i have wringed my heart of all
pain yet its wounded beat still
calls for your name so fervently,
as if we never confronted death,
as if no end exists, as if the twilight
holds no bounds, and that is
because i could not bear not
being with you, when life is
fleeting and love is elusive, this soul
fastens itself to fragments that
remind us of imperfections and
repercussions, of forgiveness and
redemption, of more good than
bad, so let me take your hand again.
synapses | sonnet fourteen
seeking the fury of a broken blood,
the night await light with bated
breath and darkness seep unto
unknown corners, haunted only
by you ~ measuring angles, facets
and layers upon layers of
all that makes you imperfect
yet so impeccable, the decimals
that dictate and elevate you
above everyone else, the light that
bend passes through fragments
i wish to unravel, the imperfect,
arresting impasse ~ that is ~ your
words, your hopes, your prayers.
the night await light with bated
breath and darkness seep unto
unknown corners, haunted only
by you ~ measuring angles, facets
and layers upon layers of
all that makes you imperfect
yet so impeccable, the decimals
that dictate and elevate you
above everyone else, the light that
bend passes through fragments
i wish to unravel, the imperfect,
arresting impasse ~ that is ~ your
words, your hopes, your prayers.
synapses | sonnet thirteen
the light of the day comes from the
sacred curve of your lips, then
races to the impenetrable strength
of your eyes, graceful and still
who would have imagined that
luminosity exists in a world dampened
and darkened by hurt, but i see
your soul speak of the truth, and
utter the mystery of long forgotten
dreams, colors that echo in the void,
flames that long for your breath
ascend, arrest, aspire for greater
depth within, clinging
only to your wonder.
sacred curve of your lips, then
races to the impenetrable strength
of your eyes, graceful and still
who would have imagined that
luminosity exists in a world dampened
and darkened by hurt, but i see
your soul speak of the truth, and
utter the mystery of long forgotten
dreams, colors that echo in the void,
flames that long for your breath
ascend, arrest, aspire for greater
depth within, clinging
only to your wonder.
synapses | sonnet twelve
what would be the repercussion
if in case i would stop, put a halt
on everything that moves, like a sick
inertia that could have waited for
a more perfect moment, why even
dare ask a question one will never
be ready for? but maybe, just
maybe, i will have no choice
but to let you be, let things follow
the natural order, that is, death
after so much pain ~ we all need
a release, i cannot chain you and
maim you, and think the world
of you in the darkness.
if in case i would stop, put a halt
on everything that moves, like a sick
inertia that could have waited for
a more perfect moment, why even
dare ask a question one will never
be ready for? but maybe, just
maybe, i will have no choice
but to let you be, let things follow
the natural order, that is, death
after so much pain ~ we all need
a release, i cannot chain you and
maim you, and think the world
of you in the darkness.
synapses | sonnet eleven
angles that leave a soul
hapless and empty of love for
oneself, all because everything has
been given up and offered to
you, at your mercy, the diminutive
rage of planets born each second,
the fire that happens, the
opposite of light, straying away
from what would bes and what
could have beens, longing for reality,
flesh and blood and wound and scar
without understanding the weight
of destruction from silence
and solitude, harbors that keep secrets.
hapless and empty of love for
oneself, all because everything has
been given up and offered to
you, at your mercy, the diminutive
rage of planets born each second,
the fire that happens, the
opposite of light, straying away
from what would bes and what
could have beens, longing for reality,
flesh and blood and wound and scar
without understanding the weight
of destruction from silence
and solitude, harbors that keep secrets.
synapses | sonnet ten
perhaps next time when the skies
will no longer beg for crimson memories
you can afford a synapse
to recall only me, and my humanity
the days end poetically, under
the orange glare of the sunset,
to forge, remember and never
forget the once forlorn taste
of a lonely august wind
that arrests and makes for
hazy afternoons an eternal,
perpetual battle, climbing through
the vines like fatal resurrections
of bittersweet hours.
will no longer beg for crimson memories
you can afford a synapse
to recall only me, and my humanity
the days end poetically, under
the orange glare of the sunset,
to forge, remember and never
forget the once forlorn taste
of a lonely august wind
that arrests and makes for
hazy afternoons an eternal,
perpetual battle, climbing through
the vines like fatal resurrections
of bittersweet hours.
synapses | sonnet nine
your hands carve the light that
resonates in the fight, racing against
the impatient shadows of shapes,
songs and lines that trap
the poetry in these words, heaving
the foam on the sea, like the
wind and white thoughts
lost within nights and deaths and
demise, only to wake up the next
morning aroused and bemused and
bespectacled by your silence and
sigh, you glance, you nod, you stare,
you dare and surrender to an
emptiness endless and entangled.
