"bautista" poems
Here's to the writers—
You have the power to paint words
Into beautiful art—
To be able to touch a soul—
To touch one's heart
You can make the stormy sky blue—
Stop the waves from crashing to the shore
You can make all the withered flowers bloom—
Turn winter into summer, a glimpse of gold
You can make someone's dark day colorful—
Gather hope to put in between your words
Make them feel that they are understood—
That they aren't alone in this cruel world
You can mend someone's broken heart—
Put love in between your lines
Let them know that they are enough—
That being hurt is just a part of life
Yes—
We can make a whole new perspective—
We can create a world of our own
And no, we don't speak only for ourselves—
But also for all the lost souls
—Thalia Bautista; Just keep writing
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
As this world runs in cruelty and in greed,
Our eyes see the world perfect-blindly.
Those who have power stay unfair and unjust, indeed -
The stated laws were implemented tightly.
Power over humanity exists in today’s world.
We as powerless have no right to scrutinize, but to concur.
Their pledges remain twirled -
The hurdle stays in abundance with no cure.
It is in us where the grievous suffering is in store;
And we have none to succor them all.
The hunger and incurable malady strike humankind in any form.
It led to increased mortality, decreased economy, but who to call?
Whoever has power, our safety cannot be guaranteed –
They are the ones that makes our life at risk.
They stand as an impediment for our nation not to succeed.
Their fall is soon our victory – this is not in the pace-brisk.
It’s been a year, still no sign of good deed.
Half of the world is asleep –
Some shock for awakening their soul is what they need.
We have lost enough; at least we have ourselves to keep.
The string of our patience reached its limitation.
Rich people hoard too much and now most of us left deprived.
Who’ll lift marginalized Filipinos in our nation? –
Who'll give us fair allocation that is incumbent for us to survive?
Tedious journey might it seem.
Our souls’ little voices are still unheard.
What life this could be without our soaring dream? –
We shall move our mountains even gratification is deferred.
Now, the time is ours to stand as one with clenched hands,
It’s time for us to deplore and abhor their thoughts.
It’s time to listen in our souls' little voices to be heard at once.
And it’s time for us to break the darkness by our flaming oath.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 11:59 PM UTC
8yrs young
lo0000nnnnnnnnggggggggg
thick shiny blue black hair
Air Force Papa wanted a Wash N Wear
He wanted mija* with Dorthy Hamill hair
So I was ordered to March down the street
to Emilias Holy Carport
Emilia La Bautista Mexicana*
She knew no english but she knew Jesus
She'd cut your hair and save your soul
That day i requested un "Dori Hamel" Cut
She smiled and charismaticly said Amen! Te vas a ver muy bonita*
Her holy * tijeras snipped
my hair glided to the cement floor like feathers off angels wings
She made me look right
she made me look left
and when i looked up...
I HAD A MULLET
my tears came down
because of my Dukes of Hazzard crown
and I marched home to Dixie
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 7:32 PM UTC
"What is your greatest fear?" a teacher asked me.
"Darkness," I answered, and almost everyone in the classroom laughed.
"Why are you even afraid of the dark? You're not a kid anymore," one girl said aloud and the teacher told everyone to keep quiet.
I sit as my greatest fear is slowly trying to eat me.
It's not the kind of darkness they think it is. It isn't the darkness that consumes the light that I'm afraid of; it's the one that's in my mind. And they wouldn't know.
I'm afraid whenever that pitch black of nothingness is trying to get in my being. That darkness that makes everything go upside down.
And why should I be afraid?
I'm scared that slowly, by time, I'm getting comfortable with it. I'm afraid that one day, seeing light wouldn't be an option anymore. I'm afraid that one day, darkness will completely consume me.
But it doesn't matter anyway. You already gave your laugh.
---Thalia Bautista; darkness
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
I like to beautify things. When I write my notes, I'd always put colors in them. I'd always trace the letters to make them look like calligraphy.
I like to beautify things. When I see unorganized thoughts on my notebook, I'd weave them together and sprinkle some new ideas and turn them into poetry.
I like to beautify things. If someone feels bad about something, I'd tell them the things that are beautiful about them. I'd tell them that they are enough. I'd make them smile, until they laugh, because that is beautiful.
I like to beautify things. Even though he makes me sad at night, I'd still look at his pictures and somehow, they make me feel okay. I like to beautify sadness. I find ways to distract the demons. I grasp his photograph and stare at it until I fall asleep.
I like to beautify things — things, people, feelings, emotions. I don't like seeing anyone feel less beautiful. I don't want seeing something less beautiful. Maybe it's because I lack beauty, and seeing others being beautiful somehow fills the gap.
I like to beautify everything — everything but myself.
—Thalia Bautista; Why am I not beautiful?
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
"Why do we keep on waiting for things that we know are not going to happen?"
"Because we're helpless. We tend to hope, regardless of all the contradictions. We wait because we want it so bad—so bad that we are willing to jump into nothingness than to believe it's non-existent. We choose to take an endless ride than to believe it's all over. We choose to walk on a tight rope not knowing how to balance, than to walk on plain ground but not taking risks.
We keep on waiting for them to love us—when their love for us does not even exist."
