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The poet's job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep, so important,
and yet so difficult to name, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way that people cannot live without it.
--Jane Kenyon, "A Hundred White Daffodils"
AFTER ALL THESE YEARS
i touch you as you faintly smile at me
and with the stroke of a finger, i touch your hair
and you ease yourself closer
to my side
the beaconing call of the night
gladly swallows the noise made by crickets
that seem to want to disturb our chance
in making a dream come true
but the enormous sigh that you let out
wakes up the thrill of simply trying to conjure
things that we enjoy doing
watching you, watching me--
just us.
(aug. 20, 1999)
AFTERGLOW
the whispers bounced back as i smiled again
without parting my lips
and with open arms i invited the dream
that escalated the non-existent primal fear
of losing the ambivalence of the present
and the feeling that somehow blitzed through
ambiguous phrases and winks.
smelling the sweetness of the air
enveloped by the feeling of worth and love
i can conquer the idea that man is never alone
even in solitude--
but i can still wish on a star a glorious presence
despite the unwilling force of an instant smile,
caressed by the gentle embrace
of the western wind.
not knowing if the past is still there
i thought of the heavenly wishes
and the glorious memories of mankind’s past--
the gentle touch on unruly hairs, the soft touch,
the unequaled hugs delivered in staccato gestures
as if someone’s really there until i found out it's just...
an afterglow.
(feb. 21, 1999)
ALONE AGAIN
at home, wondering if i was
just another splinter of your pain embedded
into my own
too bewitched by the illusion
of being part of your cathartic visions
still...
craving for the littlest sound
even that of a broken guitar
still aching for healing
for reparation
eager to make music
wishing to find out if even in my loneliness
i still wouldn't be so alone
because my dream was still alive
and you were still there.
(feb. 4, 2000)
ANOTHER DAY
tomorrow envelopes tyranny
and with the notoriety of the
honest truth
it is desired that the unanimous
decision will be in harmony
with peace.
prior adjustments to a mood
or character
can never justify the authority
of man
when the deeds are morally wrong
and destructive.
treat everyone like yourself,
justify a cause
and build a character
to last a lifetime and a day--
rejuvenate and rejoice:
it's your life, live it well.
(nov. 1995)
ANOTHER TINTED WISH
on eagle's wings i fly away
into the vanishing horizon now painfully painted
by splashing waves
unjustly called upon to recognize a faint cry
widowed by the will of vestal virgins
untoppled by tangential woes
and seemingly errational ebbs and flows.
the dream.
the vision.
the poignant touch, however distant
simply amazes the soul upon disposal
of things that never were
but are.
the agreement of the blind almost annulled
into the submission of a warm winter
as a summer wish crumbles off the structure
painstakingly nurtured as the sun rose
that july... when it was the best of times.
dark clouds suddenly appear
whenever your voice let grow a faint smile
and as whispers in the dark uproot the feathers
of geese flying off the cape
as corals glisten once more
to signal a love unspoken of.
i thought of christmas in july
as the "boss" reappeared to summon
the prodigal season to last but a few more months
but only to gather moss from a lost tribe,
unwanted by ancient trees
but craved for by tinted wishes.
what is christmas without a wish?
(dec. 16, 1997)
APROPOS
a tough choice it was indeed
as i benevolently whizzed by the silver screen
with ribbons and bows scattered like sand,
they came and i saw echoes of bliss and ecstasy
enveloped by liquid crystals
thrown at random but rarely caught.
and there it was--a glow in the dark--
seemingly pinned down as if trying to convey
a message only the keen-eyed would notice
but as the winds of change softly whispered
words of wisdom i stood in disbelief
as she came running to meet me.
shrugging my shoulders, i ran to meet her
in a crystal blue persuasion
longing for nothing but a tap or a wink,
or at least a faint gesture not from a magic wand
but from a desolate world of make-believe
as i thought it was... apropos.
(dec. 11, 1997)
AQUARIUS
your gentle greeting came
just in time
as i scanned the horizon,
smiling with glittering sequins
and specks of moondust
left untouched, undone.
as words echoed in silence
you caressed the wind
as it gently puffed a whiff of fresh air
in connivance with woes of fear,
diminishing the throngs of silence
subtly so.
you came,
and i was there
you came,
and i was still there
but who would really care if you and me
would last that long?
