"pss" poems
robotic
demon
that can
sound like
a kid or a man
or a dog or a wo-
man. Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Know that I love you.
PS,
Woof
PSS,
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.
♥
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
I will take all the chances i can
Chance to hold your hands
Chance to make you smile
Chance to see you look at me
Chance to love you eternally
But that does not end in just a few chances
Cause chances are nothing when youre in love
Why?
Because this chances can come true with the power of falling in love.
Love can make you do things
Things youve never done before
Things youve never felt before
But we're too scared of new, so was i
I was scared and still.
Being scared can make your wishes fall into pieces. So was i.
I was scared.
Scared of loving her. Loving my bestfriend.
I was even scared of calling her "my bestfriend".
I was scared being judged.
Being judged by loving someone who is also like me.
A girl.
So, here I am.
Hearing my broken heart breaking each time
i hear your name,
see your pictures,
its just too painful too feel.
If you ever see this letter i wish you will feel it was me, your friend. letting you know that you caught my heart.
So im begging you.
Please dont play with it.
If you do, im okay as long as you still hold it just please dont let it go.
I came to your life as a friend, a girl best friend. I wanted more but i know my limits so i sacrifice my heart and let it burn to numb the pain.
I miss you, ill see you next school year. As a friend.
Your secretly lover, bestfriend.
Ps. Besh pag mali mali english sorry nag mamadali mag type
Pss. Tamad ako. Tamad. So sorry talaga
Psss. Mag momove on na ko. Hahaha char.
....
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
The wind whirls
and traffic stops
Bring on the rain
and watch it pour for miles
all around
Thoughts and dreams melt from the sky
To be there with you is one thing
to have you with me is another
Waiting patiently
sometimes too anxious
I turn again to patience
Time ticks as the rain falls
as will the sun
Though it rises
and we have our victories
it soon shall set
upon our defeats
Rise with the sun
not after
and realize the prosperity one has
of being free
Free from all ideas, demands, wants, greed
evil and need
I fight my way against the traffic
as does the rain against
windshields
I’m greedy too I tell myself
but aren’t we all?
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
~
his ropes are worn but hold the strain;
they’ve seen far worse in wind, in rain.
his deck is bare, his winch is full,
his back and arms ache. yet again;
though soon his catch the hold will fill,
with hissing jaws and snapping claws;
reward of toil with traps of steel.
’neath cloud and sun, to dusk from dawn,
with weathered hand he works and sweats;
to bring to port ’fore sun has set,
there’s hungry mouths to feed at home;
a wife whose face his hands to hold.
in years still young, but days too old,
these seas have aged his weathered soul;
and eyes that peer neath bill-ed hat,
have wept as waves stole all he has;
not once, but twice they claimed his lot,
sunk to its bed like fallen stone;
but skill and luck his love has bought,
her prayers from home have brought him back.
of fable and of myth he’s made,
cup of saltiness with pinch of sin;
with baited traps he lays in wait,
yet knows he is the baited one;
for he’ll ne’er throw in these lines,
or trade his trusted trawler in.
a farmer’s life may suit his love,
but this she sees would be his end;
and so she lives each day in wait,
for his trawler's horn to sound.
this too she knows far too well,
one day his horn will sound no more.
no coffin nor a stone he’ll need;
the sea will bear him to that shore,
his lasting gift to her is them,
each child's face, his own imprint.
the sea his final resting place.
his voice to hear amidst the wind;
~
*post script.
an imagined crabber and lobsterman; with mouths to feed and a love he needs back home, owing much to prayer and good fortune, though even this has it limits as the sea's rigors daily tempt fate. these lines mused from my own castings of traps and nets... of harvesting the sea’s bounty for a mere weekend, with my lover near at hand.
https://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/05/magazine/a-speck-in-the-sea.html
pss. i am many months away and life has changed; these changes are still a work in progress. my goals too have been rearranged... death and hardship have that effect on us, though sometimes change that feels alarming actually takes us to a place of salvation; this being my constant hope! i make no promises that i am back, only that for now i am here, and have missed you and the sacredness of these walls.*
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 1:45 PM UTC
The garden cats aren’t mine
with my pss-pss-pss
and shuffle finger
I try to entice them
but mainly, warily
they ignore in the truest
feline tradition
to leave me and my allergies
wishing
Apr 17, 2021
Apr 17, 2021 at 8:51 AM UTC