"anon" poems
You wanted only rain today
And clouds from far anon.
I watched their fingers smudge the sky
And cast away the sun
I brought upon the downpour
And trembled as it fell.
Chilling every molecule
And drenching every cell.
I could not wish this rain to cease;
It was necessity
To end the all-consuming flame
That blazed through you and me
Still I felt the damage
Of burns beneath the skin
The outside seemed undamaged
Though truth lie deep within.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 10:16 PM UTC
TO PUT the art and talent of Mindanaoan fashion design into the spotlight, Kagay’anon fashion designers put their hands together to organize the 5th Mindanao Fashion Summit at the Limketkai Center Rotunda from August 4 to 6, every 4 p.m.
“Being a core event of the Higalaay festival, the opening salvo, the Mindanao Fashion Summit can really highlight fashion designers here in Cagayan de Oro and also in different points of Mindanao to let everyone see what they can do in the world of fashion design especially now that there are only so few opportunities for these designers to show off their works to the public. This is why we have the Mindanao fashion Summit because Kagay-anon designers believe that even if they join national fashion shows like the Philippine Fashion week, most of them still aren't getting the right encouragement as a fashion designer.” said Robbie Pamisa, the overall organizer of the event.
The Fashion Summit is a three-day event composed of seven sub-categories such as the Mindanaoan collection, the Menswear collection, and the Ororama orange collection for the first day, the Guest Designers’ collection, the Fashion Institute of the Philippines collection and the Loop Lifestyle Fashion Show for the second day, and the Holiday Grand collection for the third day which will serve as the culmination of the fashion event.
Mindanaoan Fashion designers from Cagayan de Oro as well as Davao, Butuan, Iligan, and Bukidnon have come to showcase their talents. Some of the fashion geniuses of the event include Alma Mae Roa, Angela Soriano, Ann Semblante, Benjie Manuel, Boogie Musni Rivera, Gil Macaibay III, John Mark Magellan’s, Joshua Guibone, Juniel Doring, Kiko Domo, Mark Christopher Yaranon, and Mavy Cooper de Leon.
One of the highlights of the event is the Oro Fashion Designers’ Guild and the Designers Assembly featuring a collection of clothes using Mindanao material such as the Mindanao silk. Sponsors such as Ororama and The Loop Towers will also be showcasing their products in the fashion event.
“Even student fashion designers from the Fashion Institute of the Philippines have been encouraged to participate so that they will be able to experience how a fashion show works. This is also a way for us to fulfill our mission to be another avenue for fashion designers to show what they have,” Paisa said.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
[Cebuano]
Ikaw ang bahandi
dugay ko nang gihandum
Ikaw ang bituon
Sa ngit ngit kong baybayon
Ikaw lang akong
akong higugmaon
Ikaw lang ako
Ako matinud-anon
Ikaw akong hangin
Ikaw akong ulan
Ikaw akong langit
ug ang akong kalibutan
Ikaw lang akong higugmaon
Ikaw lang ako
Ako matinud-anon
Ikaw akong gahapon
Ikaw akong karon
Ikaw akong kanunay
Pulong ko tinud-anay
Kasing-kasing paminawa
dinuyugan ning gitara
wa ka nag inusara
kanimu nahigugma.
Ikaw
Ikaw ang katam-is
Kalipay na walay sama
Ikaw ba nasayod?
sa likod ning pahiyum
Ikaw lang akong
Akong higugmaon
Ikaw lang ako
Ako matinud anon
Ikaw akong gahapon
Ikaw akong karon
Ikaw akong kanunay
Pulong ko tinud anay
Kasing-kasing paminawa
dinuyugan ning gitara
wa ka nag inusara
kanimu nahigugma.
Tagohala na gibati sa akong kinabuhi
Ikaw lang ang bulawan na
gitipigan sa akong dughan
Mahanaw man ang adlaw
Magsubo man ang buwan
Dili ka gyud talikdan
Ug di gyud pasipad an.
Ikaw......
[English]
You are my treasure
I've ever wished for
You are the star
of my dark coasts
You are who I will
I will love
You are who I am
I am truthful.
