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solEmn oaSis Oct 23
ang kaakit-akit
**** bating-
ang siyang wagas
na nagdala ng madamdaming
mga katanungan
mula sa iyong puso patungo
sa iyong kasintahan,
gamit ang ibabaw ng
mga matikas na alon...
walang pasubali na ipinahayag mo
ang iyong pangmatagalang
paglalarawan sa marami,
bagaman ang mundo
ng magkabilang dako
ay pansamatalang natutulog na
... ang kagandahan niyon
ay mananatiling gising pa rin.
Dahil siya ang natatangi **** daigdig
at ikaw nga ang makulay niyang pag-ibig!
At mula sa iyong napakalambing na pagsisimula
Mayroong "kayo" na magsasalo sa magdamag
habang heto si Ako...mananatili ring tapat
at gaya niya na di nakakalimot sa akin!
Kaya naman sa iyo aking mahal,
Malayo ka man sa akin ngayon,
lagi pa rin namang merong "tayo"
Maulap man ang papawirin
Ating babagtasin
ang araw at sinag nito
hanggang sa isang kabilogan
na lang ng buwan
ang aking pananabikan at bibilangin ko!
Sa pagsapit niyon
matamis na katahimikan
ang siya nating mabubuo!
tanging sa ating pagniniig
nang may buong kasabikan
ang mga himig na maririnig!
mula sa simula hanggang
sa ang wakas ay magsilbing hudyat
na sa langit nating inaasam
ay magigisnan ang malakidlat
na tilamsik ng ating pagsusuyuan
Di-kapara ng naunang magsing-irog
mula sa bukana ng talon ay nahulog
at kapwa bumitaw sa ere sa gitna ng kulog
pero tayo...Hindi tayo sa patibong matutulog!
patutunayan nating Hindi tayo
ang tipong mauuwi sa TaLiwaS
dahil sa katunayan nga mahal ko
sa pamagat pa lang binungad ko na ang SiLaw aT
labo na nananahan sa pagitan ng tukso
at ng bahay na inaakala nilang
panghabang-buhay na tahanan!
Transferring my feelings
of longingness
from formal norm
into a tagalog love-poetry
Karli Z Oct 8
Attached as if our skin
is patched together
by the red strings of fate
that signify forever.
reyftamayo Aug 3
isa pa, itagay mo pa
tatlong ikot na lang ubos na.
hindi malamig,
ubod ng lamig.
iisa lang pala ang tama.
ibigay ang pulutan
doon sa malakas kumain.
pagkatapos nito, isusuka rin.
reyftamayo Jul 26
Ang ilaw sa tabi ko
Sa gilid sa harap paikot
Naghalo sa kisameng kasama
Ang antok-hilo kong ulirat
Bingi na ako sa tunog
Ng patagilid-pakalat na musika
Habang pinapaypayan ako
Ng higanteng bentilador
Naisip ko
Mas mainam siguro
Nasa bahay lang ako
within the blurred lines
of our wild nights
we found a clarity
connections we find in others that can't be defied
Carlo C Gomez Jun 10
I. The Boy With The Cuckoo Clock Heart

Born with a frozen heart,
abandoned in

One kind physician
laid her hands upon him,
in a bit of medicinal salvation,
by placing a cuckoo clock
inside his chest.

Now an orphan,
among peculiar friends:
tear-filled flasks,
eggs containing memories,
and a man with a musical spine.

There's but one catch
for this boy:
his heart is fragile,
he must never, ever
fall in love.

Existence is undoubted.
But without this one emotion,
can he really live?

Love is a bitter token.

II. The Girl With Glass Feet

"It was a humid night,
later to become a hated night."

Upon an island sound,
feet first, she is slowing turning
into glass.

By sheer happenstance,
she meets a shy boy
who lives there
with an extreme fear
of being touched.

As she slowly disappears,
she untethers herself
from self-pity,
by teaching the boy the value
of interaction.

Inchmeal, he begins to reach out
and feels everything
she has lost to the night.

Love is a bitter token.

III. The Snow Child

"November was here."

A married couple,
in Alaskan remote,
suffering from one great sadness:
no child of their own
and unable to talk of it.

He's buried by
the weight of the outer ice,
she's crumbling
from inner despair.

And so on a rare
friendly day trek,
they built a child out of snow,
outfitted with mittens and scarf.

A day later it is gone,
remembered only in absentia,
yet there appears
a beautifully arrayed
creature of winter,
a little, lissome girl in the woods,
hunting with the red fox.

In wishing to understand
these encounters,
the couple come to love the child
as their very own daughter.

Yet will she ever accept them
as they do her?

Or see them
merely as snowdrops?

Figurines frosted over by
the harsh landscape
they each wander?

Love is a bitter token.
BLT's continued challenge - to write a poem using the Merriam-Webster word of the day, lissome. It's in there somewhere.
It's been 47 days now and I really don't know when  all this is going to stop so I could finally gain access to you.
The sweat that dripped down my body each time I honoured your invitation.
At first the sweats were irritating, I would whine about it or hurry home to wash it off but with time I got used to it and appreciated it.
Most times you leave me in a lot of body ache that takes days to heal....
47 days, that's all I needed to truly understand how important you are to my career, most likely my world.
I grew up dreaming and making up stories in my head about being an actor but not really you.
I always get angry each time I had to choose you over sleep or fun time with my friends.....
Little did I know you meant more than the fame or awards being an actor would give to me......

47 days and still counting with no idea when I would stop cause even when this is over, I'm not sure the rules that would be enforced to contain this virus, would favor us.
But the few times I spent with devoting certain hours of my day to you was and would most likely be one of memories i can never forget.
The bonding, the jokes, insults, anger, joy and fun you always give the people that comes together under you.
I'm really looking forward to having you back to either dance to drum beats or music and move from one stage direction to another, giving life to dead scripts.
             Much love from your biggest fan
        Pearlspoems 😘
It only takes a moment to realize how beautiful things you take for granted is
Carlo C Gomez Mar 25
Her body pulls away, outlying

Ask the mountains
Question the clouds

What is rotation's logic?
Have we spun fallaciously all along?

Communicating with inexact words?
Kissing off-target?
*******, an imprecise expression?

She settles now on unapproachable horizon

Learn from the shore
Understand the sea

Neither dare, nor desire, to claim
For the indignity or cumber of a difficult collide

Start anew by holding hands
Discover the "we" in you and her

Ever so gently, allow her to orbit
The offered affection
On her own terms

The heart will again probe for
A returning circuit to attachment

Her body will move closer
Glenn Currier Feb 27
the shifting layers of gravel and soil,
the thin crust of busyness
and distractions
are the hours of merging and melting
from our friction and romance,
in other words
the love and trust
that is our bedrock.
Play me a sad song?
But what of this joyous day
Summer unfurls before us
And warm sunshine tans my skin

Sure we toil in trenches
Dug as defensive lines
Against a swarm
So complete in its hostility

But brothers, hear the sounds of nature
Echoing around us
Wrapping us in soft cacoons
Of sweet distraction

So do not sing a sad song
Don't dampen my ephemeral mood
Let me have this moment of reprieve
As I dig trenches
On a future battlefield
This poem was written in Afghanistan in 2010.  It is the only positive piece I have written from the portion of my life.  And those of you who've read my other poems about war probably know that very well.  It was just a strange day as summer began and we were in our short sleeve shirts building defensive barriers, surrounded by towering mountains.  It was such a beautiful sight.  It made me think about working in the yard with my dad and the feeling of bonding and accomplishment at a day's toil.
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