(aug. 16, 1997)
BACK TO THE TUNNEL
i turned my head around
and i saw a shadow overturned
by the now infamous words of wisdom
as i once again fulfill yet another act of disbelief
and cry over nonsense...
but in the midst of the sea of woe
i interrupted the feeding frenzy of the sharks
however the omnipresence of murky waters
justified the oblivious desire
to simply grin and bear it.
i swam ashore
fulfilling an inward desire to live
and be able to eradicate the hopelessness
that resides in me when i am down again.
the endless echoes of nocturnal sighs
carefully part the waves
as the careless splash scared the stars
and, with confused clouds i shouted your name
and it echoed only to keep me out of the water
albeit for an instant.
(feb. 11, 1999)
BE TRUE
when the winds of change deny the crepitous feelings
and the enigma that lingers within the cracks of time
dutifully dislodges a sliver of friendship, i know that you will be there.
into the dungeons of solitude
creeps a creature unforeseen as alive
yet craving for more fine moments
and stolen whispers as you disappear from view
only to return anew when dark clouds give way
to a moon that was waiting to burst a smile
from me to you.
torn pages of the book now turning yellow
as time passes by in slow motion
with leaves falling, cold creeping in
i look back
and you were there--head bowed down,
misty-eyed but smiling
and i wonder why the will to memorize
the steps i once took
no longer make the mark as if the wind
blows away the sand prints my feet made
as i once more come back
to look for the stone i lost
eons ago.
(nov. 23, 1998)
BOREALIS
in the darkness of the night i see
an empty palette,
a few specks of blinking stars
not knowing which one can outgrow a smile
or an unexpected frown
the almost eerie nighttime easterly breeze
the absolute silence
all entwined to assist me catch a star
with my bare hands like dust wafted
to earth.
hours pass and i shall patiently wait to see
the bright one come this way
and bring back the times i longed for
when leaves were gold not green.
another empty pocket, another star missed
tonight i shall stand guard again--
waiting for the clouds to unravel the nearness
of a bright body in the sky
be it a glimpse, and another, then gone.
(june 23, 2000)
THE BLOOM THAT WASN'T
summer was on her way out, the sun was tired
of all the confusion, laughter, and sobs
of flowers that hang around until fall
when leaves turn golden brown and drop
like dead birds off a tree in the middle of summer
in death valley.
creeping, i searched for water
but instead i found someone, almost mirage-like
and with a smile so mesmerizing
i reached out for the heavens, all limbs stretched
but as i started to get up the wind swept the sand
into my face, blanketing my vision
and letting go of the fingers
that were locked with mine as if petals
from the roadside flowers dropped
before they bloomed.
(oct. 16, 1998)
BRING IT BACK
as if medusa worries about hairs flailing away
and with mind-boggling screams
criscrossed spider webs,
half-twisted thoughts, half-finished cupcakes,
she can ignore.
the crescent moon with its silvery chin,
gazes nonchalantly at me
as if trying to convey a message of joy (?)
but sheepishly i say, "me?"
then i left.
even crickets can't chirp anymore
without the thrill of keyboards and screens
in symphony with a sliver of trust and sensitivity
coupled with the gentle thrust of craving
for a lost jewel, a lost friend.
rising from the ashes among stars
the contoured face of the moon slowly forms
into a less disfigured monument
almost gently erasing away the tracks of time
that were once yours and mine.
(jan. 1, 1998)
THE CALL
untouched caricatures
suddenly mystified the realm of a lost soul
that evolved from the cracks of a winter chill
only to be erased as rains doused the validity
of an interlude.
the call of the wild echoed
over the land
and as a soft voice misidentified the soul
there existed another spark of life
longing for yet another connection
as the first one terminated.
the impression was hardly judgeable
as to what impact it could have marked
on a lowly vegetable soul
almost devoid of existence
as yet another voice
sneaks into the lovely one
at the other end.
(1997)
CAN I PLAY?
the waves cartwheel into the sand
scaring away crustaceans that creep
into smoothed crevices
carefree and easy, they gallop like seahorses
tackled by the gigantic wall of disbelief
trying to disregard the absence of darkness.
but the torrid acquaintances,
the delicate movements staged by few
on occasions when the sun never misses a drop
of a cornerstone shell
but who can believe the surge of power
when caressing whispers unfold the glory
and bliss of simply having to wander barefoot
without disturbing the sand
and living life as it should when bells toll
to signal the waves once more
to kiss the waiting shore.
