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Louise Jun 4
My most beloved,
I've always known, it makes perfect sense.
Why they all want to take you,
away from my arms and from the lull of rest.
Why they all want a piece of you,
it's because you are simply, utterly the best.
My dearest,
it's all because you are heaven-sent.
Because of you, I am brave and I can win.
Your waves are weaved by God himself.
Because of you, I can surf, sink and swim.
But my love,
for you, there is no war I wouldn't fight.
There is no battle that I wouldn't triumph.
No forefronts I wouldn't lead.
No enemy I wouldn't bury dead.
My most beloved sea, my dearest,
๐˜”๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ ๐˜ข ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ข ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฌ๐˜ข
For your laughters, waves and sunset,
๐˜-๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ช๐˜บ๐˜ข๐˜จ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฐ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜จ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ข ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฏ.
Written from the POV of humanized San Juan, La Union, addressed to the West Philippine Sea โค๏ธ

Ilocano translations:
1.) Matayak a makilablaban para kenka
Mamamatay akong ipinaglalaban ka
(I would die fighting for you)

2.) I-alay ko biyag ko inggana pannakalpasan.
Ibibigay ko ang buhay ko hanggang katapusan
(I will give my life until the end)
Louise May 24
Be careful when eating its flesh.
For it is the color of the sunrise,
but its stains leaves tinges of sunburn.
Be careful in savoring its juices,
for the flavor might be sweet
but the price to pay is steep.
Its tree is mighty, yet not for climbing.
The fruit dreamy, yet will sting like a bee.
I will forget your name, like a clichรฉ novela.
I will forget your face, like another man.
As the season of mangoes comes to a close,
I will soon bury the skin and all yellows.
As I welcome the taste of the storms,
be devoured by the rains and pours,
I will heal like a witch with smoke and fire,
I will forget you like night forgets the light.
In response to "Sweet Mango Summer",
the last of this series. ๐Ÿฅญโ˜€๏ธ
Glen Castillo May 16
They say that when you find true love, you have also found your heaven here on earth. That's why I believe that heaven will also guide you towards me. But I'm getting impatient, waiting and regretting every passing moment, not being able to hold your hands in times when you need someone by your side. Not being able to comfort you when you're feeling down. I know that, like me, sometimes you feel like the world has let you go too. So forgive me if, in those moments when you feel that way, I'm not there to support you. If true love and heaven have a deep connection to each other, I strongly believe that we are also destined to be like them.

I once asked, In which corner of heaven are you? Are you close to the sun? Or maybe you're just beside the moon, watching over me every time darkness falls. That's why wherever I go, you always seem to follow. But you might also be with the stars, where many desire to possess you. Fortunately, when the time comes, you will be mine. So while you're not here yet, I will stand with the righteous soldiers of our nation. I will fight when needed and defend what is just. So that when you arrive, we can freely enjoy a peaceful life together. So while you're not here yet, I wholeheartedly pray to our creator. May goodness reign in my heart as a person and, above all, as his child, so that when we finally meet, I will also be a good partner to you.

Even before we cross paths, I want you to know that you are always in my prayers. And I will cherish your love forever, which is why I long to live repeatedly. I want to shout to the world that I love you deeply, but I will patiently wait for you. And when our hearts finally meet, I will whisper to you that you are my world. I will just wait, while you're not here yet."

ยฉ 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved
Louise May 14
I have always likened my summers to those summers of my childhood vacations.
And every passing year, I feel like it's slipping further away from me on and on.
I have always imagined another summer full of sun, sand and fun.
Like that of my childhood days
that have been long gone.
I say to the sun; "please, even just another one."
But then I've lost count of how many summers have passed,
and all it did was pass me by.
I've lost track of how much time and how much of my dreams has been gone,
and how they just all fly.
I pray to the sea; "please, don't kiss me goodbye."
I kept waiting and chasing for summer,
but then maybe summer also thought
I am to be chased away.
I won't hold it against the rains
that pours in the middle of May,
I just hold my palms together and pray.
I sing to the sands; "please, I don't mind that you are gray!"

Sometimes, I crave the mango ice candies that our rich neighbor used to make and sell.
The sounds of my old coin bank whenever I would shake it, like a captivating church bell.
Every summer, they go to Guimaras and back to Manila to sell mangoes from their farmland.
Mangoes that I remember were bigger than my head, but as smooth as my hand.
But their matriarch passed when I was in fifth grade and stopped making them since.
Looking back, I feel like that's also when my childhood have died, felt her last kiss.
Now sometimes, I think about how I would never feel the delight of my childhood summers ever again.
Like how I would never taste the sweet mango ice candy that my childhood neighbor used to make in May.
Now sometimes, I wallow in fear over how I'll never get to feel the summer that my soul is so craving anymore.
Like how I would chase summer, only to be followed by the rain and thunders, by the threat of a low tide shore.
God I hope I'm wrong.
I really hope I'm wrong.
So I say, pray and sing,
to the sands, sun and sea;
"May you bring my childhood,
my old summers back to me!"
Childhood in the Philippines are made of mangoes, sun, summer, sand, ice candies... maybe these are just the medicines that we need again, as adults braving the crazy world away.
Louise May 7
If God wills me to go to Guimaras,
and bless me to enjoy the sweetest mangoes
right in the island's finest of beaches,
never again shall I complain of my woes,
I shall never again worry about diseases!

