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 Dec 2019 shi
M e l l o
 Dec 2019 shi
M e l l o
you are his poetry
so he writes about your beauty
in between the lines
of his flawed rhymes
you'll find a
vulnerable guy
Dec. 22
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
minsan nang nalimutang sumulat
nautal, nagtagal sa iilang salita
na hindi ko man lang napansin
na ang pagiibigan pala natin ay isang buhay na tula
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
dinadama ang malakas na ihip ng hangin
sa akin
ano nga bang dapat gawin
sa tuwing
binabalot na ng dilim
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
 Dec 2019 shi
Random Guy
at patuloy na nahuhulog
sa kung anong nararamdaman sa dibdib
isang hukay
na kumakain sa konsepto
ng sarili kong buhay

may lulang dala
may sakit na kasama
na hindi na rin pala dama
dahil ang araw-araw
ay isang paulit-ulit
na nahuhulog
at patuloy na nahuhulog
sa kawalan ng mundo

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
What’s the best thing in the world?
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;
Truth, not cruel to a friend;
Pleasure, not in haste to end;
Beauty, not self-decked and curled
Till its pride is over-plain;
Light, that never makes you wink;
Memory, that gives no pain;
Love, when, so, you’re loved again.
What’s the best thing in the world?
—Something out of it, I think.
 Nov 2019 shi
Maya Angelou
Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
of a certain end.

The other, the end of a
sure beginning.
 Nov 2019 shi
Maya Angelou
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
 Nov 2019 shi
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
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