for Magpie Tales, Prose Poetry, Writing

A Lover’s Salty Plee

La Jument, photo by Jean Guichard

The last memory I had was being on a boat sailing on a lovely canal,

with Christmas lights wrapped around the wooden rows.

I had to securely tape the power supply I made specially for this night.

I owe you one. I owe you this. You and me, just letting things be. 

The next thing I knew is that we’re in the middle of this angry ocean,

beating us like we spilled oil in one of its waters.

No boat was anchored meters away.

No airplanes that I hear of. How did we get here, my love?

If not for this rocky fortress, I would assume we were doomed —

Lungs filled with saltwater, our struggles we would eternally curse.

Remember though that for as long as we breathe the same salty air,

No wave is a maverick — ’cause we’d surf over them.

Tomorrow might be a nightmare. A future with a sink hole.

A Yolanda fiercer than ever. An oceanic beast.

Invincible, we may not be, but let our love shine to the Almighty

that He’ll calm all storms and let us be in paradise.

Standard
Journal Entry Excerpts, Writing

Dead Butterflies in My Stomach

I woke up today to a bad news. When I heard my boyfriend sob over the phone, I knew what was wrong. The man has died. His father. Curse cancer cells. But, that’s just his way of saying goodbye to life. Hard. Frustrating. Torturous. And pretty expensive. No one deserves that, but He knows why such things happen.

I kind of knew this day would come. And I know he did too. Tito was a strong man until the second set of chemotherapy. I mean, he can still travel for long hours. He can still walk around the city. He can still do his job at home (he’s a baranggay captain). He still communicates with his sons. He joins in the celebrations — the 1st birthday of her first granddaughter. I didn’t really see him get weak and bedridden.

I was aloof of talking to him on our first few encounters, but as the encounters slowly frequented, he began talking to me. He would ask me to come eat. He would say goodbye whenever we would part ways. He would tell me to eat some siopao while my boyfriend was roaming around the mall with his uncle while we (his dad, sister-in-law and the 4 cute kids) wait for them. I did ate one siopao. I thought and hoped that I could have another dad in him (yeah, I know, I am assuming we’re not yet married) even though I know his situation. I kind of missed my dad. He died too ten years ago, a few weeks after I turned 16 and a few days I became a member of the Youth for Christ.

ea767b2f7c1530154fb36b92ddbfef1f

I called in sick just to be with my boyfriend today. I felt sick inside. I wouldn’t want him to be alone because being alone with lonely thoughts would drive people mad. And I don’t want a mad boyfriend. I mentally reminded myself not to ask him if he’s okay because I know that he’s not. Losing one parent is hard. Losing two is not just doubly hard. It’s like you lost your home to a typhoon. His mother died when he was sixteen too.

He has to go home to his hometown so I accompanied him to the bus terminal, but he ended up dropping me in a mall where he would take another bus because it’s already running late and I need at least 2-3 hours to go back to my apartment.

Hours back when we were still riding the first bus that we need to take, a woman, in her late 20s suddenly got up and talked about God’s word. I used to feel uncomfortable around them, but now I salute the courage and the willingness that they have just to spread God’s love. As if on cue, she talked about death. Like how we all have one life to live and that we need to see the urgency of the realization that we need to do things that would bring us closer to our Lord. It was sort of comforting and I kind of peeked on my boyfriend if he was listening, but I saw him closing his eyes. He was sleeping. When the talk ended, the lady gave out envelopes for donations to their mission. Our eyes met and I began to pull out my wallet, but he said he had some money on his pocket. My boyfriend and I usually ignore these things, but on that envelope, we actually placed something inside.

Now, he’s on the way back to his hometown and I have no idea until when he’ll be there. The idea of being away from him on his lowest moments just kind of sucked. Now, if only I was only purely working online, I could have accompanied him right then and there. But, I have work. And my Saturday classes would kind of get in the way too. But, I’ll be there with him next week. Or next next week. The days should move out fast. 😦

Standard
for Magpie Tales, Writing

Magpie Modays: A Couch Too Big for One {Re-Post}

A Couch Too Big for One


The dame has been in this scenario for quite some time,

quite forlorn,

unbounded freedom,

mostly unaccompanied.

 

The space seems too vast for her fragility,

it eats her up,

too vexing,

breeds out a deafening monotony.

 

Casually, someone would sit for tea,

and she smiles,

elevated happiness,

and temporary highs.

 

In her mind, she grips his wrist,

tightly,

forcefully,

lovingly.

 

But, she snaps back to reality,

he went

and sat

on another red couch.

 

And she casually brushed her way to the couch’s middle,

sipped her tea,

inhaled deeply,

and bit her tea-stained lip.

 

Standard
for Magpie Tales, Prose Poetry, Writing

Magpie Mondays: She stopped

photo by Elena Kalis

I stopped using only half of my heart.

I learned it would only give you nothing,

leaving you in between,

in turmoil, dazed, confused, forever in dawning.

 

I stopped carrying heavy loads,

I learned it would only bring you down,

withdrawn from the world,

unfazed, oblivious with a frown.

 

I stopped listing at some point,

I learned it wouldn’t get you anywhere,

goal-driven, yet no action,

slacking, stuck in midair.

*Written for the Magpie Tales.

Standard
for Magpie Tales, Writing

A Whiff of Vicissitude

Waking, Walking, Singing, in the Next Dimension? 1979 by Morris Graves

Frail and obedient,

that used to be me.

Silent, unquestioning,

always following.

But, when I took a sip

of the nectar dew on

one green stalk

that afternoon.

My little wings sliced the air,

my beak glistened against the sunset’s last rays.

I flew higher, faster.

Unrestricted.

Emotions bred actions

that I desire.

I turned selfish,

yet still frail.

Dazzling,

dainty.

I became,

with you.

*Written for the Magpie Tales

Standard