglaro ****' palad.
Ika'y aking parin mahal.
O' aking Maria Clara.
Naipong galit at pighati.
 Dec 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
Eat your
Vegetables.

Pack the wheelchair.
You don’t need it
Anymore.
 Dec 2014 Sofia Paderes
Jedd Ong
Tonight is but a smattering of hooves,
A suspended dance hanging
High above the half-moon forest
Dripping with bravado and sleep.

Tonight is but a quiet lake,
Awake after the storms,
Overflowing with tears,
As the children fade into the forests.

Tonight is but a dragged axe,
A momentary fear of scythes
And hooded faces with eyes
Barely peeking above the lids.

Tonight is but a withered lamp,
Flickering in-between death, life,
Lamps that utter silent prayers,
That glower at the vast Unknown

And wake
And wake
And wake.
Sick. And Over the Garden Wall.
 Dec 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
my mom tells me to
be encouraged and I
want to pry my ribs
apart and show her
my whitewashed
insides, how someone
went and took a matte
finish to my skin, I want
to show her the average
diary entry from 9:05 pm
and how I've stopped signing
my name because these letters
never get to God, I want her to
sit in on my conferences with
the empty chairs at work and
listen in on all the phone calls
I don't take, expect my showers
to be two hours long when really
i'm just filling the bathtub over
and over and      over and  
            over                  over
over



over
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Dec 2014 Sofia Paderes
TJLC
I was on the streets
Alone and dying, looking for someone.
Then, You came along.
You had a heart for me
So You picked me up and put me on Your back.
Carrying me home, You told me You loved me ever since.
For in that moment,
You introduced me to the feeling of living.
I didn’t want that feeling to end.
“No wind
No traffic lights
No one
Could ever stop me from loving You back.”

Said my soul.
But
My heart and mind
Oh why oh why should I go back
To those lonely streets?
I want to be with You and You only.
But I keep
Failing.
You gave everything to me.
My friends
My family
My life
Your heart
But I didn’t care.
I only cared for myself.
Every time.
I always fall in the same manhole.
And yet, You still reach down to me with your hand and tell me
“It’s all right.
I love you.”

Every time.
I am sorry.
No matter what we do, we will always be loved by Him.
John 3:16.
Next page