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It's so quiet.
It's so strange.
I've never heard silence so loud before.
The drum beats loud and echoes out
leaving us alone in this emptiness.
Come on, love
don't leave me hanging from this cliff.
Don't leave me alone to die.

I know times are hard and you can't stand on your own,
but that doesn't mean you have to leave.
Don't run away from this pain.
Just come into my arms and stay.
At the end of the day
the rain will be blown over and all the flowers will be bloomed.
Even the toughest storms leave beauty for the eyes to love.

Don't get swallowed up in the shadows.
I'll be your light.
I'll guide you,
just follow my feet.
I'll lead you into me and hold you until your numb.

You're standing in the ocean
welcoming the salt water into your body.
Dry your eyes and swim to the shore
because I'll be waiting there.
Just please don't go.
Because if you leave I might just have to follow.
2014
On this night,
my heart forgot to stop loving you.

With star dusted verse and milky way melody,
I sang to you a jasmine scented lullaby.
Through crescent waves of moonbeam,
I breathed my lavender love into your dream.

In the morning when you wake, will you feel me there,
as sunlight, streaming through your sleep damp hair?


Mine is the heart that forgot to stop loving you.
Yours, the heart that could not remember to begin.
 Jan 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
I use to hope that you'd keep that
photo of me tacked by your bedside
but you took it down, (vengefully)
I know this because you tore out the portraits
of me from your sketchbook the first time around

so I hope you find bobby pins still within your clothes
catch whiffs of my old perfume on the streets and feel your
spine cinch softly, I hope a single earring rolls forward in the
desk drawer, but I really cannot hope these things anymore.

so i hope the earring stays lodged in the crack, that all stray bobby
pins find their way back and that my perfume is never worn, never worn
never worn. I hope that my perfume is never worn
around
you.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014



a spin-off. A poem on no longer being angry.
I kiss the fresh breeze as
The rainforest canopy embraces me.
I still my spirit
And tune my heart
To the natural symphony:

Wind whistling
Brook bubbling
River rushing
Branches creaking
Leaves rustling
Twigs snapping
Owls hooting
Birds singing
Monkeys chattering
Bats screeching
Frogs croaking
Fish blubbing
Deer belling
Snakes hissing
Boars grunting
Crocs roaring
Bees buzzing
Crickets chirping
Beetles humming

And then there is me
Dancing

To the beat and melody
Of the simple
Yet glorious masterpiece.
(How could something so wild
Tame me?)
Listen very closely as
Man and nature
Enjoy each other's
company and
Love one another
In unity.
I thank Wikipedia for educating me about the sounds that animals make yay
 Jan 2014 Sofia Paderes
laura
Of course, there are distinct disadvantages to surviving a scandal:
You lose your friends.          
You lose your trust.
You lost all credibility in what you dearly love.

You begin an intimate, five-day relationship, seducing a slick-barreled gun that sings your name.

But after a while, you unwrap your lips from around the gun. You grab your pen. And you write. Because when it's all said and done, that is what you do.

Write.
Sinubukan kong bihisan ng titik at tugma
Ang ilang mga bagay-bagay na iiwan ko
Sa'yo sa oras na pumailanlang na ang diwa
Ng aking mga tula. Ngunit gaya ng dati,

Unos na dumatal ang aking luha, linunod
Nito ang mga kataga, muling nabalot ng
Hiwaga ang bawat saknong  na dapat sana'y
Malaon nang yumabong sa iyong pang-unawa.

Gayun pa man, manatili kang manampalataya
Sa kahulugan ng kawalang kahulugan ng daigdig
Na ito. At nawa, sa pagpagpag mo sa tarangkahan ng
Kahapon, buong pagpupugay **** idambana

Ang paulit-ulit ng siklo at sigwa ng ating pag-ibig.
Para kay Khiwai.

University of the Philippines---Diliman
Quezon City, Philippines
January 28, 2014
 Jan 2014 Sofia Paderes
Morgan
so close
I can almost
taste it at
the bottom
of my
ceramic
teacup,
on any given
Thursday
afternoon

yet so far
away
I can see
the details
in the moon
with less strain
on certain
Sunday
evenings
 Jan 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
how do you love yourself
how do you love
how do you
how do
how
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
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