Work of Art

Dearie,
I may be no artist
But let me draw you
With my own
Stroke of words
And color you
With the same passion
Running through my veins
Up unto my heart

In that way
I’d immortalise you
And the memories we’d never make
And keep the artwork
In my own
Secluded gallery
While you pass your years away
Living the life you always wanted
Living the life as if I’d never existed.

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Red: A Poem for Miriam Defensor Santiago

Red

For the relentless pursuit of interest

Not of one’s self,

but of the compatriots you dearly loved and deeply cared about.

 

Red

As in endless spite of swords daggered

Upon those reduced to treason

Against the welfare of land

Where our heroes had given us birth.

Source: philnews.ph

Red

The color of strength

A selfless dedication to service

A passion religiously taken

Through the height of your fierce,

‘Til the dusk of your breath.

 

And though finally you have taken flight

Never are the heavens far to reach—

For a glance above is all one needs

And a conspicuous fireball will then surface,

And it is you

We are looking up to.

Senator Miriam Defensor Santiago, June 15, 1945 – September 29, 2016. Maraming salamat po!

Scribbles in Sheets

​Scribbles in sheets-

Hues differ from another-

Faces of their kind

Vulnerably carved.

Scribbles in sheets-

Covered in dust, may be,

Rather dull of nostalgia

To no degree.

Scribbles in sheets-

Apart from flesh and blood-

Are what keeps us all

Human.

Butterfly Kisses

 

The sound of rain tapping hard on the roof and the howling wind against the window pane sound like a classical music to her nerves that stimulate all her dying senses. She looked up at him as he drifted off silently. How peaceful you are, she thought, like a sweet child unknown of the harsh blanket clouting your little playground. His shallow breathing formed a light moist against her forehead; sweet and tender with a tinge of grapes. She closed her eyes as she reminisced about how she loved it; nights spent in a cold and dark room as the two of them seek fire from each other’s touch. As though their skins are of great combination to ignite flames through a delicious friction only them could make. She gently skimmed his bare chest with her candle-like fingers, savored every inch of his flesh, every chest hair that seemed like unstrummed guitar strings. She left butterfly kisses on and felt the warmth of his soft lips. Continue reading “Butterfly Kisses”