for Magpie Tales, Writing

A Thousand

88be8-poets

A thousand books to read,
the immortal classics,
how Β society behaves on different stimuli feed
and the unending attempts of novels in defining love.

A thousand places to go see,
where Oscar Wilde grew,
where waves dance in the Caribbean Sea,
andΒ where dust from the iconics were left on Abbey Road.

A thousand tastes to let linger,
of which honeybees made,
meat bursting with sapid ginger,
and velvety cupcakes I wouldn’t be too happy to fork through.

A thousand thoughts to write,
of what-if love stories,
silvering the mundane and the trite,
just stroking out the heart pulses on pads or paper.

A thousand reasons to skip sleep,
for the world is simply brimming
and start ups keep being nipped.
Oh, how sweet it would be if we could just do more.

*Written for the Magpie Tales

Standard
Prose Poetry, Writing

Charity Avenue I

Charity Avenue I

 

Work has been hard,

I took the day off.

 

Unfortunately, the boss says I’m needed.

So, off I go to work — at brunch time.

 

I have to go get my laundry first,

I thought.

 

“Do you have change?”,

the laundry lady asked.

 

Goodbye to the last hundred peso bill

and to some shiny silver coins.

 

Boarded the jeepney.

Coins? The last exact change.

 

Off, I hopped and I asked the bread lady,

“I need to get some change for this.”

[Presented a 500 peso bill.]

 

“No can do.”, she replied.

I retorted, “Alright. I’ll buy a bottle of water then.”

 

Change, at long last.

Alas! It’s nearing noon. Pft.

 

I was on haste when

an old homeless lady blocked my way.

 

I turned around, and talked to the bread lady again,

“One pack of bread please.”

 

I grabbed it and gave it to the aged woman.

And I have more change,Β which I really don’t need anymore.

 

I crossed the street and

boarded another jeepney.

 

I thought,Β I should have went to work earlier.

Shouldn’t have hustled ‘coz of the hassles.

 

Then, I remembered my deed,

which involved a pack of six plain buns.

 

 

If it weren’t for the emergency at work,

If it weren’t for the need to go get my laundry,

 

If only the laundry lady has a change,

If only I have enough change for my second fare,

 

If I haven’t stopped to buy the bottled water,

And first of all, if it weren’t for my morning slack feeling,

 

Then, maybe the old lady

wouldn’t have something for lunch.

 

With this, then maybe bad luck could hit me n times a day.

It could be the complete opposite for others.

 

 

Really.

No mocking, whatsoever.

 

 

Shared onΒ Poetry Pantry.

 

This was previously published in my old poetry blog, ‘Fiercer Bait.

Standard