You are my wind
You are my rain
You are my heaven
and my only world
You are who I will
I will love
You are who I am
I am truthful.
You are my yesterday
You are my now
You are my always
My words are ever true
Listen to the heart
Accompanied by this guitar
You are not alone
I am in love with you.
You
You are the sweetness
A one-of-a-kind euphoria
Do you even know?
Behind this smile
You are who I will
I will love
You are who I am
I am truthful.
You are my yesterday
You are my now
You are my always
My words are ever true
Listen to this heart
Accompanied by this guitar
You are not alone
I am in love with you.
The mystery I feel in my
life
You're the only gem
I hold dear in my chest
The sun may even die
Even the moon would cry
I'd never turn my back to you
And I would never hurt you.
You......
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
god gloats upon Her stunning flesh. Upon
the rechings of Her green body among
unseen things, things obscene (Whose fingers young
the caving ages curiously con)
—but the lunge of Her hunger softly flung
over the gasping shores
leaves his smile wan,
and his blood stopped hears in the frail anon
the shovings and the lovings of Her tongue.
god Is The Sea. All terrors of his being
quake before this its hideous Work most old
Whose battening gesture prophecies a freeing
of ghostly chaos
in this dangerous night
through moaned space god worships God—
(behold!
where chaste stars writhe captured in brightening fright)
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Driven and persistent
When a girl, I was undaunted
On acting I was insistent
By the stage I was haunted
A mere ingénue
At the odds I did laugh
Until the day that I withdrew
Now that ingenue lay neath an epitaph
To myself I was untrue
Now turn back to dreams
I must pursue
Lo, I am rebuilding
Her broken spirit within
Already she is healing
Anon let the journey begin again
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
Mindanao rain
drain a mind:
rain, mind an a, o (or lack of
the voweled demarcation)
a man rid
or
a dim man in
a man;
Danao
sings something
blood writes heavily
we have many cicatrices
mind
the
now
arid mind
man rid of
a, o — vowels to
fruition a total emphasis
and man
in a drain, no strong aid
in rain — in the
eyes of
god is the
true
anon man
in the rain
amid rain-moan
or nomad in rain.
a **** I On,
you
complete the atrocity.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
~commissioned accidentally by a melody,
a passing glance, a purring perchance,
an idle innocent comment,
to be born as the first poem of this day,
@7:00am
Tue Sep 18 2025,
writ in haste, before
departing over many islands to
another place called "home"~
---~<>~---
*sometimes,
not so secret,
anon, ^
sometimes,
so much more,
than that but a glancing of favoring,
a handshake secreted, is actually felt,
actually secreted,
and rare though via~able,
it passes through a longing traveled voyage,
over wire, under sea's cabling, through space,
hoisted from & by satellite over continental divides
just a hop, skip and jumpstart
over this tiny planet,
and though, but, an amorphous 👍 thumb,
a colored 💙 or collared,
or a pointing 🫵
body part
the like,
bears more than just a passing resemblance
to another*
f o u r l e t t er w o r d
its often lost & found
dear cuz ^^
full of meanings hidden,
or even
anon,
"I'll be there shortly"^
magic!
nml
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 7:33 AM UTC
For what it was tell me anon
Lest my heart turn and run
Away from Verona, Cursed land
That else was dealt a Wounded hand
In gloomy streets do shadows cry
For the Love of my life that did Die
Deep in her Earthen bed
From her breast drew red
By her own lovely manner
So down came the War banner
And so in quiet despair
With a quick, desperate Prayer
I lay down next to her in the tomb
And return to the Mother's womb
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
I am the family face;
Flesh perishes, I live on,
Projecting trait and trace
Through time to times anon,
And leaping from place to place
Over oblivion.
The years-heired feature that can
In curve and voice and eye
Despise the human span
Of durance—that is I;
The eternal thing in man,
That heeds no call to die.
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i.
Arrayed she is
In yellow daisy
Dress.
ii.
Anon we shalt rest
In castle view
solitude.
iii.
