Monthly Archives: June 2016

“Know What I Think?”

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I think that the Stars are lonely though they appear together every night.

They can’t move to hold hands unless it’s time for them to die

and fall to the earth as giant fireballs,

hoping their collision will be the next best thing to a kiss.

 

I think the Sky is secretly pink.

He is just too sensitive that he stole the color of the Sea

to hide his femininity.

The Sea on the other hand is his crestfallen lover who shed everything,

even her own color, to reflect what her lover is.

And sometimes when he notices her suffering, a bit of pink

peeks out from the blue.

 

I think the Trees stand tall or bend low on windy days

just so they could hear the musings of both Sea and Sky.

I also think they love to gossip as they whisper day and night.

 

I think that the Night never really chases after the Day.

It just so happens that he likes to go where the sun has been.

The moonlit chill made him cold enough that

a sliver of her warmth couldn’t hurt.

 

I think that Pain could feel herself all the time.

She just got used to the feeling she is numb

to her own sensation. Now Love

is more selfish than we think.

Just imagine giving himself away for free

then demanding too much once felt.

Like a Rose ready for the picking yet draws out blood once held.

I think she still looks beautiful… and deadly.

 

I think Death is the kindest of them all.

He hides in the shadows and comes out to the light

just so he could tuck us in bed for one last sleep.

He cares enough to risk burning his pale skin in the sun

even though we don’t want him to.

 

I think God is the master of figurative speech.

He makes sure that his metaphors and ironies never left anything clear.

Because something as clear as glass breaks easily.

But something as muddled as a swamp has unfathomable depth.

Maybe God is also a writer; and all writers are godly –

the way they create universes with mere words

and have their creation withstand the test of time.

 

You know what I think?

I think words are useless unless understood.

so is God, so is Love and Pain, so is Death, so are

the Stars, Sea, and Sky… So is a Rose.

 

I think so am I. Luckily you are there

to understand my chaos.

You know what I think?

I think that U and I are the only letters in the alphabet

that sounds lovely though they’re far apart.

 

First Darkness, then the Stars

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Last night, a night almost like this one,

the sky shattered.

I, like everyone else, was enjoying

the luxury that is life.

Then there was darkness.

As if everything caved in and suffocated me with pitch black, night swallowed the world…

Or at least just the street I live in.

A mere power outage shook me to my core.

And it’s not because of exaggeration but rather the realization that light was gone.

So I went outside and peeked from the balcony,

glimpsed the neighborhood coming alive as if one big irony, everyone breathed nocturnal breath.

And while they rationalized the source of the blackout I was transfixed by the sky.

It was littered with stars foreign to me.

Foreign because I never took time to notice them before.

Then I did not see stars anymore. I saw white dots on a black canvas begging to be connected.

And so I obliged them and sewn them together. I did not see dots anymore.

I saw one shattered mirror hanging above us. Yet it did not reflect our world. It was busy reflecting what’s beyond.

Then the stars moved and they were not stars anymore, they were fireflies dancing without respect to science or mythology. I connected them and I saw…

A kaleidoscope.

It was amazing what beauty I witnessed because of artificial failure.

How it took a power outage for me to notice the stars.

Last night the sky shattered while it completed my day.

 

 

“Author to his Muse”

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You once told me you love words.

That you enjoy their magic,

like a sorcerer with a spell book.

You adore hearing harmless letters

entwine into a powerful force.

A force at your command, power at your disposal.

And so I made myself into words.

Each letter was my breath,

each sound revealed my soul,

each syllable formed my thoughts.

I surrounded myself with them like cozy blankets

embracing me in cold nights.

I made sure I became the poet, novelist, writer, scholar you will adore.

My words, an enigma to all except you,

I purposefully designed to warble inside your ears.

Entranced were we by each other’s power,

drawn by our force.

We slept under our own morphological universe.

I became the words you love and you, my muse.

Creation itself cannot compare with what we have written.

A poem, a novel, a ballad,  a story. Ours.

They say the author is the genius behind it all…

 

 

 

 

 

I say the muse.