If God allows me to go to Guimaras,
right this very summer and in this high heat,
just in time for the infamous mango festival,
you will never hear me speak about cheats,
I will never again cry about anything trivial!

If God wishes for me to go to Guimaras,
eat my heart out from cheeks to flesh,
burn my skin better from scalp to sole,
never again will I be old, I'll be forever fresh,
never again shall I wilt, my soul will soar!
I hope I can make it to the mango island, this sweet mango summer!
Louise May 1
Your skin, the color of the early morning sunlight.
Your taste, sweet and sublime.
As I bite into your flesh, I forget everything
just like how the light forgets the night.
Your tree is groovy, however mighty.
Your fruit, the dream of every honey bee.
As I savour every drop of your juice, I forget my name,
like we're in some clichรฉ first love story.
Your seed, caller of more mangoes this season.
Your cheek, red, orange, sometimes yellow.
As I devour your entirety, I forget the promise of storms,
only remembering your sweetness from now on.
Summer is a sweet mango.
Louise Apr 30
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of exceptional beauty...
No matter how rare or how valuable,
a pearl waits indeed.
A pearl waits indeed,
for the bravest of divers...
No matter how long or how far,
to swim deep for her historical harvest.
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of celebrated rarity...
No matter how treacherous the ocean,
a pearl stays still and sits pretty.
A pearl waits indeed,
in the embrace of the sea...
No matter how tumultuous the waves get,
a pearl waits indeed...
A pearl waits...
to be worn as a necklace
or earrings by a poet.
A poet who also refers to herself as a pearl.
A poet so foolishly comparing herself.
But then again, she's not so wrong.
Asking questions to the sky before bed.
Will you pick me up and take me away
from this seabed of moss and loss?
Will you harvest me from the vast ocean
and its mass of loneliness?
A pearl waits...
to be held, touch and kissed by the fingers
of a brave diver, of a worthy surfer...
Or simply by a simple island boy,
whose heart is that of a lion's
and whose hands are able...
Your Philippine pearl,
Louise Apr 8
They are the drops of rain in an island
as you ride through a storm on a motorbike.
The coconuts falling down your head
on a quiet beach.
They are the songs and poems
addressed to or meant to attack politicians.
They are slippery rocks on a river
and the current of a whirlpool
for the heavy steps
of the enemies.
And they are the soft cashmere carpet
and the fine, powdery sands
for the careful steps
of my lovers.
Written from the point of view of Panay Island;

An adaptation of "My Poems Are Not Gentle" by Roger Felix Salditos/Mayamor
Louise Mar 20
I know you've heard things about me...
This and that, here and there...
And I also know you're a little scared,
could be of me, or of my beauty maybe...
This and this and this
Yet I know that as scared as you are,
you're also curious about my mysteries...
That and that and that
But if you take a chance on me,
if you step into my shores and feel my breeze,
you'll find that I'm just a beautiful island,
I could even be the best you'll ever see,
nothing more and nothing grand...
yet I could be the paradise you've never been
and I could have everything you'll ever need.
I could leave you exhilarated
with my magic, sunsets and seabed...
And you would leave me sparkling brand new,
like my oceans have never been this clear and blue.
This and that,
here and there,
I want you here now
and I want you near.
A love letter from Siquijor the island herself, to you dear reader... ๐Ÿโœจ๏ธ๐Ÿ”ฅ

In this poem, I've personified Siquijor as if the island wrote this very poem. Inspired by the age-old scary tales and "rumors" surrounding Siquijor Island, this poem encourages readers to come visit the island despite all of these rumors and stereotypes, calling to you and urging you to come closer, like a siren's song...
Louise Mar 8
๐˜—๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜บ (๐˜ฏ); ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฐ๐˜จ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜บ;
๐˜ด๐˜บ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜บ๐˜ฎ๐˜ด: ๐˜ด๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ต, ๐˜จ๐˜ฐ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ,
๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ด ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ

I know who I am
Yet I don't mind being contained inside a stereotype
I'd even laugh with them or crack a harder joke,
if that means with you, I'll get to spend more time.
I know that in surprise of my truth, they will all choke.

I know myself
I've sworn with blood I won't throw my heart so far
like a boomerang that carelessly takes flight,
but I don't mind the comfort of being inside your car
even more so being found with you there late at night.

I know what I want
I chase my dreams daily, men only every two years
And I don't mind the name-calling and naysays
Because what I want can't be bought with tears
and all they'll ever know about me is my name anyway.

I know what I'll get
But if it's you, I'll take what I can and hope I won't need
Even if it feels like looking into those eyes of yours is a crime
Because life before you have been stereotypical indeed
So I don't mind, no I don'tใ…กin hundreds of jails I'd merrily do time.

I know what you'll get
And if it's not me, there are always the girls
waiting for you back home
or the ones who anticipates you
wherever you may cross, dock or land
Because I have a feeling life after you
would feel like I've always been alone
But would you mind? If I ask you
to hold me longer and take my hand?

Do we know where we'll get?
If it's not with you and me,
there are thousand other pretty faces and luscious lips...
But can they ever fill the void I've left
and will I never stop thinking about what they lack?
Because I have a feeling there's more to this,
I've never missed anyone's hand on my hips...
But would you mind? If I ask you
to give me another night, will you ever come back?
In celebration of International Women's Day 2024 and of Filipinas, and the age-old stereotypes about us. ๐ŸŒธ
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