To the Sand, To the howling Winds and beating Sun, To the terrible Heat, the thunderous Rain, To the One Behind it All, Come to me, pray...

Stars shining in the sky Quiet café late at night Kindled with a beautiful lantern Lovers holding hands Content with each other’s...

As I stare at the man Fixing the jacket he treats as a blanket I wonder what misfortune fell his hand To find comfort on 14 degree...

If you are the knife I turn inside myself, I wouldn’t want to taint you with my blood. For the sin of loving me, Is a burden which no one...

do you know what it means to long for something? i do unequivocally and i despise it it is an ugly feeling ghastly and disgusting and...

To the Land of Peace.. Palestine remains, and the other will leave Even if the years and the adversities are long Palestine, even if our...

The pull of the tide— The distant call of a siren’s song— A torrential downpour— A vehement thunder follows— His eyes trained upon the...

Death is depressed in her lanes, Alone she grieves over the unknown graves. She wails as the unshrouded corpse yearns for a goodbye. “My...

Inang Bayan Ko (My Motherland), How does it feel to be blessed? To be able to dance with Idianale in the rice fields, And have Agwe’s...

Have you seen the recent sunset skies? With the cottony clouds and lovely hues? Golds and blues now shimmer in our eyes To herald autumn,...

Loss of judgment, was it the departure of my thoughts? The reckless train keeps moving on With a passenger stranded No ticket, no...

I saw a mystic today, She reminded me of you. The curls of her hair, Reminded me of the waves over your chest Curtains over your bare...

I waited as you told me to. I waited by the windowpane and kept a firm eye on today: today’s skies, the present moment’s beauties, never...

These past two weeks have been a steep rising and steep diving of emotions. What follows is a piece written as the result of this...

I got my ticket I am on my way In the train to nowhere. Got in the economy class The one-seater assigned to one Behind is the local birth...

The sound fills my ears, at once loud and gentle. The sound of your waves inching toward the sand. It drowns out everything else but not...

The detachment from the self Both figurative And literal. My human inclinations No longer addressed. A creature I have become, Monstrous...

Perhaps I don’t have to know where I’m going And for now it is enough that I’m not where I used to be These growing pains are draining me...

Careful constructions made of crystal and glass Held up by hopes and prayers Ready to topple over, ready to change Morph into something...

Emily Dickinson died 134 years ago, having lived out her last years in complete solitude. She had asked her family to burn her poetry...