Short*Poetry

Notice that I am posting a few poems at a time lately? Yeah, I decided to post my writings once again. Thanks for those friends/visitors who have sent me some notes. Glad you're all happy that I'm back. Hehe. Hopefully. Anyway, finally done with my French 2 class. Yay. Enrolling for French 3 in the next few weeks. So, my schedule won't be that demanding for a week, at least.

Spreading (Tanka)

darkness—
scurrying
among vines and brambles
behind the trees
taunting the moon.

~ * ~

Nothing Fills Like Poetry

it is not always
about love
that reminds me of you
nor the conversation
under the quiet circle
of stars
you were exciting
staving off dreary days
once, I buried my face through
the slant on this page
remembering how it breathed
pulsed with enchantment
and my hand
pressed on a glittered part
upon my chest

we let the blue unfold
how I love your sorrow
and your voice, but—
I must speak, Neruda...

I will be here
reciting your poems.

I posted this at the Pinoypoets forum where I applied for membership a few days ago, wondering how they would react to my poetry. Most of my poetry online memberships are all foreign, and it's good to be a member of a Pinoy poetry forum. It's a warm and nice group, as well.

Since a lot are asking about my Livejournal, I deliberately deleted it in the meantime because of some reasons. I'll tell you later about it as soon as I start writing there again. If only you knew how much I wanted to write there again. When you're so used in online journaling, you'll really get addicted. But not yet. Well, maybe soon. By the way, I would like to thank Mary and her friends from Iran. Thanks a lot for liking all my haiku. I truly appreciate it. =)

Here are two Tanka poems:

Young Love

"I made that one for you!,"
the boy proudly said
thrust on my hand—
an origami flower
not yet in bloom.

~ * ~

Songbird

I always watch you stand over
that branch where you know
I could hear you sing
afterwards you fly, perhaps to gather
more songs again?

Please, please, please, for those who intend to use my works posted here, I would appreciate it very much if you could inform me about it, and it is imperative that you give credit to me whenever my works are being borrowed in whatever way. I know these are not so deserving of a Pulitzer Prize or somethin' but they're MY OWN writings, and I have a right for each of them. I was having some second thoughts of posting here anymore because of some stealing but I realized that I still want to share them with you, for you to also feel some of my "a-ha" moments in haiku and my emotions as exhibited in my short poems. Thank you for your cooperation. Enjoy!

HAIKU

The Ditch

the ditch
and my 10-peso coin—
a boy smugly smiles

Revisited

revisiting grandpa’s place—
the carabao
and its muddy legs

Munching

munching egg chocolates. . .
suddenly, a hen pecks
on my foot

Hide and Seek

hide and seek
a freckle
and her unbuttoned shirt

Fly

leaking faucet—
a fly wrings up
its hands

Paper flowers

paper flowers. . .
if only you could sense
the life from my hands

Swaying

swaying, the palm fronds
clear a path
for the sun

Starry Night

cross-word puzzle—
tonight, my eyes stray
at the forming Orion

Preening

preening
with raindrops—
the rosebud

Colds

this colds—
but my eyes are burning!
Kleenex mounting

~ * ~

Stepping Into Silence

she dips her hand
in ink
bathes her mind
in sweeps of calmness

soon. . .

she would forget
his fading laughters
to work on a poem
that would stir the moonbeam
off the lake
making it sway
as it rides through the palm
fronds

I wish he knew
she whispered,
the moon’s woeful
light can speak
a beautiful language.

~ * ~

TANKA

Sparkle

I taught myself
to find a small sparkle
in the darkest of night
‘cause there—new dreams grow
within its core

Blue

aflame, the sun sets
like iridescent fireflies
letting me forget
about the blueness
of the ocean
and the blue words on my mind.

I don’t know what to say, but I wanna say something. I don’t know whom to talk to. For the others who see me, nothing might be wrong, but within me, my heart and emotions are breaking down. Thank God for this poetry site—my ally... and for the tears. I just need a good cry, as always... and everything will be fine.

I must post in here some old poems that were not posted for a long time. Others shall follow soon. I haven't abandoned this site. =)

Grass Blades

tonight
watching the grass blades
I know, the wind
does fade away too

Colored Glasses

my colored glasses—
wondering
where rainbows end

Bookstore

bookstore—
upon my hands. . .
the redolence of time

Crystal

on a crystal
the lightning
spins

Rainstorm

rainstorm
unperturbed, a brown leaf
hangs still

~ * ~

Second Chance

I looked back
to days where formless lump
was lodged against my throat.

I sneezed back then, I remember
breathing in an hope
unhampered by longings
forgetting his world
and the poems that were written.

But I wonder
why the sudden warmth?

Perhaps it’s the small pink star
that glitters not far away
and within its rainbow
a heady maze—his breath

on the small of my back
coaxing my heart to soften.

Gaps

daylight’s leaving
yet you paint mornings
whiter
like nothing is there

a word
dissolving in mid-air

you told me about change
of doors shivering the last time
on their hinges
and I understand about grass and dew

of grey lights landing
on bare skin
holding me captive

the odd angle of silence
like the hole we dug in—
where scars were safer
to keep.

It's been a long time since I updated this site. I just haven't been posting some of my poetry here. Some were posted in my Livejournal. I'll find time to post them here one of these days... or months. :P Life is just busy lately.

Launching the new face of this site. Nothin' much has been changed but it looks like a poetry site now. :P 'Tis so pretty and elegantly simple! Just as I wanted it to be. Thank you to Ate Sienna for the beautiful graphics. =)

Watch out for some little changes in the design of this site. Meanwhile, below are my new scribblings. I'm also writing in my Livejournal and they were first posted there.

Sunlight

sunlight finds
itself flattened
on the folds of my curtain

~ * ~

Endless Fog

endless fog
not yet covering
the river’s surface

~ * ~

A Worm

freshly-cut lawn
a worm
trailing grass

~ * ~

Beside My Soup

beside my soup
a candle
sprinkling light

~ * ~

Headstone

headstone...
a butterfly lands
softly on an angel

~ * ~

Palm Tree

palm tree
carved into its trunk...
my name too

~ * ~

Blue Sky

blue sky—
a jet flies
imitating the clouds

~ * ~

At The River

a child throws stones
and the mouth of the waters
slide open

~ * ~

Streetlight

a streetlight
tracing the outline
of my shadow

~ * ~

Breeze

the breeze
races along the loose pages
of a haiku book

~ * ~

Circling Twice

circling twice—
two ants surveying
a cookie

~ * ~

Dawn

parting the mist of dawn
a fisherman paddles
his way home

~ * ~

Grasshopper

too close to touch—
a grasshopper
certain he was alone

~ * ~

Pale Moon

standing closer
to the ocean—
the pale moon

~ * ~

Sky

sky…
even the birds couldn’t measure
your vastness

~ * ~

The Presence of Nothingness

summer
when I touch you
but your skin becomes rain.

I try to hold you
tuck you inside the frail folds
of my pocket
but like a quiet gleam
you slip— shape collapsing

on my palm.

~ * ~

I Can Write Because...

you opened a poem
that was once curled
on the tendrils of my tongue

you told me about hope
when my dreams shivered like
a crystal glass once

after that, it settled
instilling balance
upon a crochet of words
to find

a missing heart.

~ * ~

For Neruda (Tanka)
(after attending a program for his 100th Birthday)

somewhere in those words
there is a poetry made of hearts
the pounding of love
finding its way out
from the one who is not here

The following poems were first posted in my Livejournal.

Snatches

It is morning, Sunday
outside, the children run
screams, noises
she puts down the book she’s reading
a smile on her lips
childhood drifting in and out
her heart ripped
by the strings of a lonely guitar.

This woman-girl, a child on her own
playground different from theirs
her mind watching re-runs of movies;
stories; her dad’s words, "remember that boy?"
"no, but I remember how I felt"
and those muddy shoes!
the grass on her lips
she wonders how they end.

She puts on her glasses, hands trembling
it is windy
she exhales in a cloud of blueness
sighs about things that fade
and of childhood dreams and fears
that remain.

You may noticed that am talking about an old woman. I love talking with old people.

Old Photographs

old photographs
the likeness of grandpa’s
wartime memories

Moon

moon
you stare at me
like I’m so pretty

Muddled Thoughts

covering
my silent reverie—
this endless fog

Just in Time

I grab my heart
from his hand
now, he has no time
to crumple it

The Moon and I

writing, I ask the pretty moon,
"do you ever wonder who’s the poet
tonight?"

Rainfall

rainfall—
the plaintive cry
of an awakened dawn

High Tide

high tide—
I dip my hand to catch
the racing moonlight

Midday Sun

midday sun—
the silver glow
of an eagle’s flight

A Quiet Symphony

green meadows
the sound of grass blades
at play

Disposable

holding
a disposable cup—
it seems so useless now

Lady Girl

stealing my facial cream
my little niece’s attempt
at womanhood

Blindfolded

the moon
in a blindfold—
darkening clouds

The Dialogue

why can’t we see the wind, mother?
so that we would learn how to feel, my son.

Fly

circling
my window—
the beleaguered fly

May Flowers

you, flowers, are such
a show-off
this May

Summerday

summerday—
she finds the wind
in a quivering leaf

The Sweetest Thing

chocolate drink—
an ant tiptoes
unnoticed at first

Restless Wind

restless wind—
a crocus twirls
in confusion

The Old Photograph
there's a haiku to this too above

I saw you
from over the piles
of dust— brown
dashing

lying
a sneeze away

in stillness
I'll sit here now
to know
you more
without words
sense
your dreams
walk
in bits of time
laugh, cry

frame
a golden heart.

My Short*Poetry Site
originally posted as a
comment in cbs's blog

Oh, that place
it has a heart but no one knows
it can shatter
like shards of glass
and this girl will gift it to the moon
where it can’t be stolen
forever to dwell there—
distant
but shining all the more.

maybe they will love it?
for their blue days
when they sip tea
a thirst like my own.

No, I haven't forgotten this site. In fact, I've missed writing poems. =/ Been up to my neck with work, and I feel that am not yet satisfied with my drafts. No time for reflection and deep thinking. All work, and work and... more work. Hope to post soon and will keep 'em coming again. Promise. :P Thanks for always visiting this site. Likewise, thanks for those who have sent me notes/messages and invitations to your poetry groups. I'll make sure to visit and join you soon. =) Meanwhile, you may read my shallowness < here >.

Sipping green tea once again. Heaven. Been sick with cold and slight fever last weekend. I thought I had a sneezing disorder. I don't sneeze like that, you know, one after the other. :P Was bedridden yet did enjoy the rest! Am ok now. And thus, the pen is moving again...

TANKA (a form of short poetry that consist of 5 lines with syllable count not to exceed 31)

Poet In Love

for you, I’ll begin to write
this poem, a new set
of words with my heart
full of yearning
I could not speak.

(It can be titled Inspiration too or whatever you like. Anyone can write a poem anyways when one is in love. It doesn’t take a poet just to write about your beloved. I can see heads nodding in agreement. Good. By the way, I won't fall in love again. It just makes my heart confused and my life complicated. Ahem).

~ * ~

Beauty

I watch two butterflies
flutter their wings
and spread
colors
into the air.

~ * ~

The Suicide Note

I must have written
all night
the lamp flickers
ushering a new day
rest at last.

Oopss.. don’t think about me. :P I’ve read an article about this teenage girl. Know what. I like this poem... The twist at the end. Is there beauty in death?

~ * ~

Togetherness

as you rest your hand
upon my knee
I knew then, this is something
that must remain—
contentment.

~ * ~

Not A Chance

I should have closed
the window
and weep my heart out
if only the birds
would stop singing.

~ * ~

Do You Feel It Too?

if I speak of love
and its wishes
as I squeeze my eyes shut
does your heart
also break?

~ * ~

Forgetting Time

we sit side by side
under the graceful stars
our hands entwined
dawn has arrived
too soon.

~ * ~

Wishes

in bed
with my book
still hoping to cross
the thousand miles
to be with you.

~ * ~

When I Die

will you think of me
when springtime
comes, when the sound
of my laughters
shall echo no more?

~ * ~

Sonata

slowly
stilling time
as the last notes
linger. . .
our old song.

Despite your kind comments, frequent visits and appreciation, how many times did I say that I’ll stop posting online and delete this site? I can count them no longer. I have written hundreds already anyways. What’s the use? I think, sometimes, it happens, this feeling of unworthiness. You would say, it will pass. It always does. If I were a painter, I would have torn a number of canvases already. Today is one of those days.