I'm costumed
In coal-black
Wear.
iv.
We romance in
Candlelight awe
Midnight pair.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
i.
Today, O' today
I got her letter in the mail;
Filled with pictures of mine
Queen, she sent me
Poems done by me, in her
Calligraphy.
ii.
Today O' today
I got lipstick kisses on
Her notes, the red stood
Out of all she wrote;
As her amour was
So fine.
iii.
Today O' today
Anon mine spirit's soared,
That fashionable vellum
O' I adored. O' Jane Sardua,
O' Jane of Earl. O' rose of Asia;
The Luzon's pearl.
iv.
Today O' today
I smiled again, because mine lover,
And mine best friend. Her ardent sonnet
Displayed her touch, grabbing mine soul,
In heaven's blush, silently tear's came to
a rush; from joy's overtaking.
v.
Today O' today
O'er the blue, I made mine stay.
Consatero, ah veray,
Queen Jane, Queen Jane,
Of Asia's praise;
Today O' today
How I fell in
Love again.
©,Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou)
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:53 PM UTC
When I died last, and, Dear, I die
As often as from thee I go,
Though it be but an hour ago,
And Lovers’ hours be full eternity,
I can remember yet, that I
Something did say, and something did bestow;
Though I be dead, which sent me, I should be
Mine own executor and legacy.
I heard me say, “Tell her anon,
That myself, that is you, not I,
Did **** me,” and when I felt me die,
I bid me send my heart, when I was gone,
But alas could there find none,
When I had ripp’d me, and search’d where hearts should lie;
It kill’d me again, that I who still was true,
In life, in my last will should cozen you.
Yet I found something like a heart,
But colors it, and corners had,
It was not good, it was not bad,
It was intire to none, and few had part.
As good as could be made by art
It seem’d, and therefore for our losses sad,
I meant to send this heart in stead of mine,
But oh, no man could hold it, for ’twas thine.
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The **** is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter
The green field sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plowboy is whooping—anon-anon:
There’s joy in the mountains;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
3.9k
I
Just as my fingers on these keys
Make music, so the self-same sounds
On my spirit make a music, too.
Music is feeling, then, not sound;
And thus it is that what I feel,
Here in this room, desiring you,
Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,
Is music. It is like the strain
Waked in the elders by Susanna;
Of a green evening, clear and warm,
She bathed in her still garden, while
The red-eyed elders, watching, felt
The basses of their beings throb
In witching chords, and their thin blood
Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.
II
In the green water, clear and warm,
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of springs,
And found
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed,
For so much melody.
Upon the bank, she stood
In the cool
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves,
The dew
Of old devotions.
She walked upon the grass,
Still quavering.
The winds were like her maids,
On timid feet,
Fetching her woven scarves,
Yet wavering.
A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned--
A cymbal crashed,
Amid roaring horns.
III
Soon, with a noise like tambourines,
Came her attendant Byzantines.
They wondered why Susanna cried
Against the elders by her side;
And as they whispered, the refrain
Was like a willow swept by rain.
Anon, their lamps' uplifted flame
Revealed Susanna and her shame.
And then, the simpering Byzantines
Fled, with a noise like tambourines.
IV
Beauty is momentary in the mind--
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden's choral.
Susanna's music touched the ***** strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death's ironic scraping.
Now, in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory,
And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
3.5k
Sa panulat ni:JV Lance
I
Ang gugma kong giatay kanimo Inday
Mao ang naghatag kanako ug kaharuhay
Susama sa usa ka bulan ug bituon
Nga naghatag ug kahayag sa kagabhion
Bisan pa’g lisud ka kab-uton
II
Oh Langga kong matahom
Nga murag bulak kung mupahiyom
Hatagan unta ko nimo ug paglaom
Kay ang gugma ko, matinud-anon
Hangtod sa akong kamatayon
III
Bisan puno’g misteryo ang kalibutan
Ug lisod tagnaon ang kapalaran
Dili taka dal-on sa kawanangan
nga walay kapuslanan
O bisan sa lungag nga puno ug kapakyasan
IV
Oh Langga isaad ko, kanimo
Nga ikaw lang ug ako,
ug wala na’y lain pa.