(feb. 23, 1999)
CATALYST
the fire burns even when there is dampness
in the air
and as soft whispers of the wind tease the flame
the warmth rekindles a memory from distant shores
when water and sand playfully cooperated
to host two children in search of shells on the beach.
as salty bubbles disappear with the edge of the waves
the untouched soles again display a hearty craving
for a step into the damp sand
only to squeeze the moisture out from within the fire
gently perfusing the body so neglectedly beautiful
and untamed by none.
then there was rain
and fire
as the collapsing sand castles join the water
and slide down into an almost oblivious departure
that fanning the flame and rekindling the fire
is enough to waken up a soul.
(may 16, 1999)
CLOUD FOUR
the skies are dark
but i see each cloud as it hangs around
to say hello
i try to touch them
just to make sure their presence is real
and although i know they're there
i can't seem to "feel" them
but the whiff of moisture clings to my fingers
as i touch their souls
and as the air fans them out apart
i believe i have put my heart into them
as i recapture my body once more
only to be with you
there is still wonder in dreams
no matter how distant or out of reach
i open my arms to welcome the moods
that will make each day another one to behold
even if it's just a piece of you.
(jan. 5, 2000)
A DAY IN PLAIN VIEW
as views whizzed by and the relentless blue sky chased me
and the roaring tide of boredom justified the gulps of intimate sighs,
curved spine and lead feet
away from the breeze that contradicted the principle of the wheel
dragged the scenery not thinking that the artists solemnly pleaded innocence
in etching on the canvas now eroded with inner thoughts
that almost withered with time, unforgetten yet untouched
by the narcoleptic episodes that survived the holocaust
as dreams wafted to the moon’s surface
precariously wedged in between winks of solitude.
as the sky widened
the sound of the wind repeated itself in staccato echoes
of songs seemingly depicted in abstract views,
tediously crafted by the long-gone artists of a forgotten era
but the dust settled
when the winds finally lifted the sand back into the water
only to be pushed back again to shore
when the ungenerous tide comes along
in another million years.
it’s past midnight--
the sun is there... where are we?
(sept. 28, 1998)
DO I AGREE? NOT ALWAYS
you came up to me one night
when things were not quite alright
i stretched out and smiled
even though the evening can go wild
i see the hands of the clock
sweeping as if rushing to run amuck
only to behold a dream
and listen to the sound of you for them.
you arrived just in time for the choir
no practice yet ready for the fire
wishing it will be the night to remember
and touch the sky and smile forever
for each wink you send i blush
and you kissed me without a hush.
(may 3, 2000)
THE DOOR IS OPEN
sound of footsteps disappear into infinity
then a muffled thunderclap emanate from within you
amid the thick covers
arranged delicately to accept the meeting of pillows
amassed by truthful sighs of joy
unhampered by the strange notion
that even butterflies can't fly?
spreading the sheets in orchestrated motion
and taps from the mounds elevate the temperature
of the night
as if it's midsummer alone in the dark
and the untamed caresses the will to keep the flame alive
thinking that life begins with love--
but when?
warm embraces from the nocturnal breeze
can't explain why even the cold-blooded tree frog
enjoy the sight of shapely creatures
smiling lusciously amid bodies unprotected by fabric
and seemingly undisturbed by the thrill
of seeing butterflies forcing their way out of
humanoid cocoons.
(may 20, 1998)
THE DRIVE
resting my head on my palm
sweat comes down my forehead
the cold temperature goes lower
the wind dies down only to restore power
to an untamed fire
willingly gnawing the throngs of elusion
as one more bag is filled.
empty clothes fall on empty chairs
the floor has lost its shine without saying goodbye
to the settling dust so unbecoming,
forlorn.
the hissing sound of the wind gently pushes me
to the open window that cries for more space
as the waves openly embrace the waiting shore
only to say goodbye one more time.