My Mind

my mind—
a mosaic
of cobwebs
tell me
if it’s art.

~ * ~

Tonight is Like the Other Nights

Neruda wrote when he
was sad: "Love is so short,
forgetting is so long."

Three years have passed
and yet, the moon
still paints
your shadow.

Drowning in green tea, the belleloved writes on Valentine's Day...

Once More

love suffers
from too much loving
that I vowed not to love
anymore

funny! said my heart
outsmarting me
as it keeps on
beating. . .

and beating

. . . and beating.

~ * ~

You See, I’m In Love With You!

I tried to write
about you
in rhyme and verse.

Indescribable.

So I just crooned
at the empty page
and let my heart
soar, hoping
you would
notice it.

~ * ~

Just To Let You Know (Tanka)

you raise my hair;
wipe a sweat glistening
on my skin as you whisper—
your neck looks
graceful as unicorn

~ * ~

Living

What difference does it make
pining for the lost sun
beneath your wistful and shadowed
dreams? Or living with nothing
to think about but the moment
more bearable than regret?

I see the day come
not a pretty one, I said.
So, I pause to hide
my painful scars.

I know, life is lovely
but why work so hard
to live it?

~ * ~

HAIKU

V-Day

Valentine’s day—
a pair of warm eyes
tangle with mine

~ * ~

Mesmerized

mesmerized—
on her hair, the breeze lingers
for a while

I was walking to work two days ago, and it was windy. This haiku is about me. :P I think, the breeze was in love with my hair. Harhar.

~ * ~

Rocking Chair

for a moment—
the rocking chair
sits still

Was supposed to submit this as an entry to a contest. There's a painting of a rocking chair amidst the gloomy and untidied room with only a ray of light coming from the window. One should write a haiku about it. I forgot to submit. Blech.

~ * ~

Light Race

a lamppost competes with the moon

Yay, my first ever one-liner haiku.

~ * ~

The Road Home

this familiar road—
thinking of you
one step at a time

My friend, James and I were texting last week on my way to work that I decided to text a random haiku to him. This was it.

Finally, I was looking for a file in my computer when I chanced upon the following old poems. I got a few old poems that I haven't posted here. Well, I decided to post these two:

Drifter

He wears a secret smile
and a grimy sweatshirt
that once smelled
of perfume
on his first date.

He checks his imaginary
watch, comb his hair
nervously
with his hands
just like the time
on his first date;
walks barefoot
in the park
wondering
why everything
looks
not the same.

Two years ago when I went home for vacation, children were laughing at this man in the town's plaza. My friend told me that the man has lost it cuz his gf married another man. I took pity on him cuz love has made him like that. Oh, love can be vicious too. As you can see, this poem was two years old already.

~ * ~

To Have You Back

the moment of estrangement
made me stand in silence
under the white moon
as she gathered her light
in a place where I pulled
you close and whispered love
that runs the length
of the sky.

Here I am
falling into the shadows
seeking your warmth
not much have been left.

I cling on to your memory
fading with the marvel
of your sigh
remembering you here
in a place where I pulled you close
the image suspended
stirring my soul
and still believing
you would return.

My friend Earll, asked me to write about his heartache. Hehe. This was a year ago, I think. Told him, I don't write by request but he was so persistent. He gave me some scenes to work on— a moonlit night. How lame. Haha. Jk. Anyways, this was not really good. But he liked it! :P

Oh Men!

Ah, my Heart. . .
you allow yourself to be inhaled
to penetrate your rocky reserve
be consumed by creatures
who are simply cheats.

Why not? Men speak
a sweeter language far better
than the midnight moon
and my breath is becoming a song.

They can make the pulse
from my throat
dance visibly
that my perfume leaps
from the valley of my breasts.

So what if my Heart is weak?

I can make them captives too.

I just wrote this and posted it right away. I may have some changes later. But it looks ok with me. Hope you like it especially the women. (lol) Ok, am gonna do my laundry. Toodles for now. :P

The belleloved is back after a long absence because of vacation. I received an invitation to join a Cinquain (5 lines with a meter of 2-4-6-8-2) poetry forum. And so, I decided to flood you with Cinquains this time. And there's a free-verse poem. The haiku and other poems shall be posted soon. Watch out. Thanks for those who has left comments here. That means, I was missed! Thank you for your support and appreciation. It inspires me. =)

CINQUAINS

Sunset

Sunset—
under my gaze
the distant shining curls
like halo gems; floats dreamlike on
my lap.

~ * ~

Blue Afternoon

Allow
me to inhale
the blue drifting clouds, the
scent of tears that I long to share
with you.

~ * ~

Letting Go is Not Really Letting it Go

I know
letting go may
leave the heart empty, but
the heart’s wise. It decides what it
would keep.

~ * ~

Touching

I am
writing in search
of beauty — it throbs at
the tips of my fingers where your
heart lays.

~ * ~

Though It’s Not Me

Tell me
how lovelier
she is, how prettier.
I’ll be wishing I am like her
for you.

~ * ~

One

What joy,
what beauty! Warmed
by your gaze, I breathe life—
together with falling stars, we
melted.

Destiny's Path

I did not sleep.

I can’t sleep tonight
so I opened my palm
traced its lines
to where your life crosses mine.

You can keep me up
for days. And when I’d finally
dream — it would be
your eyes.

~ * ~

HAIKU

In the Mist

in the mist
a pine tree pretends
to be a ghost

~ * ~

Midnight

midnight—
even the moon
an insomniac too

~ * ~

Tongue-tied

tongue-tied—
on my lips
the lilting sound
of your name

~ * ~

Clearing the Path

clearing the path
the sweep of the wind
on fallen leaves

~ * ~

I Wish to Tell You This

The other night, I saw stars
falling from a distance
and an image of you was formed
inside my mind.

You told me I am a poet
but I can’t even tell you how love
coils my ribcage
at the slightest sound
of your name against my tongue
or describe in detail
how love like this can make me crave
for letters.

If I would define love
it would be my words cocooned
on paper. Someday,

they would form wings, travel
into the silken sky

dive

free fall
at your feet.

When I Met You

The day I met you, the air was still bland
no flowers, no fragrance
no music. Then you spoke
with the gentleness of a smile
and one by one you plucked
solitude away
from this lifeless garden.

