I pull open the door
And hunt for food in the dim orange light.
"There's nothing inside"
Well, actually,
There is something:
Months old cream cheeses precariously stacked atop each other,
Several mysterious bottles of brown sauces,
Dried out leafy vegetables,
But nothing
This lazy *** can eat without preparing.

I push close the door,
Leaving my stomach rumbling and empty,
But filling my mind with
Dreams

Three-fourths of the dull gray door is covered
With colorful ceramic magnets
From my dad’s corporate adventures
To Batangas, Bohol, Bacolod, Davao,
Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia, Macau,
Nepal, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, China,
Dubai, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia
Sudan, Egypt, Ethiopia,
Canada, Greece, and Australia.

I examine each magnet’s contour and shine,
Letting its foreign dust seep into my fingers.
I dream that soon
I will return all those dusts to their lands
And bring home more magnets of my own.

Kausa, kaduha, maihap ra.
Ang mga laag sa mag barkada.
Ug kini napun-an na.
Sa Bohol, diin sila milarga.

Pageskwela ang gihinungdan
Sabay silang naglayag. apan:
Ang usa wala kakuyog kay nasakit.
Duna poy wala, sa trabaho nasangit.

Di man kompleto tuod, pero,
Nagpakalingaw ang mga giro
Kay panagsa ra tawn magsalo
Pawala sa mga labad sa ulo.

Busa unta kini masundan pa,
Ug sa umaabot kompleto na.

a prison of faux white pillars
a jail of crisp green water
and perfect blue sky

she lies motionless,
infected with fever

my true love's far away,
infected with life.

i.

Off to Fuga island
Next to the pamalican;
Then to Bucas grande
In the turquoise shallow end's.

ii.

Next, the Mactan
Wherein the grain's art caramel tan;
Then to the land of Coran
And Cebu, where the shore meet's the dawn.

iii.

Hiding safely, on Bohol isle
There art tarsier, and thing's of wild;
Diogo islet next, an uninhabitable place
Me and mine Reyna shalt explore it, with tribal paint on face.

iv.

Off, to the great Santa Cruz
Ourn feet, in the pink corraline sand;
Zamboanga City, the southern region
Of this Filipino relic strand..

v.

Whilst next the Sangat
The western part of this expedition;
Whilst doing all this sight-seeing
It shalt be with mine Jane nagley, in earth's natural kitchen.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication

Only accept what you cannot give.
Only expect what you can't receive.
Love is kind and marvelous. Believe.
You made me believe, love.
You made me. We need not
Answer why-s.

The past sorted out the stars tonight.
The same auspicious stars will arrange
The moments for tomorrow.
The same boat of time will be
Old enough for fireflies and
Crescent moons, somewhere,
On a majestic river in Bohol.

This spoon, this fork, this red
Straw on clear, perspiring glass of
Red tea, this ill-fated receipt,
The wooden tables and chairs
With uneven leg-lengths,
Those couples over there,
The lamps, the crew, the ambiance,
The long line at counter number 3,
The clock, that classic clock,
Especially, knows that--
That I love you. I love you,
Because you showed me how.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

Looking at the picture we took in Bohol
15 years ago, I was still 3years old and you were 5.
We were still cute little children
who raised our brows while looking at
the opposite direction, with hands crossed
and avoiding each other.

You were wearing your blue t-shirt
that I've hated for the entire year
'cause you always brag at me how
your mama forcibly bought it for you.
I just got jealous though 'cause when I did what you did,
my mama didn't fall for it.

But then again we were cute little children
who hated each other, who argued all the time
especially when our kindergarten teacher
made us paint different objects everyday
with you as my partner.

Those moments, when we were still children,
this picture, makes my face painted with
the unforgettable smile right now.

This time, we took a picture again,
But a different one from before.
This time, we stayed closer, given our best shot
and showed the most beautiful smile we could
ever show.
This time, your arms are around my shoulders
and my head is leaning on yours.
This time, the hate has faded and is replaced with
love, love and only love.

And comparing these two pictures
from our childhood stage
and teenage stage makes me realize that
the best enemies could also become
the best lovers in the end.

We were in the cemetery
Afternoon of June 29
It was his birthday
Another birthday without the celebrant

Mother placed yellow candles over him
And sunflowers over the grass
His favorite color

40 years of life
8 years gone
Or 8 years in another world
If you believe in that stuff

I walked around
And saw others' resting grounds
Some dead before I was even born
Others dead at the prime of childhood
Simple tombstones, mausoleums, caskets

A burial was taking place on the other street
Mourners dressed in dark shades
A priest, the only one in white

I was wearing white
My mother was wearing violet

After the niceties and the prayers
We had a little picnic
Chicken Adobo
Mom tries her best
But can't replicate the flavour of his

I reminisce of my days of innocence
In the green gate of the school
When he picks me up
The gray sand of Baler
Where he grew up
The brown hills of bohol
My first plane ride

I was now 8 years in disbelief
8 years in trouble
8 years in agony

The salt of the meal moves me to tears
Imperfect replicas of perfect memories
But I can't let myself cry

I remembered suddenly the night before
In a quick glance
I thought I saw his face in the mirror
But it was just my tired face
I was listening to "Bato sa Buhangin" by Cinderella

On the drive home
I listened to the same song
It was his favourite
He could play the melody with a guitar
Something I've been practicing for a while now
But fail to do

At home
On the bed before I sleep
It finally erupts
And I say to myself
"Father, why did you leave us!"