Tuwing balikan ko ang nangakaraang
araw na nagugol noong kabataan.
Wari'y nagbabalik ang diwang malumbay,
na minsang dinanas niring abang buhay.

Ang bawat nagdaang aking mga araw,
doon sa luntiang ating paaralan
gunita ay pawang dusa't kapanglawan,
ang bumabalot niring balintataw.

Subalit ang dusang nakapanghihina,
pilit napapawi ng mumunting saya.
Ang isang bituing kahali-halina'y
naging hugot-lakas niring pusong aba.

Hindi ko mawari noon yaring dibdib,
tuwing binabaybay ang daang matinik.
Anong ubod sayang naglaro sa isip,
ang sinintang Musa ng aking pagibig.

Simula nang ikaw ay aking mamasdan
O! hangad kong tala sa sangkalangitan,
hindi ko malirip at di na maparam
tila nanggayumang lagi sa isipan.

At magbuhat noo'y aking hinahangad;
ang sangkalangita'y aking malilipad,
upang mahahaplos ang talang pangarap
at isang dahilan niring pagsisikap.

Subalit ang hangad wari'y panaginip
at tila'y malabo itong makakamit.
Pagkat ako'y lupa't ikaw'y nasa langit,
at kutad ang pakpak at walang pangsungkit.

Ang tanging nagawa, sa layo'y pagmasdan.
Puso'y inaaliw sa taglay **** kinang,
at kung anong siglang sa akin nanahan,
ang sanlibong dipa'y lakaring di pagal.

Iyon ang gunita't aking kabataan,
doon sa mahal kong ating paaralan.
Kung pagsaulan ko'y pawang kapusukan,
subalit tiyak kong sa puso ay bukal.

Sumapit ang yugtong di ko na namasdan
ang tanging bituing aking minamahal.
Pagkat ay nalayo ako sa tahanan,
upang susuungin ang bago kong daan.

Ang pakiwari ko'y sa taong nagbago,
paghanga'y aayon at ito'y maglaho.
Tulad ng magapok ang buhay na bato,
kung saan inukit ang puso't ngalan mo.

Taon ay nagdaa't panaho'y lumipas,
ngunit ang paghanga'y hindi kumukupas.
Hindi ko maarok na lalong nagningas,
nang muling magtagpo ang ating nilandas.

Kaya ninais kong maipapahayag,
ang mga damdaming sa puso'y nailimbag.
Limang ikot-araw ang mga nagwakas,
magpahanggang ngayo'y laging umaalab.

Ikaw ang bituing aking hinahangad,
isa sa nagtanglaw niring aking landas.
Ang Musa sa puso't tanging nililiyag,
ang umakay niring diwa na sumulat.

At ngayon ay aking naipapabatid,
dito sa talatang nagsalasalabid.
Mula sa paghanga't tungo sa pagibig,
ang hindi maihayag niring dilang umid.

Papalarin kaya itong abang lingkod,
at mula sa langit ikaw'y pumanaog?
Diringgin mo kaya yaring tinitibok
ng pusong noon pa'y sa'yo umiirog?

At kung yaring akda'y sa'yo walang lasap,
ipaguumanhin ang pusong sumulat.
Ninanais ko lang na maipahayag,
ang aking pagtangi sa'yo at paglingap.

At kung kasadlakan nito'y pagkabigo,
sa aking paglapit, ikaw ay lalayo.
Tanging hinihiling, sa iyong pagtakbo,
nawa'y di burahin ang mga yapak mo.

©Raffy Love Canoy |March 2020|

If your hand was the sun;
Mine would be Icarus.

They are the sun;
irreplaceable;
only one.
They will shine for eternity:
alighting infinity.
Without their gold-
a world of grey,
mark my words
they are the sun.

And nothing brings more light than the sun
no thing nor being brighter than thus
could **** with it's touch,
Deceases the darkness
with the warm glow
that emits from its face
touching you-
body and soul,
with every trace
Naturally;
effortlessly;
completely unaware of its ability
to so wholeheartedly
sooth ones soul
By existing.

They’re the sunlights’ magic
existing as human bones
through glimmering rays of honey tones
they are the sun,

they are the sun.

My sister’s a mister. She cares for her plants,
Her orchids from Cuba, Tahiti, or France.
She grows lovely children entirely from scratch
In homemade production runs, two to the batch.
She teaches the women of her little town
To belly, to yoga, to boogie on down.
She’s always found living alone such a bore;
A harvest of husbands – she’s on number four.
She drives a Miata with careless aplomb,
The very ideal of a hot soccer mom.

But me, I was thinking of how to invent
A Booker prize novel to cover my rent,
Or lysergic rhapsodies for the guitar
Or finally learning to drive in a car.
The hours spurted onward in skips and in bounds,
Years twirling away down a hole in the ground;
How gently appalling my ultimate fate,
To grow wispy white whiskers, and sit on a gate.

She spins on the dance floor like wind on the wing,
To Western and Latin and Manhattan Swing;
Her elegant limbs grace the South Jersey beaches,
And people go mad for her raspberry quiches.
Her daughter (my niece) with her blue eyes so dear
Sets the upper crust of Baltimore on its ear,
While her brother my nephew is cutting a swath, (um)
Through the au courant circles of fashionable Gotham.
That’s my sister, triumphing wherever she goes,
And she never had anything done to her nose.

But me, I was dreaming up world-shifting rubrics,
Or imagining screenplays to shame all the Kubricks;
My ****** could make you explode in your jammies,
And my song lyrics won theoretical Grammys.
Of invisible kingdoms I was the past master,
I walked with Elijah, I lunched Zoroaster.
Yet somehow I find myself at this late date
With my brain in the clouds, and my *** on a gate.

Amaju;
The pride and beauty of all days
In your innocent and unadulterated eyes
I have seen the age and immortality of the sun and the moon.

The incomparable blast of your unabated smile
Acquaints my heart with an acquiescing admiration
Indeed your beauty is priceless and devoid of sentiment.