Tonight, I read you a Neruda poem
remembering how you paused at my side
in every stanza, creating a melody
in the complexity of silence.
Now, each word there grows
roses, daisies, lilacs, gardenias…

For you. For creating a miracle in my life.

If Only

If I could paint your heart
with ink that drips
between my fingers, I would—
beg for the warmth
of your eyes
scrawl your name
on the outline of my palm
but I want more than words
I want you to float
carve the breeze
into my breast
and tangle this poet’s song
into your own.

I am quite... inspired lately. Scary.

~ * ~

Drifting

drifting
to slumber—
falling leaves

~ * ~

Muse-less

balled papers
in wastebasket—
muse-less

~ * ~

The Old Man

easing his hold
upon old age,
the cane—
unused once more

~ * ~

The Spider

daybreak—
a dangling spider
struggles up

~ * ~

Ripple

tickling
the brooding lake—
a ripple

~ * ~

Betwen the Stones

between the stones
a lizard
peers shyly

~ * ~

The Gardener

shoveling
heaps of memories—
old gardener

By the way, I forgot to post this Announcement here in Short*Poetry itself. But it has already been posted in my Livejournal. It's about the publication of an anthology of haiku poems where yours truly is included. I hope you would support my first publication in print. :P

SAKURA

To buy it, just go to Paypal to place your order.
Please visit this page: SAKURA BOOK PAGE

~ * ~

SAKURA
"beautiful"
"soul stirring"
"each haiku a cherry blossom"

Haiku and color illustrations that'll touch your soul, afford you an intimate glimpse
into the spirit and soul of nature.

~ * ~

Announcement!

River Man Publishing House in Sweden
is pleased to announce
its newest book of haiku entitled,
SAKURA
an esthetic collection of haiku
by selected members of the online haiku community

Edited by Jörgen Johansson
and Robert D. Wilson
Cover Art by Susumu Takiguchi
Illustrated with beautiful colour images
by Robert D. Wilson
30 Poets/140+ haiku poems

Featuring the haiku of:

Etsuko Yanagibori
Robert D. Wilson
Jörgen Johansson
Michael Rehling
Hortensia Anderson
an´ya
Alan Mcgill
Lynne Steel
Erin Harte
Gillena Cox
Angele Lux
Belle Nabor
John Tiong Chunghoo
Connie Donleycutt
Tomislav Maretic
Ruzica Mokos
Rob Mestre
Ulf Mohager
Bruce Ross
Michael Paone
Peigi Swayhoover
Michael Evans
Kathy Lippard-Cobb
Jasminka Nadaskic Diordievic
Carole Macrury
Norman Darlington
Dennis Holmes
Florence Vilen
Susan C. Bolstad
Bette Wappner

SAKURA
personifies the spirit of haiku

Says Etsuko Yanagibori of Japan,
"Open the door to your haiku mind.
See the beautiful universe."

Purchase copies today for yourself, loved ones, friends, as a gift to a school or public library.

A steal at $14.00 USD, per book
includes postage and Air Mail!

HAIKU

(For those who have read this a few hours ago, I've made some small revision to "Moss.")

Fog

fog
draping
the dusk

This is my latest minimalist haiku written. Writing effective, minimalist haikus is always challenging in poetry forums of haiku.

~ * ~

Waves

sloshing
against the mountain
ocean waves

~ * ~

Bee

buzzing—
a bee
on the doorstep

~ * ~

Carvings

carved
on a tree trunk—
his only love

~ * ~

Moss

embracing
a stone—
the fragile moss

~ * ~

Fireworks

fireworks—
a blind girl’s
enraptured face

Guess what. I have now a Livejournal account: http://www.livejournal.com/users/belleloved/. Without Grace's help in finding me a code, it wouldn't be possible. And Selina, who came to the rescue has given me a code for me to open an account. Grateful to these talented girls for all the trouble in helping me from setting up to configuring the lay-out of my journal. =)

HAIKU

Candle

she blows a candle
and the darkness
s c a t t e r s

~ * ~

Bread Crumbs

bread crumbs—
only a few ants
are invited

~ * ~

Morning Rush

morning rush
and my café au lait
a bookshop opens

~ * ~

At First Sight

I shook his hand
but the hipster jeans
had his attention

~ * ~

Hot-bulb

hot bulb—
moth-wings
dancing

~ * ~

Brothel Woman

You told me about tequila
and red lips painting the rim
of your glass; bare, pale bodice
and sloping breasts
where eyes glued and discontented men
visit more often.

You thought you could
leave soon, but you miscalculated
once you fled
but become more hunted
and you let yourself
be bought again, free from scathing eyes
near scores of men swooning
over your scent in bedchambers.

Ah, you have immortalized Jezebel
as you uttered, “come between my thighs.”

For the woman I’ve interviewed having the reddish lips I’ve seen.

~ * ~

Train Ride (Tanka)

I only remember the face
the way he inclines his head
as I pass by
then the crowd consume me
pressing my breath tighter.

I tried the MRT ride before. Being claustrophobic, I almost fainted. Saw a cute guy at the same time and I lost him from the crowd. My heart beating fast, I could tell it’s almost like Serendipity. (lol) I’m sure you know the correlation of riding a jampacked train to encountering somebody you are attracted to – breathless!. :P

~ * ~

Tenacity

I’ve mastered the art
of letting go
testified in front of women
who survived the atrocities of love
I never claimed
to be mangled and bleeding
I licked the blood seeping
from my eyes; I’ve humbled my lover!

I ripped off fragility’s robe.

Finally, the semester is over. I still have more than 10 papers to submit until November. I asked for an extension of my requirements. I finished our group's paper last Friday and to celebrate the end of the semester and the alleviated pressure in writing my papers, I slept the whole weekend.

I'm now trying to regain my momentum in poetry writing. Been out of the loop for so long, I need to be inspired again. :P I won't be enrolling this November (2nd semester) to enable me to finish my incomplete papers. Work will be overwhelming this second semester, hence, need to rest from studying for a while. Hope to check/visit all your blogs/sites and to see what all of you have been up to. :P Gimme a week to do that. And the muse must come back and visit me again too.

Can't believe I've been away for almost a month! Been busy -- still am. There have been requests for new haikus. Thanks for that. It means I'm being missed. :P I'm happy to oblige today before September ends because of one good reason: September (26 to be exact) marks the 1st anniversary of my Short*Poetry blog.

My haiku hobby is doing well. Been published in an haiku journal and was invited to submit 8 from my collection of haikus for inclusion in an haiku book anthology together with other great haiku poets whom I greatly admire. Honestly, it's an honor to be included in that book. I would never forget it for the rest of my life. Can't provide everyone of you with a complimentary copy, I'm not that rich, just a struggling employee and student. Contact me if you wish to buy. =) I also submitted entries in two world haiku competitions. The results will be announced in November of this year and the other in February next year. If I win, well and good, if not, then, I'll try again, right? =) To all of you, thanks for appreciating my art. Without your support, I wouldn't have the courage and confidence to showcase my haikus. Doomo Arigatou!

Water Lily

stretching
on a calm lake
a water lily

~ * ~

Bee Wanted

inside my room
a bee and I
plays hide and seek

~ * ~

Shade

pursued by the sun
the laborers
under a tree

~ * ~

Even Tide

even tide—
the murmur
of sleepy waters

~ * ~

Well-lighted Prison

a well-lighted prison—
this firefly
inside a bottle

~ * ~

One Sweet Day

one sweet day
a swarm of bees
at a garden wedding

~ * ~

Coloring Book

back to the time
when snakes were red—
my coloring book

~ * ~

Blooming

prodded by the sun
the rosebud utters
“hello world!”

~ * ~

Moisture

suspended in the rays
of a street lamp—
drops of rain

Special thanks for the following people in my links for sending me messages during my absence. You're all so sweet. Hugs to Grace. If she's not that young compared to me, I would have said, I wanna be like her when I grow up. She writes so well even at a very young age. =) Thank you too to Ash, Ate Sienna, Mia, Monzky, Van (my pretty Brazilian friend), Debbie who'll get married soon, Neil, and most of all to the lovely wife/husband tandem, Jet and Jay. Love you! Also to my classmate, Aye. =) I could never forget Celia and Ryan. *waves to both of them* Of course to a number of PostPoems poets who visit my site and to the rest whom I haven't known but are dropping by from time to time, thank you. Before this will sound like an Oscar-winning speech, I must go study for my finals. It's on Wednesday and Saturday! Has a counseling demo on Wednesday too. Yay. I'm scared. =)

Written... Unseen... Unnoticed

One may not always see
the hand touching the bare
arms of this poem
or hear the serrated misery
in the sound of leaves crushing
against the asphalt road.

Everything else
is obscured
unless you let one listen
to the sound of wind
and how one beholds it

with nothing there.

~ * ~

Blind Follower? (Haiku)

sensing the path
leads to nowhere, the ant
changes lanes

~ * ~

"Sometimes, I don’t understand you,"

he said to her. "But does it matter?
No," he answered himself as he looks
at her through a certain slant of light.

From where they stand
the sunset gleams softly
defining love
to those who would listen.

I can tell why their eyes

are melting.

~ * ~

Broken... Beautiful (Tanka)

asking what was left
from the beauty
of this broken glass
when suddenly it catches light
then a burst of stars!

~ * ~

The Red Planet (Haiku)

Mars,
why are you
blushing?

~ * ~

Mars-Gazing (Haiku)

neck cramps—
only the barking dog and I
stay up with Mars

One more month and the semester will be over. Whew! September is a crucial month for all my school requirements to be finished. Work and school, work and school... work and school, work and school... I need a vacation.

More haiku treats! Haikus, "Snail" and "Rainy Day" will be submitted for publication.

Snail

tired of seeing
the world, the snail—
a recluse again

~ * ~

Rainy Day

rainy day—
a mushroom
shelters a worm

~ * ~

Swimming

swimming
in the driver’s weary eyes—
the flow of traffic

~ * ~

Puppies

from a puppy to its buddy—
playing with this
little bone

~ * ~

Sentinel

following a trail home
the moon
walks with me too

HAIKU

Butterfly

I can hear
its breath,
a butterfly resting

~ * ~

Life

life—
a dance
of a leaf falling

~ * ~

Lost Memories

searching for lost memories
I long
for another time

My Butterfly, Life and Lost Memories haikus were written for one of our co-members in a poetry club whose father died recently. Everyone of us should write an haiku in connection with the passing away of his father. Hence, said haikus were written.

~ * ~

Raindrop

window—
after the storm
a raindrop slides
drying itself

TANKA

A Poet’s Touch

your words
or is it that song I love
softly playing
all senses tuned
touching me?

~ * ~

Erasing Melancholy

and then sunrise—
he tries to remember
the grey smoke swirling
vision on tired eyelids

he rubs it off.

Hey everyone. Still busy. I just need to post these poems. The above tankas first appeared in one of my linked friends. Sometimes, poems that I have written correspond to the thought I read on other blogs, hence, I usually append them as a comment. Hope you like them. Bye for now.

There is something about the moon that enchants a poet's or a writer's mind. In reverence to it, here are my moon haikus:

Moon-Viewing

open window—
the night
releases the moon

~ * ~

Floating Beauty

canoe-shaped moon
tonight, your beauty
floats

~ * ~

Moonbeams

moonbeams
leading
our paths

~ * ~

Passing Cloud

passing cloud
for a moment—darkness
from the moon.

Won't be around for some time because of my busy work/school activities. Now, stop staring at me. :P Go, look at the moon if you have it tonight. For once, give yourself a chance, and allow yourself to be swallowed by its magic.

The Birth of My Haiku (Tanka)

from the rustle of palm leaves
my haiku are born
twig by twig, they fall
finding their places
twitching; mute with ardor.

Went home early from work yesterday because of my fever. So what did I do? Slept, ate, slept some more, and wrote some haikus which would become a few of my favorites. I hope I would be able to attend my class tonight.

Between Them

between the moon
and a star—
their distance

~ * ~

Surf sound

surf sound—
the uncoiling
of a troubled sea

~ * ~

Moth

moth
when will you learn
about life?

The Model (Cinquain)

painter,
teach me how to
appreciate this body
and I’d sit naked admiring
your brush.

HAIKU

Inside a Train

inside a train
the city
moves faster too

~ * ~

Hungry Frog

hungry frog—
the faint sound
of a buzzing fly

~ * ~

Caterpillar

wind—
a caterpillar huddles closer
to the leaf

~ * ~

Warm Gaze

warming our gazes
the steam
from our coffee mugs

Was supposed to post 2 haikus last August 2. Why two? Because last August 2 was my birthday, and because I got 2 surprises before my birthday: (1) some of my haikus will be published worldwide in an haiku journal (at last!) and (2) my Lost Poetry poem was nominated for an award. However, I got caught up with activities. So, I present here more than 2 poems instead. Enjoy!

HAIKU

Sleepy

drooping eyelids
the moon
looks smaller now

~ * ~

Crossing the Mirror

crossing the mirror,
the gait
of a confused ant

~ * ~

Ocean View

beyond my gaze
she points to a disappearing ship

~ * ~

Wind

wind —
from a branch
a leaf hangs precariously

~ * ~

Church Hymnal

church hymnal
my seatmate sings
only half the note

~ * ~

Thoughts

lying on my back
my thoughts rotate
with the ceiling fan.

I thought of posting only one (1) haiku from time to time so that those who read it can ponder about it thoroughly instead of reading too many haikus all at once. However, I really have no idea what the readers want. For all I know, there may only be a few out of the number of people who visits this site, who really appreciate poetry. E'en then, for the number of blogs and reading sites online, I still thank God for my poetry.

Ripple (Haiku)

on the lake
a ripple
spreads

~ * ~

Burying (Tanka)

the box from the attic
was full of letters, faded ink
those soulless papers — haunting
it wasn’t that easy
putting him to rest.

~ * ~

Fragrance (Tanka)

scented pathway
he said, my skin glistens
soft lilac petals
wafting
through the gardens.

I don't really have time to write poems but I might as well write a few to go with the change of my lay-out. I want this site to be very simple and free of graphics and/or striking colors. You'll see only words here... just words.

HAIKU PARADE

Behold!

behold!
the blue tides
breathing.

~ * ~

A Snail

a snail
runs
in an eddy.

~ * ~

Softened by Rain

softened by rain
this sand
a bed for crustaceans.

~ * ~

Marching Soldiers

sensing danger
the ant turns around
bumping into its comrade.

~ * ~

Solar Eclipse

solar eclipse,
the man thinks
I’ve winked at him.

TANKA EXHIBITS

Changes

last year’s clothes
have shrunk, bursting seams
so this is how to grow up
wearing tight
shorter skirts.

~ * ~

Departure

she walks
steady now
in languid daylight
counting his strides till
he reaches the door.

~ * ~

A Great Writer Is Like A Commodity

your words are like silk
sought by merchants
their fingers run over your flowing
softness, all praises
for your quality.

Haikus need not be titled. I just need to distinguish it from each other, hence the titles. If am lost for one, titling haiku by its first line is ok. A friend asked me yesterday how to write haikus. I replied, it is simple. Pay attention to nature and to the little details around you. I may be gone for a while hence, the number of entries today. Need to read and research and study for my report in two subjects. Ja ne! Gambatte kudasai. Hai, Nihongo o benkyoshimashita. Hehehe, sukoshi. :P

Entertaining Failure

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. (Eleanor Roosevelt)

Failure won’t stay longer
unless—
you ask him
to sit down; offer some
tea and invite him
to spend the night,

he won’t leave early.

~ * ~

Labor of Love

I used to glue little stars
on paper; write my name
just below the words, “I love you”
sending them to people
I care. They accept it and pretend
how much they understand about love
their glances slide past the card
vowing to keep it
for as long as the stillness
of the drawer gathers dust.

But they haven’t touched love
because the love I made was embedded
at the back of the stars
where the glue and the paper
have connected.

~ * ~

Dewdrops

a leaf
speaks to the dewdrops,
“will you stop spitting?”

~ * ~

Love's Reflection

oh love,
I dream of mirrors

and your eyes.

HAIKU
To appreciate an haiku, take time to FEEL and VISUALIZE the moment. Be very aware of the emotion it conveys. A good haiku, as much as possible, should be short enough to read in one breath (no forced meter or rhythm but should flow naturally) that it captures an experience effectively well.

Deep is the Night

starless –
a firefly floats.

My most minimal haiku written and submitted in HaikuHut.

~ * ~

Wet Soil

wet soil –
a limping worm
passes.

~ * ~

Constellation

tracing the sky
through her window
the stars convene.

~ * ~

Alms

a homeless man –
I wrote a poem
on his outstretched palm.

Though it is not advisable to give alms always, it feels good to be able to see a happy grin in exchange for that. For me, it’s like writing a poem that I feel alive upon its completion.

~ * ~

Soul-rending

it was twilight
when she plucked the guitar,
her trembling sighs.

~ * ~

Calling

telephone wires –
your voice
where distance dwells.

~ * ~

First Kiss

the first time
I’ve met your lips,
the skill of your tongue.

Sensual, isn’t it? Eeek, am blushing. (lol)

~ * ~

Touching (A Tanka)

gentle
like the breeze’s fingertips
touching my face,
the rainbow
of your breath.

Sting (A Cinquain)

nothing
can be happy
like the ants, creatures with
directions, yet – meaningless with
my toes.

~ * ~

Another Chance At Life

when Death visited,
I created a mask to hide my face
from the ravages of grief;

I decided to invite him
for a poetry reading; made him
realized that Dust won’t keep my words
longer for my ashes
to burn with the tip of my pen.

when he departed
postponing his claim, I was left
preparing for the written
words that say: “another life
is beyond to live.”

The story of my childhood fears. I am scared of death. When I was still small, I was so sickly that I have been aided by oxygen tanks (?) for me to breathe well. They thought, I couldn’t make it. Even at a young age, I dreamed of becoming a writer. Glad for another chance at life. Am still making the most of it. It would be inevitable that we would face death in the end. Never mind, there would be another life for us to live. :)

~ * ~

Even Squall (A Cinquain)

Racing
the clouds for a
moment, the storm moves north.
The moon watches the torrents – sky
breaks free.

Jaded (A Tanka)

You! my heartbreaker
making me believe about
ever after. Nah –
I wouldn’t keep mementos
nor save the smell of your shirt.

The last line of this tanka makes me smile. I have heard about stories that some women really keep the shirts of their ex-bfs. Tsk, tsk. I’d say, men like that are not worth it. :P

~ * ~

Courtship (A Tanka)

finding the voice across the full
moon’s gaze; shyly stilling time,
he translates his love
from a language
she does not speak.

Japanese Tanka is a form of short poetry that traditionally contain a meter of 5-7-5-7-7. However, the English tanka, the same thing with that of haiku (5-7-5), meter may or may not be followed because of the difference in language.

HAIKU

Waiting

tonight, the palest moon
I can’t sleep
alone.

~ * ~

Between Them

his silence –
measuring
her lies.

~ * ~

In The Darkness

in the darkness
gleaming,
the outline of his smile.

Floating

Sir Violinist,
I wonder why you can easily
coil your strings
round my breath; lick the shape
of my throat parched
of melody
that I cling on the notes
like a jealous lover
smacked
with enchantment.

I attended a party and there’s this special number – a violinist stood up and performed a rousing performance that I was enthralled and speechless until the last note faded.

A Soldier’s Epitaph (A Cinquain)

Carved in
stone, your name hides
broken bones. No parades.
Only tears that recall youth and
courage.

Song of the Night (A Cinquain)

I want
to become your
pillow, soft like white clouds.
I’ll gather you closer; enter
your dreams.

~ * ~

Metaphorically Speaking (Haiku)

Mr. Poet,
what madness drove you to believe
you can hold the stars?

~ * ~

Rice (Haiku)

wedding day –
the abundance of grains
on her hair.

~ * ~

Little Leaf (Haiku)

little leaf,
what made you tremble
without the wind?

~ * ~

Cabowabo

tequila master,
your essence drips through
my veins like the pensive notes
of a saxophone.

come caress this tongue
upon your cool flowing
entry, leave traces on my lips;
life became that buzzing in my head
the taste of longing.

For a visitor of my site who requested me to write a poem about Cabowabo tequila. His life is run by Cabowabo and he calls himself, Drunk Guy. :P I don't usually write by request but I remember my first ever taste of liquor last January and that's tequila Jose Cuervo Gold. So there.

The Story That Was
(revised)

many moons ago, I acquired
the habit of writing to you;
everyday, sweet, unrelenting
vows of keeping in touch.

you stopped writing
my verses –
wasted on many
lines you don’t recite;
this estrangement of unrhymed
words, paper and ink
what metaphors
need to be forgotten?

surely, I won’t weep
over your name, but would trace
tell-tale signs of poems
on an empty heaven.

A poet’s failed love affair.

Cold (A Cinquain)

I know
indifference
its shroud enwraps your eyes.
Your glance rests at me. Ice become
warmer.

~ * ~

Crush (A Cinquain)

your name
electrifies
my tongue, current running
down my heart in a wild race, sparks
trembling.

Why I Turned To Writing

I’ve seen artists
they draw, sculpt and paint
in a whirlpool of flamboyance.
'twas in my third grade
when my inability to fold paper to make
origami, became my lot;
I was told to be attentive to details
let the lead of my pencil crush
into solid paper, sketches of mountains
beside colored mushrooms, the erasures
a testament of my weakness.

I splatter colors to create
a mosaic. Not good enough.

I've observed artists
the concept, the image of them
like ochre smeared on a canvas
and ivory figures
flashing
I am drawn to their light;
they brew words upon my mouth
mixing them with beauty. I sip slowly
the flavor of awe; scent clinging
on my awkward hands.

Dance

the breath of her shoes
was thumping
through soils

dust
it hangs suspended between the moon
and your name
there is music, she waltzed
with the stars and the wind

rattles
forming a ritual
she circles,

slowly now

with you, this moment –
gripped with passion.

“Ain’t It Funny” is one of my favorite music videos of Jennifer Lopez. That video was inspired by this poem. You should see her sensual moves on said video. :P I love dancing to the music of J. Lo, and also that of Shakira. The line breaks were done so it could be read with rhythm too.

Inspiration

Somewhere on my empty page
was your name written
in indelible ink
the shape of
my heart.
As I
was about to show it to you
you caught it and told
me to cut a hole in
the center so I
could find
the words
I need.

I’ve never written about love for quite a while now. This is for those who take inspiration when in love. I take inspiration on simple thoughts of love. :P

CINQUAINS
(A form of short poetry that consists of five lines with a meter of 2-4-6-8-2)

Crumbling

the sea
a monument
of my vast dreams, nothing
but sandcastles; as the tides creep –
I break.

~ * ~

One Carefree Day

walking,
the sky opened
we ran to seek shelter
from the brewing storm. Drenched, we were
laughing.

The haiku-ing never stops. Nor will ever be... Not until I'm a member of HaikuHut family and posting in HaikuHut Forums.

Sh*t Happens

one more step,
a snail
on a dunghill.

~ * ~

Determination

a moment
of fear,
courage.

~ * ~

Sunset Blues

shrinking too,
I embrace
the sun.

~ * ~

The Mute

silence –
on your moving
lips.

Journeys (A Haiku)

postcards –
memories
on photographs.

~ * ~

Ponderings (A Cinquain)

holding
a book one night,
I open dreams lightly
and the moon watches me wishing
alone.

~ * ~

Making Colors (A Cinquain)

your touch
colors me pink
caught in my breath, whispers
that tickle my ears. I quiver
and blush.

River – Revisited

At the river’s bend—
noises that could have been music
on a ten-stringed instrument
as we step on stones
sculpted with the symmetry
of our youth. We gather them closer
into our hearts, they throb with life
each one of us remembers.
We throw them one by one
creating ripples, then slap our backs
with pride, the currents slowly
cascading

until at last we resurface
from the lure of those full-blown memories
almost with reluctance.

As some of you already knows, I have this affinity with a river in my grandfather’s place. Spent a portion of my childhood there and everytime I come back, I would run to check on that river to remember and cry in sentimental journey.

Slipping Away (A Cinquain)

music,
a voice pauses
as hollowness deepens
like your memories. it rises
then fades.

A cinquain is a form of short poetry that has five lines with syllable count of 2-4-6-8-2.

Fire’s Illusion

shadows
in the flickers
of a bonfire.

~ * ~

Change of Heart

falling stars,
not the same wishes
anymore.

~ * ~

Eloped!

full moon,
the night
we ran away.

~ * ~

Breaking Up

walking away,
the fading sound
of his boots.

Overflow

a leaf
chasing the currents
of a flooded river.

The story behind this haiku will be included in my haibun. My haibuns can be read in my other journal.

Tattoo

only memories,
your name
on my flesh.

~ * ~

Moonlit Walk

moonbeams
draping
our path.

~ * ~

Daddy’s Baby Girl

swallowing
the lump in his throat,
her beauty.

The readers may be wondering why suddenly there’s a deluge of haikus lately. Remember when I said before that whatever I write here do not necessarily imply about me? I am in the process of a very exciting project and this will be all about me. This may sound enormous and will take a lot of hardwork but due to encouragements received from a poet in HaikuHut.net, the poetry forum of HaikuHut (home of short stuff), the same poet who wrote a book with that kind of poetry form, I am entertaining the idea of doing the same. It is a combination of prose and poetry. The form is called a HAIBUN. Google it to learn more. It's amazing when somebody believes in you and receiving those encouragements. See my other journal to read my haibuns.

View

clouds
near my window
flight 325.

~ * ~

Police Officer

I,
stopping for a ticket
his flaring nostrils.

~ * ~

Gymnast

like a bamboo
bending,
without bones.

~ * ~

Hem and Haw

I once asked,
do you love me?
your feet shuffled.

This is a revised haiku that I wrote before.

Lost Poetry

I’d like to find the poem
that made me write poetry
the one that rings about love.

I must have lost it somewhere
when harmony and rhyme deprived me.

I listened to it sometime ago,
without knowing where it came from
but is present
in all things unknown.

Now, I gather the words
of what was left, and braid them
into lines of remembrance.

~ * ~

Homecoming

the smell of ocean
not far away,
home.

~ * ~

Wrinkles Don’t Matter

eighty,
my grandma
aging gracefully.

~ * ~

Nightclubs

passing
along Quezon Avenue,
the night awakes.

Going home to my former boarding house, I always pass by Quezon Avenue before. As you Filipinos are aware, Quezon Ave. is a place where you can find lots of nightclub establishments. The lights from them are very bright at night.

Solemnity

at the confessional
a silkscarf falls
unnoticed

The Farmer’s Dwelling

old house,
a potted plant
in pieces

Looming Typhoon

walking home
the wind plays...
avalanche of leaves.

At The Park

sitting on the bench
a brown leaf
on my hair

At A City Sidewalk

feast for stray dogs
a turned over trash can

At The Porch

crescent-shaped moon
the sparkle
of father's pipe

If I don't have new ones posted, it would would mean, I'm showcasing my previous and present works at the esteemed Poetry Forum of HaikuHut and other sites. It's either that or sometimes ideas become dry. I'm starting to make my poems be noticed in the circle of poets. It's good, so far. :)

Sunset Beach

Melancholy
engraves the shoreline,
it warbles
blue notes
where your ears can
only hear,
I watch you
sitting
pressed on this sand
smooth
tears resting
at your feet
till you find
yourself
hardened,
an epitaph
to pain.

At sunset,
the colors
of blood,
flame
you run free, yearning
to change
the breeze
into a song.

I’m crazy about sunsets. Take me to the beach to see her…

From The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (I love this story sooo much!)

“Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your sad life… For a long time you had found your only entertainment in the quiet pleasure of looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me: “I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now.”

“You know – one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..”

THE RETURN OF THE HAIKU

Island View

bobbing
over blue waters—
distant boat

Danish@Cookies

surfing the internet
chocolate chips
on my keyboard

Running for Shelter

puddles on my feet
the rain
decides to stop

Lovely Night

moonbeams travel
like flashlights
lovers under a tree

One Afternoon

over the sky
where the clouds form—
an airplane’s wing

I think I'm getting famous. Before, I discovered that somebody stole my moniker on the net which is "belleloved." Her journal's name is Belleloved. I forgave her but it still rankles me, you know. I love that name so much and it has become me! Last few days, I learned that somebody had copied my two short poems, word for word and claimed them as their own.

Afraid To Break

you are the dust on the graveled road
as I travel returning home
where once I journey toward you.
I say I am lonely, proclaiming the color
of my day on pallid skin,
it magnifies in the landscape, patches of weeds
which grow unattended to;
palm leaves sweeping the blue
shades of images buzzing
inside my head,
as I grow accustomed to gazing
at peeling paints on billboards which once
implied of life.

I'd say, the songs of the winds are gone,
replaced by whimpers of grasses
in the long hours of summer.

A Game Of Solitaire

I called home thinking
of both Papa and his deck of cards
and how Solitaire became a part of his life.
I used to sit beside him
my small chin jutting, curious
to learn more.

He said in every game, a wish – his wish is uttered.
I wouldn’t know of it
when at that time, I saw the world
in hoola-hoops and cotton candies.

the Solitaire of his dream, Papa had kept it
in his chest, cocooned between his fingertips,
I would learn of loss.

Mama has never come home.

a wish may have been lost
but never will my Papa’s spirits
nor my gift of cards.

I posted it here before. But this baby has undergone lotsa revisions (the only poem I can't seem to finish) and is now back. For my father. He loves playing Solitaire. I learned it from him when I was small. Right now, I supply the cards… he supplies the smiles.

Adoration

As I sought the secret places
of dreamlike existence,
a man offered me his hand
his eyes – moon or stars, I am smitten
like a child. I brushed his lips
with mine, twirled,
then danced over flame.

Paradise In A Corner

I gathered the details of a sidewalk pass
people moving in opposite directions
scattered candy wrappers and cigarette butts
the sculpture of the cracked pavement—
a passageways for ants.
These were the things I remember, these and the warm
filters of sunlight, the picture of which were never
captured by a lone soulful musician.
No one steps in his little Mecca of cardboard boxes
flattened to make a makeshift bed at night.
He has this precise way of strumming
his guitar, singing duets with every passing whoosh
of skirts and pants. He sits there
as the strings whistle their way from his fingers
to the loud clanging of coins engraved
with faces of heroes and great men.
Their images help secure an emaciated hope—

a hope thrown in by his well-dressed gods
as their blind morsel of compassion.

For Jet who religiously frequents this site. Also to my long time loyal reader, cbs. Dunno why they love my poems. Even if am busy, I try to write here for you to read. Actually, am really pressured cuz Jet says, she's checking this everyday. Aww, Jet! (lol) Give me time to work on my papers! :P Of course, also to those who stops by here from time to time, thanks for checking on me always.