Maguindanao

that stupid war: rough study by ~yatoy on deviantART

Nin huli ta an buhay
yaon sa saiyang kamot,
paghona niya kaya niya
na tulos ining ratakon

asin bawion.
Siya na bako man kaglalang,
hinuhugot an hinangos
hale sa daghan

nin mga tawong
mawot sana man magkontra
sa kaputikan.

Sa likod nin lente,
saindang nahiling an balang
may ukit nin saindang ngaran.

Mamundo maging Burak

Mauran makusog,
dangan masaldang nin pwerte.
Mahayop an duros asin
haros mapugto an kugos

na nagtatao sakuya nin buhay.
Aking sadit na sana
an minatino sakuya
kun bako an putakti

na lantad akong hinahabasan;
minadulok sana pag may kaipuhan.

Sa poon, masakit. Ibinubuyangyang mo
an saimong sadiri, maray na sana
ta dae ka mapapasupog
pag dae ka tinitino.

Maray pa an politikong
puro ka-lapaan an imahe,
pinag-uulayan mantang huya ako,
nagpu-porbar na hapihapon

an saimong kipot na daghan
para haleon an kulog boot
asin mga kaanggotan,
pero duros sana an naghahadok.

Doorstep

Love, here I am.
The wounds have healed
and my callused feet
have now grown well.

I have grown tired
of seeking you, Love.
Oh those cold, restless nights
that I've spent in search of you.

Love, here I am.
Deliver yourself to me
for I have prepared
a cozy home for you.

And the sun,
has gone down again.
But I;ve heard not -
not a single knock on my door.

Love, here I am.
In the morning,
I hope, I could find you
waiting at my doorstep.

Photo Courtesy of Maryam Xelene del Pilar

Daydream

On the other end of the room
that promised the growth
of the human mind,
you sat down away from me

at the other corner,
thinking of something else.

How I want to unravel
the mystery beneath those buttons
and uncover you
like a never-before-read book,

with worlds waiting
for me to discover them.

How I want to peruse
the very features that lie in wait
for me to unwrap;
I will not wear them down

rather, hold them dearly.
I will trek each curve with passion

that keep the climbers hiking.
And your hair will live freely
between my fingers all the while
I'm kissing you.

Now, it's your turn to write something about this...(Guernica by Pablo Picasso)

Please e-mail me at these addresses:
unholy_gm@yahoo.com
irose103008@yahoo.com

The Breeze tells me, Loved One... by Antonio Machado

The breeze tells me, loved one,
of your pure white dress . . .
My eyes may not see you,
but my heart awaits.

The wind has brought me
your name in the morning;
the echo of your step
resounds on the hill . . .
My eyes may not see you
but my heart awaits.

In the somber towers
the bells are tolling . . .
My eyes may not see you
but my heart awaits.

The falling hammer
tells me of the black box;
and the place for the grave,
the sound of the spade . . .
My eyes may not see you
but my heart awaits.