(nov. 4, 1998)
ESCONDIDO
only in my dreams have i seen a place
with so much beauty
where streams of sweet water flow
and little creatures scream with laughter
the hills surrounds it with a motherly embrace
and the peaks stand with a peaceful stance.
and in my dreams i walked its quiet streets
surrounded by groves of avocados
nurtured by the sun and caressed by the wind
since summer rolled in.
a two hundred-mile stretch of highway looms
and beckons one soul to travel eastward
without a guiding light
but still the soul searches endlessly so--
for escondido.
(march 25, 2000)
THE EXOTIC DANCER
the diffused lighting in the room greeted me
and as i walked in, masked faces turned towards my direction
then, clad in metallic paraphernalia the dancer appeared
like a dove from a magician's hands
only she could launch a thousand ships
without parting her lips.
watching her moves, i summoned up my thoughts
as if i have known her before the big bang
she gracefully acknowledged subtle nods and raised eyebrows
so delicately that she conformed to the persona that she is
the exotic dancer that i have dreamed of
many years before.
the attraction levels out and my drink ran out
nonchalantly exiting through the squeaky doors that slammed after me
i found myself turning around to peek in once more--
and there she was... looking, but through me
and i turned away almost promising not to look back...
but i did.
deep in my apical feelings i knew from the start
that she was the one who danced with me
on moonlit nights eons before
and she was there when things went wrong
and when things were right... whispering sweet things
that make me love her more.
(jan. 6, 1999)
THE FIFTH OF MAY
although the room was almost full
as if showered by the celestial stardust
warily i saw creatures talking without voices--
seemingly crippled by loss of sight and touch
but as i scanned the plateau where i stood
there she was this woman, a fine woman
if i may
and as she raised her hand to greet me
i faltered and ran even when words collided
with undue rupture to an unimaginative proposition
to clear up fears and doubts
borne by accidental blackout unexplained by the truth
however genuine.
leaving the heavens, i bothered not look back
just to ease the pain and arouse the spirit
that screamed for joy that is so far-fetched
until a faint voice suddenly echoed in my ears and
thinking it's a dream
to see her embrace my waiting body--now numb and mute
only to be fixed at her enormous smile, her gentle words,
careless whispers
and as the rain started to fall
i screamed once more and this time the echo was louder
and the words came out without hesitation
and i was mute no more.
(may 15, 1998)
FOREVER GIRL
why must i tell you how
to forget the things we’ve done
the words we spoke, the actions we took
it’s never easy to lose
the thrill that loomed each time
the sun came up to shine
even when the weather frowned.
the muted days and nights
are no longer shared
the powerless grip let go
when the drums ceased to play
and you didn’t even look back,
and letting your feelings show
was all i knew.
the music died senselessly
when the guitar lost a string
and none of the violins worked
yet believing there is no other you
to share and touch the dreams
for this darkness i knew--
forever girl.
(mar. 18, 2000)
GEMS
misplaced feelings no more
i parted my lips to smile once again
without saying a word
and believing that unearthed stones never died
my arms, outstretched
played the music we shared--jazz
and as each note tingled our fancy
we once again stared at the sky
only to find that darkness is bright enough
and that the sun will soon part the clouds
to bring you back to me.
in my hands i carry the burden
of proving the validity of these stones
but as the nocturnal music starts to play
we rendered a glance as if trying to
recall the moment we shared
albeit for a very short time
but still--we were "there."
(mar. 3, 2000)
GENTLE TAPS
the gentle rain tapped my shoulders
and in a rush i woke up to the music it makes
and the noise the tires make on the wet pavement
and with the coldness of this late winter morn
my feet requires the soothing caress of cotton
and the loving embrace of heated air.
through the blinds i see a new world--
one that seems to untangle unruly hairs
and offers a mystic inference
that the blind can't "see"
a sight so magical indeed that the feeling
conforms to undiluted meanings from the heart.
the sky frowns but it's not forever
as raindrops fall, so does the rhythm of one's ego
but no sooner than the last drop tickles the roof once again
the sun will bring forth the smile we need
to strum the lost chords as we struggle to live
yet another day.
(mar. 11, 1999)
GRACEFUL MORNING
even dreams mystify but enlighten
the minds of cynicism and awe
and what appears to be havoc could turn out
a mold that elusively discriminates fact
from fiction.
undo this hurt and you shall receive
abundant grace and solitude that no longer
exist to haunt you in your deep sleep,
yet it is hopeful
that beneath the broken dreams
and dark clouds
the sun will shine
forever.
(dec. 1997)
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