resonates in the fight, racing against
the impatient shadows of shapes,
songs and lines that trap
the poetry in these words, heaving
the foam on the sea, like the
wind and white thoughts
lost within nights and deaths and
demise, only to wake up the next
morning aroused and bemused and
bespectacled by your silence and
sigh, you glance, you nod, you stare,
you dare and surrender to an
emptiness endless and entangled.
synapses | sonnet eight
desperation drained upon my broken
heart, when on hours alone and
empty i fall still and silent catching
drops of illusions gathered
from dissembled, lifeless atoms
of things you once touched,
moments have become frail and
forgettable and ultimately useless
for i cannot resurrect just a notion,
i need more than a recollection or
an apparition, i crave realities
and manifestations, like the dawn
cracking the peace of the sky to
let in an undeniable light.
heart, when on hours alone and
empty i fall still and silent catching
drops of illusions gathered
from dissembled, lifeless atoms
of things you once touched,
moments have become frail and
forgettable and ultimately useless
for i cannot resurrect just a notion,
i need more than a recollection or
an apparition, i crave realities
and manifestations, like the dawn
cracking the peace of the sky to
let in an undeniable light.
synapses | sonnet seven
and if the world falters to make
your life revolve, this is my wish:
that you find my eyes searching
for you at the end of each day,
that you find my blood seeking
your fire in the midst of pandemonium,
that you find these words begging
for your selfless, undefeatable
wonder, waiting and anticipating
the sweet languor of your
hidden smile, the might of my
thoughts gathering your pieces
to create a kaleidoscope of light
and colour, a soul resurfacing after breaking.
your life revolve, this is my wish:
that you find my eyes searching
for you at the end of each day,
that you find my blood seeking
your fire in the midst of pandemonium,
that you find these words begging
for your selfless, undefeatable
wonder, waiting and anticipating
the sweet languor of your
hidden smile, the might of my
thoughts gathering your pieces
to create a kaleidoscope of light
and colour, a soul resurfacing after breaking.
synapses | sonnet six
to seek the living particles of your
deep songs, the lamentable midnights
you found yourself alone, so i may
gather your wonder in my hands
and tell you that nothing has changed,
that you are and were and never
have been resurrected to any other
form save the unbreakable,
irreplaceable you, the invisible fragments
of your laughter, or the childish sobs
you nurse when we are apart
come alive to surrender
to your near-perfect love, i dread the
hours i would be empty of your gaze.
deep songs, the lamentable midnights
you found yourself alone, so i may
gather your wonder in my hands
and tell you that nothing has changed,
that you are and were and never
have been resurrected to any other
form save the unbreakable,
irreplaceable you, the invisible fragments
of your laughter, or the childish sobs
you nurse when we are apart
come alive to surrender
to your near-perfect love, i dread the
hours i would be empty of your gaze.
synapses | sonnet five
your voice climb over the arches of
my thoughts like a stealthy vine of
flowers that carefully fastens
itself to my oblivion, languishing over
you, nowehere, neverwhere, i lie
motionless, with my dreams buried in
your merciless atoms, i could not
bring myself to ask for a release
since these chains and bounds keep
me from drifting away, the tether around
my soul tightens as it scours the
darkness for a pin of hope that
resembles morning after a storm
the wind spirals to blue clouds racing.
my thoughts like a stealthy vine of
flowers that carefully fastens
itself to my oblivion, languishing over
you, nowehere, neverwhere, i lie
motionless, with my dreams buried in
your merciless atoms, i could not
bring myself to ask for a release
since these chains and bounds keep
me from drifting away, the tether around
my soul tightens as it scours the
darkness for a pin of hope that
resembles morning after a storm
the wind spirals to blue clouds racing.
synapses | sonnet four
my heart throbs against yours then
my skin crawls only to seek the
heat and sweat that emerge from
your secret fire, a hearth that
warms a sunrise and makes a
sunset envious of your light, a vein
that, with the dead calm, longs for
the red passion of your blood and
the impossible brown haze of your eyes
in the depths of my hands fell aching
for the hours stripped of all thoughts
but keeping you still, unaltered, untouched
begging the fluttering, hastening wind
to carry your kisses over waters.
my skin crawls only to seek the
heat and sweat that emerge from
your secret fire, a hearth that
warms a sunrise and makes a
sunset envious of your light, a vein
that, with the dead calm, longs for
the red passion of your blood and
the impossible brown haze of your eyes
in the depths of my hands fell aching
for the hours stripped of all thoughts
but keeping you still, unaltered, untouched
begging the fluttering, hastening wind
to carry your kisses over waters.
