I am a Poet

I am a poet.

My hands shake in ecstasy

upon the sight of

pens and blank sheets scattered

about carelessly on my desk.

I am a poet.

My forehead in its wrinkled

state impress wealth

of reflection, inspired by

the magnificence of nature.

I am a poet.

My blood streams passion in

every heartbeat;

words flow in my thoughts like a

river finding its way to the sea.

I am a poet.

My adrenaline rush through

raptured veins as my

senses amuse themselves with

the lavish colors of my hurt.

I am a poet.

My creative archetype

groove with festive thumps

as silence bounce about in

rhythmic union with my laughter.

I am a poet…

by virtue of who I am

and what I feel as

I seek of an avenue,

I write my life space with faith

and ardor of a craftsman

that indeed I am

a POET.

 ©Marjo Josue

His Purity in Hell

Ice cream fudge

girl licks sweetly

carelessly

not realizing

an anticipating wolf.

Skipping rope

girl hops about

happily

unknowing

of a scheming marauder.

Candies and pops

girl holds tight

clinging hopelessly

when she noticed

how the man across

the street looks at her

hungrily.

Bears and stuff

girl holds tight

never wanting to let go

when she discerned at last

how the man walked

through her

hastily.

Ice cream fudge

fell on the ground,

skipping rope

haphazardly scattered,

candies and pops

sloppily dropped,

bears and stuff

in a slapdash.

Nobody heard her scream

kids went on playing

as they please,

unaware

that behind

the gargantuan church bell

lies a scorned childhood,

shattered dreams.

Nobody heard her scream

people went along their business

as they too need quarts

to live a decent life

but who would care

when a lamb so pure

had taken her line

among innocence astray.

As the man screamed

in ecstasy,

a silenced plea

escaped the girl’s larynx

gone with the wind

and the only witness

are her tears

sprinkled on the manicured grass

and the empty clanging

of the old church bell.

She thought to herself

this will be over

I can wash away his scent,

tomorrow will be a new day

I can go back playing

buy some fudge

skip rope with friends

get some candies and pops

in my granny’s jar

tug along my bears and stuff.

Poor girl

she woke up

the day after… smiling

thinking what a beautiful day

it was… it’s Sunday

she whispered to herself,

got to put on my best dress

will hear the mass with Mom

and they went ahead.

Sitting on the first row
she knelt before God
fervently praying
when alas!

She screamed
like there was no end
exploding her lungs,
breaking her aorta
into bits and pieces of hope
because there was the man
standing on the altar
in his untarnished white cloak.

BOX

Four walls

with the absence of

four doors

and four windows.

Four choices

with the absence of

the will to choose.

Be asleep

stay awake

be fuckin’ bored

or be dead.

Either of those ways

you still have to be confined.

They let the knowledge stream

without letting you

question it.

They let the music be heard

without letting you

dance to its beat

or dare sing

to its melody.

They let the love radiate

without letting you

feel it

or savor it.

And after a while

you get used to the

four walls.

And you stop searching for

the four doors and windows.

And you stop searching for answers

though you still exemplify the

faculties of the existing.

You breathe, you eat

you seemingly smile;

You bite your tongue

you poke your eyes.

But pain becomes

a stranger

to the senses.

And it is at this time

you would realize

you are dead

and confined.

©Marjo Josue

Happiness In Love... Found

Daylight penetrated

my shadowy life;

Rays of hope

came like prophets,

Angels descended for the good news

proclaiming love … found!

But doubt hovered

My heart filled with fear

for the doomed value of my youth

and the principles I broke;

for the love found for eternity

that shed light to this

abandoned spirit.

I may have bridged over sorrow

and crossed the darkness of tunnels,

I may have fought the inevitable

and lost the stupid game they call love;

But then again, I hoped

and my prayer was granted,

He accepted this scorned soul

and embraced the beleaguered woman in me.

Then vows were made

But hey! Were they from Heaven?

Do I deserve happiness?

Do I deserve love?

Do I deserve him?

He may be the one.

He has to be the one.

Deep in this wounded heart

stream a music that was searching

for the right note to be struck,

so love would radiate

from the unknown crypt

where I once hid

from the selfishness of my prey.

Now the chains were broken,

the burden was lifted up;

The love I was once just yearning for

conquered the fear that blinded me

and has brought me home

from that of which I thought

was my sarcophagus

of no return.

And now I have known

what real happiness is.

Yes! It’s in the arms of my husband.

It’s in the warmth of his embrace.

It’s in the song of his silence.

It’s in the melody of his voice.

It’s in the solitude I have found in his gaze.

It’s in the music of his laughter.

It’s in the joy of his love.

Yes! It’s in this man

that I have found happiness in love

at last.

©Marjo Josue

Happiness in Love

Darkness, caves,

Light, valleys and plains;

Where does this road lead me?

Rain poured, unexpectedly,

flood came, drowning my soul;

my heart pounding

eyes blurred with tears.

My mind traveling

way back…

Am I wrong?

Meeting love.

Meeting hatred.

Yet, chose to love again?

I came across sorrow in happiness,

I felt pain in love,

But I never learned!

Now, I wallow in misery… again.

Was it I?

Was it you?

Wasn’t it right for us?

I tried to understand

I know you gave your best, too.

Perhaps it was love.

Perhaps it wasn’t.

Or still, time wasn’t right

that you and I would be.

Wandering… I came to a stop,

“Do I love you?”

I listened…

“I’m no longer sure

as I was before.”

Was it because of pride?

I don’t know.

Then I let go.

Disguising myself,

I smile.

I laugh.

Thinking.

Oh! We really would never be!

Asking myself:

When would happiness

be real happiness

not pain clothe in joy;

When will love

be endless and true love?

Only heaven knows!

Hoping. Wishing.

praying hard, too.

That in the right time

in a right place

with the right person

I’ll find happiness in love.

©Marjo Josue

Wild Boar

triumphant, I gave two creatures life
hoping that they impart to the world
the real meaning of their valued existence
like what Jesus did
driving bad spirits into the herd

Waterlily

floating, freedom to be
loving the water that cleanses what is physical
purifying it in return
symbiosis
the science of co-existing
and the essence of living

Cubicle

A lad with so many dreams
“I wanna graduate,” he says,
“just give me a chance.”
A future withdrawn.


A heart-broken mother
“My daughter is pregnant.
My son was given no chance.”
Chose guidelines over pity.


Young lady with a pretty face
“I did no wrong,” she claims
“my friends are no goons.”
Cursed the system.


A proud mom I believe
“They cannot touch my daughter.
Negotiate with my lawyer.”
Did justice prevail?


An emotionally traumatized boy
“My parents are in Italy.
Spent vacation there last summer.”
Walked away from reality.


A pained grandmother
“My grandson ran away.
He might have gone to his mother.”
Sheltering a wounded child.


Two energetic freshies
“He hit me hard,” one says.
“You hit back harder,” said the other.
Repairing a broken pride.


One of the two came back
“Please don’t tell my father.
He will hurt me for sure.”
A displaced aggression.


A teeny-bopper craving for love
"I don't give a damn," she whispers,
"Nobody cares anyway." Tears fell.
Pretensions and denial.


An experimenting youngster
“I am not what they claim I am.
I didn’t even say those words.”
Trying to cover a jarred note.


A trusting mother
“I am not after what others think of.
But if it’s proven, he must go.”
Credibility heads on.


All these and more in two months time
an everyday drama unfolds
emotions break free
inside my cubicle.




Posted August 2, 2007 in CABAnata

Rocking Chair

Rocking chair
I sat on your lap
sweetly, you carry me
comforting my fear
from that hairy monster
grandpop created in my mind.


Rocking chair
I cling to your arm
slowly, you lull me to sleep
soothing my tiredness
from that enjoyable play
I shared with some friends.


Rocking chair
I lay my head on your breast
caringly, you hug me
calming my senses
from the draining hours in school
I spent in my own excellence.


Rocking chair
I rest my body unto you
softly, you wrap your warmth around me
easing my scorned heart
broken by some cruel beings
I met and trusted and loved.


Rocking chair
I lean my exhausted thoughts to you
with sensitivity, you understand me
relieving my weariness
from the demands of my work
I devote myself to.


Rocking chair
I now run my fingers to your skin
old and rickety you may seem
a touch of you still alleviates my burden
from the strains of this world we live in
where together we have aged with.

Memories flowed upon the sight of granny's old rickety rocking chair when I visited her last weekend. Cried a bit. So much memories. Now it's kept in the stock room, where granny can rock no more. (reposted)

Tetris

Pieces fall
blocks of varied shapes
drop
in their destined place;
Player
curses for a bad move
rejoices at times
when that piece
reaches the ground,
screwed up
or just right.
Experience Tetris
in your life.

Walls

build walls

shut cruelty outside self

truth

enemy lurks inside us

Ripples

pebbles

thrown into the water

water ripples

water engulfs

life

Tears

teardrop

water cascading

minute

concludes an entire story

A Dozen Pens

A dozen pens

An array of bright colored features

Their tears creatively spilled love

Danced with strength and fear

Spoke a dozen happiness

Slashed the tranquility of peace

Healed the woundedness of grace.

A dozen pens

An array of dark stained beings

Their blood shed enlightenment

Crossed the hollowness of mortals

Conveyed a dozen cynicism

Paralyzed the greatness of valiance

Filled the emptiness of faith.

A dozen pens

An array of encapsulated truth

Their pride ridiculed humility

Laughed over the cries of oppression

Wrote a dozen prejudice

Silenced the whimpering of justice

Resurrected the crippledness of honor.

A dozen pens

An array of estranged creatures

Their poignance crumbled holied esteems

Chose between beauty and wisdom

Mimicked a dozen insecurities

Gagged the shouts of confidence

Pulsated nothing but I…

I am a dozen pensI

can be an array of bright colored features

I can be an array of dark stained beings

I can be an array of encapsulated truth

I can be an array of estranged creatures

Whatever that I am…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

My tears can creatively spill love

My blood can shed forth enlightenment

My pride can ridicule the humble

My poignance can crumble the esteem of others

Whatever that I can…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I dance with strength and fear

I cross the hollowness of mortals

I laugh over the cries of the oppressed

I choose between beauty and wisdom

Whatever that I do…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I speak of happiness

I convey cynicism

I write about prejudice

I mimic insecurities of the world and I

Whatever that I impart…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I slash the tranquility of peace

I paralyze the greatness of valiance

I silence the whimpering of justice

I gag the shouts of confidence

Whatever that I execute…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I heal the wounded ness of grace

I fill the emptiness of faith

I resurrect the crippled of honor

I pulsate nothing but myself

I … is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

My thoughts can be an enemy or a friend

My words can be a dagger or a rose

My actions can be a curse or a blessing

I … can hurt or heal.

A dozen pens… I am.