Did the words leave her hanging 

or have she left them scattered?

Soaked and smashed on the ground–

Not a single meaning could be found.
So nonsense verses were written,

As the poetess lost her rhythm;
Like a lunatic, she just keeps humming–

Mindlessly tapping her fingers, eyes aren’t shining;
Like how it used to,

As she sings along with the wind,

And the stars dance as the melody plays,

Blinking her scars away.
Yet the song stopped–

And so did she.

Lost in the  darkest, loneliest, 

And unforgiving sea.

Disclaimer: The sketch is originally a pinterest photo.  Let’s say I’m a copycat.  Harhar.  Ctto.  😚


She Who Writes

She who writes
About anything,
Almost everything,
That fascinates
Her senses—
Wonders how it would feel
To be a muse
Of someone else’s
Poetic piece.

She who writes
For others,
About others,
And letting them
Live through eternity
Inside the delicate pages
Of her memory—
Wonders how it would feel
To be someone else’s
Remarkable character
Of an unending story.

She who writes
About grief,
About bliss,
About emptiness,
About inscrutable fear—
Wonders how it would feel
To be someone else’s
Unbearable pain
And unexplainable mirth,
Though she roams afar
Or dangerously near.

She who writes
About every tear
That falls from above
And caught by the ground—
Wonders how it would feel
To be someone else’s
Tiny drop
Of rain
On a sunny day
Caught by each palm,
Kept inside each hand.

She who writes
Wants to be written,
To be marked by ink,
To be kept,
To be cherished,
To be remembered,
To be alive
Not for every living soul,
But for those
Who hold her heart.


I’ve been trying to put it into words.
I’ve been trying to put YOU into words.
And the cycle goes on and on.

What shall I say about you?
Would it even give justice to the greatest woman I’ve ever known?
Would it be enough to tell the world,
That you are my everything and more?

Words are never our way to reach out.
And so I know that words won’t be enough.
I just wanted to write a poem for thee.
But all I can scribble is your name,
And that’s what the whole world means to me.

Eighteenth Entry

It’s been a long, long time.
I must have forgotten how it felt
That I let it linger on my skin.
I let it land on my palm;
Wishing I can grasp it while it lasts.

I felt it on my face, as I look into the sky.
And the tiny pieces of pain and mirth
gladly poured into my life.
The euphoric scent sent shivers to my spine;
And I smiled through the busy sound of the city,
And a clock that ticks; not caring about the time.




Artwork by: Kevin Requio

(Originally published in The Licom Collegian)

I was walking on a trail,
To a place, I’ve always known
A land you must have heard of;
A tale that must be told

In the woods, I saw blithesome colors
Of life, love and harmony
Gratified by this miracle, birds chitter
Humming a mirthful melody

Flowers dance with the breeze
Showing off pulchritude; alluring the bees
Felicitously flying from one to another
Savoring pollen; a procreant deed

Sunshine streaks through the leaves
Sending warm to every living thing
The waters flow from the stream
Crystal clear where fishes swim.

At night, the moon speaks
Of a starry sky and serenity
Wind plays a tune of bliss
Blanketed with tranquility

Delighted, I wanted to see more
So I took a step, yet I stumbled.
My surrounding twirled, everything’s disheveled
And I almost cried with the sight
Like a battlefield after a fight.

The sun that gives off light and life
Now irately pierces through thin air
The once fertile land is now barren,
Let’s change – an uproar; but when?

The aftermath of our cruelty
Nature’s wrath is a living hell
Climate change; drought and floods
Raging storms ruthlessly taking lives

Can you hear her cry?
Do you get her message?
It’s karma, but we shan’t lose hope
There are still ways to save the globe

Nature is a gift from up above
A treasure to cherish from God
Feel, think, act; don’t just talk
Remember, we only have one earth

I pray not to walk on a shattered trail
To a place unknown.
A land I once heard of;
A tale I wish not to be told


And so I walk with my bare feet;
Only to efface the numbness in it.
and feel the cold railings which lingers;
beneath my fragile fingers.

I look into you,
With my eyes shouting every woe;
Deafening silence blankets the night,
And a query comes out, “would you make things right?”

If I fall into you,
Would cold sweat start streaming down my cheeks?
Would my heart stubbornly beat against my chest?
Would my hand quiver,
like a flower dancing in a tempest?

If I fall into you,
Would the cool breeze caress my face,
As the sunshine streaks unto my skin?
Would I hear the gentle swaying of the leaves,
Through the harsh blowing of the wind?

If I fall into you,
Would you promise me serenity?
That though the long wait for me to fall,
Caused you troubled anticipation,
It wouldn’t matter at all?

If I fall into you,
And my suffering ends,
Would I stop feeling this inscrutable fear?
Would this unending feeling of emptiness,
Finally come to a stop right here?

If I fall into you,
Would I find that haven I longed for?
Would I finally find a place for my repose;
Would my lost soul be finally home?

If I fall into you,
And you’d catch me with no doubt,
Would you let me gaze at the moon and the stars,
And let it lit up my eyes?

Let it be the last thing I’d see.
Let it witness my fall, my imaginary sea.
And I’d gladly leap off this tower,
And dive myself into;
I’d gladly swim through the rough breeze,
And finally fall into you.