synapses | sonnet three
i would want your synapses…
your beginnings, your springs,
your winter solstice, your indian
summers, your parched
summer twilights, i want the
littlest things that create you,
the swift, subtle realities
made tangible by your kind
and gentle soul, i want the
nuances and eccentricities you
dislike about yourself so i may
gather them one by one and
embrace them, as if they were
my own, as if they were a part of me.
your beginnings, your springs,
your winter solstice, your indian
summers, your parched
summer twilights, i want the
littlest things that create you,
the swift, subtle realities
made tangible by your kind
and gentle soul, i want the
nuances and eccentricities you
dislike about yourself so i may
gather them one by one and
embrace them, as if they were
my own, as if they were a part of me.
synapses | sonnet two
remembering the long, miserable
days of being without the light
that basks me suddenly, restlessly
hungrily, sheepishly aching
for a second, a synapse, a moment
a day starving naked in the
open light, universes break
in silence, that collects itself
in conundrum, that seeks the
sweetness of your stares and the
succulence of your lips,
that spins into an unending
illusion of suns and stars, of heavenly
bodies that orbit around your smile.
days of being without the light
that basks me suddenly, restlessly
hungrily, sheepishly aching
for a second, a synapse, a moment
a day starving naked in the
open light, universes break
in silence, that collects itself
in conundrum, that seeks the
sweetness of your stares and the
succulence of your lips,
that spins into an unending
illusion of suns and stars, of heavenly
bodies that orbit around your smile.
synapses | sonnet one
in the lack of tangible things
to describe you, i shall attempt
to wrap your nakedness with the
haze of words, and what they
ought to mean in this universe,
when shadows were what it all was,
silhouettes tangle themselves in
the night with the hovering scent
of passion drenched wildly with
fire, the oranges and reds of this
memory swinging back and forth
to frames of dreams and reality,
the beating seconds harbored by
the delight of punctuations.
to describe you, i shall attempt
to wrap your nakedness with the
haze of words, and what they
ought to mean in this universe,
when shadows were what it all was,
silhouettes tangle themselves in
the night with the hovering scent
of passion drenched wildly with
fire, the oranges and reds of this
memory swinging back and forth
to frames of dreams and reality,
the beating seconds harbored by
the delight of punctuations.
xxxv
this year, i promised myself and my lifetime that it will all be different. it was a plan which took three months to complete, and as mentioned in a post last may, i really didn't want to say much about it until she has seen them.
so it was a multitude things, my thoughts and words, included. all i wanted was to give her something for each year that i wasn't there, and told her never to dislike the notion of getting older, because it took me twenty-seven years to be with her.
this is for you, my lifetime.
so it was a multitude things, my thoughts and words, included. all i wanted was to give her something for each year that i wasn't there, and told her never to dislike the notion of getting older, because it took me twenty-seven years to be with her.
this is for you, my lifetime.
basking in the rain
just took my lifetime to work, and instead of sleeping, i am blogging. the weather is crazy (when has it not been?!) and i couldn't go out and smoke, and thought things were going hopeless until a thought sprung from my mind - why don't i check if i can connect to the office wi-fi. and voila! i am instantly preoccupied.
just ranting because it is june again. again. which means i have but a few days left. i am turning a year older again. but these days instead of feeling 'misplaced' or 'lost' or 'angry,' i usually just find myself in awe of the year that has been, the blessings i have been given, the things i had to overcome, the tears and laughter in between, the countless coffee cups with my wife and the endless thanks for being found and having found her.
so it has been a year. almost. or something like that. it has been a year and i am standing still, with my life and dreams and hopes clearer than ever before. it has been a year and my heart still seek to know more about a love that embraces me, and i know i will. it has been a year and i am ever so grateful for giving the last year to me, and all the years ahead.
just ranting because it is june again. again. which means i have but a few days left. i am turning a year older again. but these days instead of feeling 'misplaced' or 'lost' or 'angry,' i usually just find myself in awe of the year that has been, the blessings i have been given, the things i had to overcome, the tears and laughter in between, the countless coffee cups with my wife and the endless thanks for being found and having found her.
so it has been a year. almost. or something like that. it has been a year and i am standing still, with my life and dreams and hopes clearer than ever before. it has been a year and my heart still seek to know more about a love that embraces me, and i know i will. it has been a year and i am ever so grateful for giving the last year to me, and all the years ahead.
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