#remnants
Now that we are on in years,
celebrations change and dwindle
to little remnants of tradition.
We are two stragglers
from life’s journey,
Left behind by the young,
No longer nurturing him,
yet tied to his well-being
even as we wait for his call.
I celebrate Yule not in our home,
but by imaging his joy beside a tree,
his exchange of gifts with her.
And I recall the first Christmas
with my husband, falling asleep together
under a mammoth tree filled with light.
We made ornaments for fun
and poverty didn’t matter.
I wrote a poem for him,
decorated with scenes of our life.
And now, we are too weary
to celebrate like that.
It is as if we pore through a box,
a ragged thing, dragged through time,
looking for souvenirs of joy
and memories of the life we had
when he was here.
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 11:01 AM UTC
The remnants from every last past bunch
Of confrontation and confusion with such and such
Pile up till it becomes too much
I panic, then in a frantic desperation motion I reach out to clutch
At a drifting safety line I can no longer touch
In a rush I removed both legs to manufacturer a crutch
Sometimes it's hard to translate a hunch
©2024
Jun 5, 2024
Jun 5, 2024 at 6:04 PM UTC
Enjoy little things in life
While you can
Before ended by Death's knife
Interrupting plan
I used to hide all day
Escaping problems that pursued
Leaving behind obstacles in my way
I am the one surroundings exclude
There is no shortcut to happiness
On this earth tread upon
We pass on a great big mess
To bury after you're gone
I will claw through tunnels
Until I find rightful place
Help you with your struggles
Cradled in my embrace
Until my wick rekindles yours
Reanimates you
Makes heart pound
Will crawl through soil and explore
Dig you out from the ground
The tomb intended for me instead
Buried you to save my soul
To end madness in my head
Dying
Thoughts swallowing whole
I walk this road of ruptured dreams
Softness fading from fingertips
Savoring warm remnants of bright sunbeams
Light out of my grasp slowly slips
May 17, 2024
May 17, 2024 at 12:06 PM UTC
We are repeating yet fleeting,
estranged remnants,
together alone.
It was the strangest feeling.
To be married.
To be chosen.
To share life.
The one place
you are supposed to matter most
only to become a ghost.
To be forgotten.
To disappear
into the wallpaper and tapestry,
not in a woven way
but in a painted to look like it way.
And if you stay long enough,
no longer reflected in their eyes,
you will forget yourself too.
The dissolution of my geography.
My fault lines slowly became riddled with fissures
until one day the area between my *******
collapsed in to a sink hole.
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 5:32 PM UTC
paano ko nga ba kinolekta
ang mga ala-ala?
sa piraso ng bato?
sa piraso ng kahoy o halaman?
siguro sa simoy ng hangin
at lasa ng pagkain?
hindi naman kaya
sa kalampag ng mga musika?
wala nga sigurong batayan
wala ring katapusan ang pagkolekta
ng mga ala-ala
nakagawian ko na itong gawin
noon pa
kaya kahit na ubos na
ang mga bato kahoy at halaman
kahit na said na ang bakas
sa simoy ng hangin
at lahat ng pagkain
manahimik man ang indayog ng musika
hangga't hindi pa nauubos
ang mga naipong lakas
na magdadala ng mga lipas na gunita
ng galit at takot
ng lungkot at tuwa
makababalik pa rin ako
saan man magpunta
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 1:29 AM UTC
There is no real end to anything...
Every thing remains in bits and pieces...
Whether it be the remnants of fallen leaves or the ancient ruins of a castle...
The charcoal still emits a hint of amber... Even when the fire has died down...
The heart still beats the tune of the faint remembrance of a loved one...
Some things always remain in small bites thus...
Maybe in the hope of wanting to be awakened...once again!
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 8:13 AM UTC
I trace my hand across
the expanse of my skin;
trying to feel any
remnants of you.
My fingers automatically
expand,
retract,
intertwine,
on its own accord
to the ghosts of you.
Can you feel me?
I ache.
I beg.
I bargain.
I persist.
I breathe.
I hope, still.
Jun 22, 2020
Jun 22, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
my heart was hammered a couple times,
of a few lovers who knew bittersweet crimes,
even with these remnants, I want to bet on uncertainty
I want to learn how to love again - fearlessly even in adversity.
IA
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 6:37 AM UTC
Villain. You have stolen my grace.
When I poise myself to smile and simper, your bitter shadow fills my mouth and makes me shudder.
When I ascend the steps to my royal quarters, I trip on the memory of your presence by my side.
When I lay in bed, artfully sprawled across the velvet sheet, your forceful weight crushes my limbs and my lungs.
When my eyelids flutter shut, intent on transporting me to dream-land, all I see is your divine, ethereal face.
When I fall in love, I am eager to forget and begin anew with my sweet knight in disguise, but your crestfallen expression slows my pace.
I may be free of you and your enchantment, your enthralling spell, but by the gods, Villain - I couldn't protect it all, and so you have stolen my grace.
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 8:26 PM UTC
The remnants of memories
can be so addictive
like 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯
𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴,
and you,
alone in dark place
𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴
𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦,
longing to walk
by the shore,
to feel
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦
𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦,
to listen
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥
𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴
until the dawning light
appears before your eyes,
to find an escape
for you are caught
𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦
𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺.
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 3:17 AM UTC
I suspect,
that my essence
was never meant
for such love.
all along,
all alone.
and thus I remain.
Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
The remnants of the past
Are like pieces of broken glass
You try to avoid
But step on, once in awhile
Then the memories come
They come,
when you‘re singing a happy song in the shower
And it suddenly changes to a sad tune
They come,
when you’re walking alone at night
And you just suddenly slow in pace
They come,
when you’re out with friends,
And you suddenly turn quiet
They come,
when you least expect it, when you’re smiling with no care in the world
You don’t choose when they come
but they do
and you let them flow
until there’s little to none of them
that remains inside of you
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 5:01 AM UTC
Absence is a strange occurrence,
a shapeshifter manifesting
in the most trivial things.
A presence where there is none.
Something never entirely gone.
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
Stop writing of people who don’t exist.
Stop reminiscing and reliving time.
Stop keeping them alive in parts of your soul.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 12:51 AM UTC
The remnants of your influence
Echo down the halls of my conscience
Long after I slipped away into the night
Here you are still
Whispering that I am not good enough
I cannot make it on my own
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
There is some kind of soft magic
in the way your hands glide
across my skin, half knowing,
and half discovering,
deciphering,
decoding all that I am.
The way you go straight to the heart
of the matter, yet in doing so,
you're perpetually awed both by
your new findings and by the
remnants of stardust you left
behind, last time.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Say it;
God doesn’t make mistakes
Talk to me in the language of atoms
tell me that divided is a myth
yet life goes on riven
Tell me that we’ll still roam the same sky
even if we separately collide
even if we don’t make a sound
That our destruction is beautiful
even when shatters is all there is
that remnants are proof of existence
Say we existed, existed but never lived
tell me how we ended the moment we started
tell me that time is flawless
But lie to me about relativity
I swear that’s how I stop rearranging the stars
to alter our destiny.
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
how can i forget your love?
when my skin remembers your hug
as if it was burned by your own smell
how can i unlove you?
when in my ears your voice echoes
as if it was recorded long time ago
how can i erase your name?
when it was carve in my smooth-papered notes with my blood,
with a promise that you will remain.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 5:33 PM UTC
Everything feels fake
While I try to reintegrate
I'm so expanded and 3D is so contracted
I'm not even turned on, I'm not even attracted
The way people live, the way people see
3D thinking is a waste of my energy
I'm unenthused by the boredom of this plane
Everyone wants to be in control, everyone wants to stake claim
Stick with profound, stay away from profane
Chill like a tree, step away from the propane
Don't set fire to yourself and your path
Give people room to breathe, no one cares about your wrath
People are so preoccupied with looking like they're cool
But in reality they're nothing but a tool
Now don't get it confused
With something you can use
It's someone that will abuse
They don't care about your views
They only care for what they choose
Which is something where they win and you lose
What is this place with billions of minds
With trillions of thoughts that will be our demise
Self loathing, hatred spewing from one mouth to the next
There's rarely anything spiritual about modern day ***
There's no making love, just hurry up and ***
There's no facing problems, just drink beer and ***
How did I get here, is this really what I have to see
I know what my purpose is, to show people how to be
Not like a preacher, just hand them the key
I know the truth and I live by example
Come see me and I'll give you a sample
Some fall in love when they get a taste
The rest run away in all their haste
Thinking that they're better and smarter and cool
But running from truth just makes them a fool
There's a place and time for what I have to say
But it's not for everyone and it's not everyday
People who hear me are the ones who are supposed to receive
They have a greater purpose if they're able to believe
Knowing there's so much more than what we can see
Go beyond the physical, peak into 5D
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
There is a quilt on the bed in Shea's room,
Pink, red, blue, green, and violet,
Lace and stripes and polka dots,
White pillowcases with crisp corners.
There are books on the shelves, different genres,
Stuffed in sideways and upways and frontways,
old fantasy, thrillers, adventure,
Smudged ink in their yellowed margins.
There are papers on the desk by the wall,
Poems and Post-its and signatures,
Cardstock cut into star-shapes
Journal entries and unfinished sentences.
The closet is empty in Shea's room
Cobwebs and dead ladybugs lie still
A lamp has a cord around its middle
No breeze stirs the air; the curtains are closed.
There should be music in Shea's room.
There are songbooks, yes, but no hum of the heater
No branch scrapes the window outside
When a storm comes, the raindrops fall without rhythm
No longer are things made in Shea's room.
The colors are faded in Shea's room.
They say that there's something in Shea's room
Memories and fragments and pleasant dreams
They say stories came alive and still linger
Seeping through the cracks of the wooden floorboards
Horses graze in green pastures in Shea's room.
But I know what's really in Shea's room.
There's a year's worth of dust coating Shea's room
Not a thing has been touched for months
There's no Shea to be seen in Shea's room
Since she headed for the hills and never came back
There's no life and no soul in Shea's room
Shea's room is an abalone shell
The inner shine scrubbed away by disuse
Only shadows survive in Shea's room.
There is nothing alive in Shea's room.
Just an empty closet
And books
And Post-Its
And ladybugs
And remnants
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
I was in the edge of losing my mind;
Darkness tried to swallow me wherever I hide;
I lost everything including myself.
But there was one thing that remained;
The memories.
and though they were blurred, and weren't the same;
It was more than enough to keep me sane.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
With these vacuous sentiments
I sweep the remnants of myself
(rust and stardust)
you meticulously unravelled
and scattered in crevices of this 33sqm room.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:17 AM UTC