Kay kung ikaw mawala,
wala nako’y ugma.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Once of a bride was I by a belle informed;
Who, on the very night of their honeymoon
Upon sighting her groom's dower, screamed
And would not let him in for his ***** boon,
Until she's taken thru the script the following
Morn by her parson's wife in cool counselling.
Many things in morals and etiquette do
Parents their children ever and anon teach
Except on this single unfolding issue
Will they falter to them plainly preach:
The act of marriage in its detailed image,
Cause it's found nay on their nurturing page.
An African mother will quiver her girl to lecture,
For instance, in the subject under review,
But will leave it to the Omniscient Nature
To instruct her like cry to a curlew.
So the bride's mom will not to her say:
This is how you should roll in the hay.
Neither will a father his son likewise tell
Explicitly of this duty--this too I know--
How to make his led-to-the-altar angel
Fly on cloud nine during their maiden show.
My pa never me of this nuptial scene told,
How in bed my lady I should stylishly hold.
Yet instinct, that great ancient teacher,
The green Adam and ****** Eve taught
On man's debut moment of ecstasy ever,
And did lead him to her piquant spot,
Whilst one another they caressed for affection,
Premiering for all couples conjugal copulation.
And the animals who do not the wisdom
Of man have, even every diminutive creature,
How each by divine smarts in their kingdom--
Like the fish in the sea of their rapture--
Do with themselves mate with none
Giving them tutorials nor showing them ****
To close this up where it had first started:
The *iyawo after the pending deed was done,
As it should betwixt man and wife, delighted
Was and with glowing warmth did thence burn
In the hearth of her *ókò with ultra joy,
Who at the beginning of performance was coy.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
. . .
. . . .
. . . . . . . . .
i stare at a docile ocean
waveless sun accosted
dark and shadow edged
tinned with men's brave
history of misconception i
'Dragonne'.
'Colossuus'.
'Cetaecean'.
- Leviathan ?
As sure as hope setting sail -
Past shoal, past shallow,
So each chase begins.
Lines parsing out,
Expectations coyly
Embroidered,
Entwin-ned.
- Leviathan ?
Pray please this narrative be drawn :
Truth for sake of safe harbour;
Stillness without caution;
Softly ripening dawn;
Jupiter and Venus descendant,
Celestial promise anon ?
- Leviathan .
Violence
the casual violence of life
the worst kind
not casual really but whats violence anyway
few knew why why ask why the few
once the dice flipped get
its a flying a mind a dunzo game
gravity responds we hope hope together sake
to gether
we short the freaks short em' all them freakin freaks freaks
i want you I want yours
i want to take you over
take control take over
29' run kontrol all night day
long time end time
everthing happens forfurfor fit ur
once and done (nature) forfeiture
reason or ur other or ur another or ur a altogether reason
or simple GP drunkworld
reason (nurture)
surprise my ripest faither - less
5 rise 10 run huh
up the down and dumb
dumb ber right left left right thum ber
number one number
numb - ber
one ones
another
come
under
the
(tumb)
.
All Rights Reserved.
James R. Morse, NYC 2013.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
how the years go sailing past! they go by in a blink!
one day i pause and grasp the thought, t'is later than i think.
i bury friends and family and start to realize,
i’m mortal after all, my friend ... and everybody dies.
i take an inventory of life's sorrows and it's joys
rememb'ring most the happy times and all my little "toys"
i think of goals accomplished and my failures just as well.
i think of things i can't unsay and doubts i cannot quell.
mortality, that bane of man, seems but another's fate
and miss my own life's pageantry, with naught but empty plate.
how strange my life should end one day. the final scene must play.
i take each breath for granted and don't cherish every day.
so... "happy birthday to myself!
i’m fifty-two anon !
what happened to my days of youth!? i missed them. now they're gone!
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretense
Our wanderings to guide.
Ah, cruel Three! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Prima flashes forth
Her edict to "begin it"--
In gentler tones Secunda hopes
"There will be nonsense in it"--
While Tertia interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute.
Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast--
And half believe it true.
And ever, as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry,
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by,
"The rest next time"--"It is next time!"
The happy voices cry.
Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:
Thus slowly, one by one,
Its quaint events were hammered out--
And now the tale is done,
And home we steer, a merry crew,
Beneath the setting sun.
Alice! a childish story take,
And with a gentle hand
Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined
In Memory's mystic band,
Like pilgrim's withered wreath of flowers
Plucked in a far-off land.
3.1k
-for Zukiswa Mvunguse~
and for
~ Jul,
who once again,
loved each line best~
having already deduced that:
“the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloratura”^
the titled alliteration teases him into thinking
there, is more to be said,
more to be prayed,
the unplanned lesser lesson is as-of-the-yet unlearned,
and the sunburst of a full fledged
lying-in-bed born from a static spark of kinetic energy,
awaking in an unfamiliar bed
or a too familiar state of mind,
begs for birth and vainglorious death-by-anon/amity
of another poem
I have written poems commissioned,
“write about suicide,” asked a friend,
“take this word and artfully knead it,” once, was once an oft request,
twisty manipulate your scheming resources into
finely assaying a field rock raw,
laboratory mind-mine it into an essay that delve dives
where you fear to treacherous tread,
resultant, an awkward prayer, now, a valued mineral
no poem is truly planned and no prayer ever truly answered,
but as you compose, pushing the last, next word
ever farther to the right,
you self-confess, expecting no absolution, that the poem,
this one as well,
and the next, and the next, and the next
has always been planned since your inception,
always a prayer asked, and in creation conception,
answered even if not directly answered,
for
in the bare minimum asking,
is the answering,
is the planning,
is the poem and the prayer,
is his owned
alliteration
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 8:16 AM UTC
To the melody of "Sheng Sheng Man"
I pine and peak
And questless seek
Groping and moping to linger and languish
Anon to wander and wonder, glare, stare and start
Flesh chill'd
Ghost thrilled
With grim dart
And keen canker of rankling anguish.
Sudden a gleam
Of fair weather felt
But fled as fast -- and the ice-cold season stays.
How hard to have these days
In rest or respite, peace or truce.
Sip upon sip of tasteless wine
Is of slight use
To counter or quell
The fierce lash of the evening blast.
The wild geese -- see --
Fly overhead
Ah, there's the grief
That's chief -- grief beyond bearing,
Wild fowl far faring
In days of old you sped
Bearing my true love's tender thoughts to me.
Lo, how my lawn is rife with golden blooms
Of bunched chrysanthemums --
Weary their heads they bow.
Who cares to pluck them now?
While I the casement keep
Lone, waiting, waiting for night
And, as the shades fall
Upon broad leaves, sparse rain-drops drip.
Ah, such a plight
Of grief -- grief unbearable, unthinkable.
2.7k
The shining stars are sunk in darkness deep,
The weary sun is dead at night,
The moon’s soft smile doth fade anon;
But still my soul is marching on!
The grinding wheel of time hath crushed
Full many a life of moon and star,
And many a brightly smiling morn;
But still my soul is marching on!
The flowers bloomed, then hid in gloom,
The bounty of the trees did cease;
Colossal men have come and gone,
But still my soul is marching on!
The aeons one by one are flying,
My arrows one by one are gone;
Dimly, slowly, life is fading,
But still my soul is marching on!
Darkness, death, and failures vied;
To block my path they fiercely tried.
My fight with jealous Nature’s strong,
But still my soul is marching on!
2.7k
Drinking a Guinness Extra, an empty gesture,
Beset truly by the words of Joyce,
I am sick of the turning from text
To annotation. I wish only to read
A text as it was meant,
With the knowledge not aside
But present already in my blasted skull
It's like the modern appreciation of Shakespeare
—At best an approximation. The words that were
Common, fallen out of usage.
The words then invented, now commonplace.
Thither and hither again I will look
Tracking the details
Researching the clever allusion
Trying not to miss & missing anon
what's right in front of me
D.B. Guy
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC