"ateneo" poems
We were young and Ateneo was the only place
we ever wanted to go to.
Even though most of our time were spent in class,
and most of our classes were spent in that huge classroom
called Ateneo Avenue,
and most of our theories were declared on that enormous rostrom
called Four Pillars.
We were young and Ateneo was the only place
we ever wanted to go to.
We are old and Ateneo is the only place
we ever want to go to.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:07 PM UTC
AT NIGHT, THIS PLACE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
A STRANGE COMFORT FOR THE PENSIVE,
FOLLY FOR THE HAUNTED.
YOUR NAME
IS ETCHED AT THE BACK
OF MY HEAD,
HIDDEN, IN A GRID,
WHERE MIERZWIAK WOULDN’T
FIND YOU.
AT NIGHT, ATENEO AVENUE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
I REMEMBER:
"THIS IS WHERE I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME."
I FLICK MY CIGARETTE AND MAKE UP
A GOODBYE,
LIKE JOEL TO CLEMENTINE,
AND HEAD BACK
TO WHERE
THESE YELLOW LIGHTS
CAN’T FIND ME.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC