Untitled because it should be

I met the most beautiful woman in the world
inside memory just beyond the reach of dreaming
it was near waking
and just at the edges of reality

She was beautiful like the night
the essence of mystery in her eyes,
the soft glow of moonbeams
shines on her radiant face

She gracefully walks
like dancing stars
upon a wavy cloud

Ahh, she was beautiful
like beauty rested upon her face
and never left

Come, and stay awhile
I said
She smiled and lingered awhile

moments passed like they do in dreams
and even dreams have their waking

"I must leave" she said
I nodded my head and watched as she walked away

drops of moonbeams shine and are lost in the drops of forever
Is she a shard of moonlight that will shine awhile?

"Can I live in your smile
and hold your hand forever?" I cried

she smiled and glanced back at me
and lived in my unfinished verse of poetry

I've always believed that the best time to write something is when the moment is still fresh. If one postpones it for too long, the picture of the moment tends to get a little blury, the emotion stales a bit. I know because right now I want to blog but I don't know what I want to write about. There are two things that stand out as of the moment though, one is that I'm pretty homesick: I miss home, my family and friends and everything that is familiar and the other is that work is pretty tough: I feel pressured, the work environment is different and I have to readjust my work ethic. For these two things, it is encouraging that I'm feeling a lot better than when I first got here. Had I blogged about these things earlier then there would have been a lot of rants. The emotions reflected in what I wrote would have been more raw. Right now, I still feel homesick and I still feel like I need to do a lot of adjustment in work but other than saying those two I don't thing I can say anything more.
Oh well, I think the moment for poignant speech has passed me by. When I do get that writer's itch again, I'll write some more.

My Life so far (My 26th year)

I was seven or eight or nine or ten
and I remember the wide green fields of palay
just before harvest time
spread out like great patches of vibrant bermuda grass

I remember the fields drying during summertime
The once green fields
turn into cracked patches of earth with zigzag lines
like spider webs
covered with silver stalks of harvested palay

I remember the now old school with the lonely benches,
marble floors with red tiles, bougainvillas,
cold mobile flagpoles, and steel fenced gardens

I remember the now small city, where everything is near;
everything is quaint and I know it so well

I remember leaving,
It was hard but I left anyway.
The lonely boat rides, going home
and leaving again.

I remember the loneliness going away
and settling in the new life that waited for me

I remember meeting new people and
growing into friendships

I remember experiencing life like I've never experienced before

I remember talking, praying and dancing before God.

I remember holding back the tears when my studies ended.

I remember the tiring walks and bus rides when I was looking for work.

I remember being fit and proud of my body

I remember getting chubbier and promising to myself that I will get thinner

I remember being confident in who I am and what I can do.

I remember the sleepless nights in law school,
the agony of lousy recitations and exams,
and the joys of a good one.

I remember being honest

I remember being finally good at work and being very good at what I do.

I remember falling in love with all the smiles and tears that it brings

I remember love slipping away from me and I can't do anything about it.

I remember travelling to the other side of the world and living a dream,

I remember waiting for love to come.

I remember where I am right now.

I remember you.

I remember my life so far.

Life Goes On

Thump Thump
the Ball went

Swish Swish
the Net swished

Thud Thud
Footsteps passed

Thundering Roars
of Joy
drowning the cry
of a thousand tears

It fades
Stillness comes
to again wait
for tomorrow

Twilight

The sky has dimmed,
the buildings have offered their vibrant walls
for the sleepy shades of grey
Office corners and pantry nooks
are now fading, waiting for the lights
of the evening
to give them shape again
Evening's man made lights
will be here soon
Shapes -- fade now and let the gray turn to dark
Twilight is nigh

Twilight is nigh
What have I done with my day?

My work is settled, as I would like to believe
My report is in the draft
waiting for the send button to be clicked

I remember twilight
I saw it coming
when the day was young
I knew it would come

I had seen its pictures
My grandfather showed me
Sepia photographs
Fading at the sides
And the whites from
the edges
Slowly eating
the brown and the yellow
and the pictures
of my young grandpa
have been tainted by
the spider web path
of the white's eaten trail

I remember the stories
from my uncle's college days
How the city was small
and everyone was in speaking terms
With the local DJ
He was famous
and got a free ride every time he rode
the pedicab

I remember twilight
The pictures, the stories
I smiled
The smile
found in late afternoons
and in my mother's stories
Twilight was warm
Twilight was idyllic
Twilight was looking back

The day has ended
and the day is full.
I thought.
It was not twilight then.

The day has not yet ended
Yet, I am on my way to the afternoon
and the thought
of getting there
marks the start
of a sadness
found in looking
at the fading
scenery of
a beautiful vacation spot
you know
you're never going
to visit again
or the emptiness
you feel
when you look at
the fading silhouette
of a friend as
he walks away
knowing
that the
goodbyes
you exchanged
would be the
last words you spoke to each other

Captivated

If I were turned to stone
And be made to choose
one sight
to view
for all eternity
I would choose
your face
Smiling
at me

I have seen
the depths
of eternity
In
Your eyes and lips
Unending
Serene
I drown
yet I live

If I have that with me
The passage
of time
Is like a passing second
Embedded in forever
For I will always be
Captivated by your smile

I wrote poetry

I found a small mole
In the palm of my right hand
Near the center
Slightly at the lower left

I thought it was dirt
Or mud or something like that

I had to climb out the bathroom through the narrow window
Because the lock broke
And the passageway was thick with fine dust

My hands were filled with dirt
Or mud or something like that

The dirt was the mole
I thought It was real
I scratched
And licked
Boy was it real

It was not dirt
Or mud or something like that

It was a profound experience
Like looking at a star filled sky
All alone in a green field with your feet immersed in water
And to make it truly profound
I wrote poetry

Not about dirt
Or mud or something like that

The morning after

The sun never had the chance to emit black light
There's no such thing

even if i wait, I turn to dust
I would always only get the light of day

I'm not waiting for it
But it is dark

I'm waiting for the sun
And there is no such thing as black light