the manuscript

my ink spills fire and blood
on an unbridled manuscript
that witnessed all my quiet deaths
as paper sliced through my skin

my tainted hands still find you here
in strokes of sticks, humps, and tails
this night-long poem speaks of sad
for the bolter that got away

and the years passed
like thumbnail images on a fading filmstrip
the sparks and tears and could-have-beens
no longer hurt my current pen

the albatross—
turned weightless
the black dog—
no longer seen

Image: Unsplash

---

Day 17 of NaPoWriMo challenges us to write a poem that is inspired by a piece of music, and that shares its title with that piece of music. I wrote this one during the TTPD release week. Titles from its four bonus tracks are included.

A lesson learned along the trail

The world was bathed in pitch black
Not a single noise along the trail
Through mountain footpaths and steel staircases we trudged
Heaving, coughing, on labored breaths
To my right, the sun peeked through the horizon
And the field was bathed in its chrome-yellow glare
But the numbers on the signage were mocking
The trail winded—ascending, descending then ascending again
With each turn, my expectations rose
Then fell harder than my tired boots
Assumptions are dangerous things —
I should have not put my trust on that cardboard.

---

I know it’s already May and I’m still 15 days behind this year’s NaPoWriMo. Haha. No excuses.

Here’s for Day 16 where we write a poem that closely describe an object or place. The ending should have an abstract, philosophical kind of statement. This one is inspired by my recent climb in Bukidnon.

Pilipinas

Pearl of the Orient
a beauty beyond compare
no money can scale
where homey smiles can be seen
from the mountains to the seas

Image: Philippine Stamps

---

Day 15 of NaPoWriMo asks us to write a poem inspired by postage stamps. Since I’m not familiar with the ones from International Philately, I’ve decided to choose one from my country. Here’s a tanka.

the girl in the mirror

i want to crawl inside my own skin
down to where the deepest cut reach
i want to rip my rib open
see if the hearts still beats
i want to map each line on my soles
trace every mountains and seas
i want to peel layers of my calloused hands
read what stories they hold

i heave. i ache. i choke.

i want to know the girl in the mirror—
examine all her detached pieces
kiss all her rosewood wounds

Image: Favim

---

Day 14 of NaPoWriMo asks us to use anaphora on our poem. I originally wanted to pattern this to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 66 but I do not have enough brain cells today, plus I’m already 13 days behind. HAHA. Maybe next time.

sleepless

i lie awake snuggled in your scent
coiled in reveries like a slumbering serpent
streaks of light invade my domain
this reality, an unwelcomed eyestrain

the sun and its mocking glare
all my unanswered prayers
the flat bed of daisies
all my endless autopsies
the blood-stained dreams-bitter
all my anger aglitter
the little, half-baked lies
all my nameless battle cries

i lie awake enshrouded in apathy
ashamed for believing your loud and feigned gallantry
repeated memories in my head run
of the man who i thought was finally the one

Image: Unsplash

---

Day 13 of NaPoWriMo asks us to play with rhyme, with the twist of using a “word bank”.

Kassandra

she, who entangles men
with her nectarine lips
and sinkhole eyes,
mouth full of sunsets,
curses and lies

she, daughter of Priam
who angered the gods
with her existence
turned her fate around—
an act of vengeance

she, retribution incarnate
blood spills in her wake,
mildewed flowers set aflame
planets mourn, forests weep
a prophetess crowned in burial wreaths

this time this will be no warning
no stones to throw
no witch burning

Image: Unsplash

---

And The Tortured Poets Department inspiration continues for Day 11 of NaPoWrimo where attempt to write a tall tale. Personally, this was hard to write since I’m not very good with hyperboles. I don’t intentionally use them often. I’m more of a metaphor/personification user.

I might improve this in the future, but for now here’s what I can come up with. Hehe.

Suspended

My wings are tired, no roses to rest.

---

Day 11 of NaPoWriMo is a breather. We are challenged  to write  a monostich, which is a one-line poem.

Image Source: Favim

45,000 letters of love — or was it?

45,000 letters of love
for a life short-lived
she was a silent IT girl
at the center of gossip
they pried her open
left nothing unturned
from her haughty behaviors
to her gods and demons

1930s gave a taste of freedom
the silent IT girl has found her voice
broken free from the world’s scrutiny
jumped around from party to party

they said I was a madwoman
if this be madness, let me be one

---

Continuing on with Day 10 of NaPoWriMo where we write a poem based on one of the curious headlines, cartoons, and other journalistic tidbits featured at Yesterday’s Print.

My choice of inspiration is this news clip from The Decatur Daily Review, Illinois, May 17, 1936. With the recent release of The Tortured Poets Department, I can’t help but make this short piece Clara Bow- coded.

Ode to a Cup

In the calloused hands that cradle
this drinking vessel
a chain of memories
begins to arise
from fragrant brews—
majestic muse of morn,
to the nature’s spring—
life’s most sacred pour

In this household you come
in different faces:
ceramic, translucent, synthetic, metal
different in sizes, shapes, and designs
yet one and the same
in function and desire

From your mouth,
my mother drinks her dawn’s ritual
while my father quenches his thirst
after a long hard day
you may not be the chalice
that holds the holiest of wines
but each sip from you is a journey,
another story entwined.

---

I went MIA— again. So now I’m ten days behind this month’s writing prompts because life happened. Haha.

Anyway, here’s for Day 9 of NaPoWriMo where we attempt to write an ode celebrating everyday objects. I couldn’t write as good as the great Neruda, whose poems I will forever adore, but here’s my take.