Almost Qarah

Art, Love, Poetry, Uncategorized

She turned her head to her right

She caught your eyes in sight

You smiled to her delight

One, two, three, four, five

She’s locked in gaze alive

Swiftly hypnotic,

Beautifully chaotic

Five-ish, afternoon before sunset

You met but never met

Graveyard of the brave hearts

An unknown story departs

A pair of wheels

A pair of strangers

Gaze exchangers

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This is how the writer writes

Poetry, Writing

How does her mind meet a thought?

Sometimes it is that magical coincidence of words crossing ways

like serendipity

    — finding something good she didn’t even look or ask for

But at times, too, it’s just one smelly ‘spell’

when her mind meets (or never meets) a thought

like constipation

   — ‘laboring’ so hard

         or feel

        like waiting a decade

        before something ‘glorious’ comes out

This is how the writer writes.

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photo: loyola.edu

Midnight Musings

Bite Sized Thoughts, Life Lessons and Impressions, Poetry

This is night life, she speaks. To no one but herself and her virtual pen.

Over cups of milk tea, she drinks drop by drop.

The cool wind that blankets her skin, the sensible pages and the momentary silence in between. There is an odd, yet pleasant chemistry along her Clementine, his ragged old guitar and those papers that ‘sing’.

She sips again. And again. And yearns for the mysteries of the hours between the nightfall and the dawn.

She captures a thought.

The flavor is called nostalgia. It tastes like a tension between joy and tears.

Photo credit: Cacao footage | Stock clips & videos

Photo credit: Cacao footage | Stock clips & videos

Sa Bawat Pagtingala/ As She Looks Up

Poetry

Sa bawat pagtingala

sa buwan at mga tala

naghahabi ng wika,

awit at tula

ang puso ng makatangnagkukulang sa salita

Buntong hininga.

Sasambit na lamang ang kanyang dila,

“Isang himala”

English Translation: As She Looks Up

As she looks up each time

to the moon and the stars

she weaves a language,

a song or a poetry

this heart of a poet

who runs out of words

Sigh.

And all that her tongue could utter,

“A miracle”

She Bleeds, She Queries

Love, Poetry

Is it the wound of her soul

that grieves,

for the universe has swallowed

her courage to gamble

what might have been?

 

Is it the wound of her soul

that paints

the shades of fear 

of suffering

from surrendering?

 

Again, she queries,

“Which pain is greater?” 

 

(September ___, 2014)

Painting credit: Broken Heart by Patricia St. Clair http://www.paintingsilove.com

(September __, 2014)

Now

Love, Photography, Poetry

now, the sky is bluer than blue

now,  the grass is greener than green

now, twilight is brighter than bright

now,  the  night is closer than the day

but still my heart gropes for words

now, to you I have to say

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Painting Diaries

Art, Poetry

she wipes her cheeks,

grabs the paintbrushes,

strikes some streaks,

an empty space that gushes

colors, beautiful colors.

“Are they my tears?”

she stains her collars,

smiles,

forever wonders. 

The Sea, the Sun and Your Son

Christianity, Faith, Love, Photography, Poetry

I see Your face

          in the morning

                 and the setting sun

 

I hear Your peace

                 in the quiet evening

              by waters that run

 

I feel Your embrace

               in the days coming

                            with Your Love, never gone

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summer 6

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summer 7

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summer 1

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summer 4 summer 5

summer 10

summer 11 summer9

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Photos taken at a friend’s private resort,

Burias Breeze Resort, Maramba, Oas, Albay, 2010