—Thalia Bautista
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
Mummy Pink Handkerchief your Tears did soak
Since Weeping Photos soothe her Memory
A Child's own Program nurse her Arms long besought
And Soul's own Moments found Solace on Bounty
How can we Forgive this Black-Hooded Veil
Whose Scythe robbed your Smiles as weary as his Face?
Yet Honest Purpose met by Facts would Prevail
That Beings on this Sphere Lasts as it Fades
Worthy then, must we Cringe the Heart to Bleed
When such Space left for your Mum's Smile constrict
And Merry her - Deeply - Immortal she is
Her New Body housed on your own Soul permit.
Though Beloved my Mentor, Smile please Afford
Her Spirit in yours; At Work your Laughter Re-Born.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
sugarcoated words
only plain
and straight-to-the-point
conversations.
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
texting you every minute.
Instead,
I'll just hit you up
whenever I feel like it.
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
begging for your time
because I'll make sure
that this time
you're gonna
beg for mine.
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
cute dates
instead,
I'd leave your invite
on read
and for nothing,
I'd let you wait.
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
selfless thoughts
I won't care about you
if you don't care enough.
If I were to love again,
there will be no more
late night talks
I'd sleep just right before
you could even try to start.
If I was to love again
I won't make it
identical as how
I have loved before
because
If I were to love again —
Oh,
I don't think I ever will.
Not
like
this.
—Thalia Bautista; I don't want to love like this
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall
When will I be as fair as them all?
When will these eyes glimmer like stars?
When will this skin be as smooth?
When will this lips be as cherry-like?
When will this hair not be electrified?
When will these hands be worth holding?
When will this touch feel like the breeze in the morning?
When will I be, mirror on the wall?
When will I be as fair as them all?
When will this face I see
Reflecting in the mirror back at me
Be who she really desires—
To be a girl with a face pleasing to the eyes;
Someone who's irreplaceable, and one of a kind
When will she not get left behind?
So all I ask, mirror on the wall
When will she be as fair as them all?
Will you make me as fair as them all?
Words by Thalia Bautista
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 1:34 PM UTC
When the words just spilled
When the ink just turned into letters
That's when you know a part of you
Has just been put onto paper
When the pen comes to life
When your hands fall out of control
That's when you know your feelings
Are being put onto paper
When your emotions need release
When no one's there for you
That's when you know your sorrows
Are being put onto paper
And what comes from those lines
Are the things you've been hiding inside
And those papers, they take hold
Of the stories you hide
---Thalia Joy Bautista; Papers
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
If the time is not right and I die – just be brave,
Read this to ease the brokenness inside, Love!
Let the tears run from thy eyes down to the ground of my grave.
I’ll accept it as condolence for my body underneath - for my spirit above.
My vitriolic tone shall not surprise thee.
I wrote this to whoever has cared.
Grief can be expressed, but not forever – I am now free.
Thereby in hearts - will leave scars and on time - will leave fear, instead.
If time concurs, I now have to die to wake up my legacy.
This is the inevitable sorrow that we can’t run into, but face.
No one can heal, but at least try to find some remedy.
Send love, above is farewell, and in the earth is your warmest embrace.
The life of ours won’t end in death,
It is in living without love and leaving without legacy at our last breath.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 5:07 PM UTC
Cada cinta de fuego
que, en busca del Amor,
arrojo y vibra en rosas lamentables,
me da a luz el sepelio de una víspera.
Yo no sé si el redoble en que lo busco,
será jadear de roca,
o perenne nacer de corazón.
Hay tendida hacia el fondo de los seres,
un eje ultranervioso, honda plomada.
La hebra del destino!
Amor desviará tal ley de vida,
hacia la voz del Hombre;
y nos dará la libertad suprema
en transubstanciación azul, virtuosa,
contra lo ciego y lo fatal. .
Que en cada cifra lata, .
recluso en albas frágiles,
el Jesús aún mejor de otra gran Yema!
Y después. .. La otra línea...
Un Bautista que aguaita, aguaita, aguaita...
Y, cabalgando en intangible curva,
un pie bañado en púrpura.
396
In my arduous heart - dwells my fear.
Weighing egal rights, before the spring.
These ices from winter colds,
Heat up by the sun that never gets old.
I’m the sun on the day of summer
You’re the ice in the winter.
You said, “I don’t need a piece of your shine”.
You’re getting colder and for you it’s fine.
How can I let you be?
-If you stop at the count of three.
I think I should go now…
‘Cause I can’t take this anyhow.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
With these broken feet, I'll stand.
I'll wake my soul to life without gettin' fear of my dungeon inside.
I'll let go of my fear where the grievous suffering is in store.
& I'll let the world of truth be the one to deplore and abhor.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 3:30 AM UTC
How can I able to start this line?
Words are lapsing, not my heart.
Just give me time to think about rhyme.
And I will do mind its rhyme scheme just for this part.
Its sequel dwells within our past.
Like their love when they first introduced the world to us.
How gratitude can be seen?
Not through giving medal as the best mother on earth.
But through giving respect that's what they need.
Recognize their feelings at the same time, their worth.
Reminiscing yesterday will bring strength tomorrow.
Like the sunset will have to set its beautiful hue without tears and sorrow.
And at their sunset, we'll see their lips twist into a sardonic smile.
Their eyes will twinkle with mirth, without thinking about their time.
-Aubergine Cher Bautista
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 3:27 AM UTC