Lo and Behold, I’ve Become a Poet

Don’t take them seriously. I’ve had the most pleasure on my lyrical attempts, though. And I’m sharing them here. 😀

For every stirring line that i write
for every radiant sun that has set
my heights will reach for no end.
As I’m no Virginia
I could only remain one
and simple for you. 

– geena, may8,2018, revised journal entry

Bright gentle moonlight
shape to his shy wild stanzas
touching one’s secrets
shining down my fresh sonnets
glow in me forevermore

– geena, tanka, june2018

When I slowly run my fingers on every part of your face
my past, my present and future open up within your eyes
I recall the taste of honey and the sensation of a teenage love
I am more and more mesmerized by the swaying greens on trees
You know my hungers and thirsts without sudden retreat
for they both rise with the sun and fly with those doves
My lips reach for yours and their soft touch will surrender
to the waters of the river and the ballads of the spring. I’ll write
you a letter from my heart and the flowers will always be in bloom
From where your sweet arms wrap around me, I can stop fighting 
with my fate because your kisses have already taken me home.

– geena, 23june2018

If I could name the pure fragrance from my fingers that touched your face, my plush words to build this realm would be complete. Like timeless pieces of myself I would like you to have, they will linger through the lungs of our lyrical breaths.

– geena, 22may2018

Image may contain: Marjorie de Leon Mamaradlo, car and outdoor

My story gets written
and the world will listen
for the deeds of my past
were all rain, all wind, all sun.
I’ll find you in my dreams
and my diction will be clear
all good, so pure, so real.
With my salvation on love
from songs all night long
I feel fully alive, but I’m not
sure if I’ll truly be alright.

– geena, 21june2018

Image may contain: Marjorie de Leon Mamaradlo, smiling, plant, tree, outdoor and nature

Across the light of the earth giving birth to this hour
I hold your hand firm against the wall of my heart;
I meet the arrow of your gaze spreading life in me
and the morning smiles all around; full of joy over
a love being blessed by the prince of the sun.

– geena, 11june2018

Image may contain: sky, cloud, mountain, outdoor and nature
Tagaytay city, feb 2018

orange cream at dusk
full blend of deep elegance
stretching heaven’s worth

 geena, haikujune2018

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from out of time – 1

GLOW

His favorite song starts

playing in another room

and the faint sound breezes

into my ear

A simple memory comes into view,

like a faithful glow

quiet and slow in its flow…

My hand lifts up

aiming to catch meaning

But the light sails away…away from my fingers

drifting past a heart

that’s evading to remember

though lingering still

around the breath and feel

of the music which keeps

him near.

Falling from a Star

— geena, july 2017

she vagabond

Nothing much to define the universe

that holds the certainty whether she belongs

so she wishes for a world somewhere

where long letters are written to make flowers bloom

where love mysteries are pondered for a hundred years,

always spellbound by some gracious moon

and the morning sun that smiles in her room

Her very being the only home she’s come to know

sheltering a timid heart that’s now grown old

Though she’s bound to meet the twilight soon

the promise of unknown regions

glint to be discovered

This much alive, intense and present

the vagabond is set free forevermore.

pic2 — geena, june 2017

Source

simply missing you…

You are this heart’s prose in a rose,

the room in my mind

lucid in all its feelings

that keeps the soul in each poem,

the essence in  every meaningful essay.

What if tomorrow begins its relapse

as soon as the color of your

words turn to rust

caused by uncertainties barely clinging

yet persisting

upon a surface where

no secret could be hunted.

 

Don’t let it fade

don’t let it break

Will the road end with your love or hate?

 

I need no wealth from your mind

nor the touch of gold from your rhymes.

They aren’t what I came here for.

But the light of the star that

flows from your sun perhaps

is what I’ve burned for.

Like you may never get to know

how you’ve always been

the city I would always long

to get lost in

the city I’d always love

to go home to.

*****

– geena, aug 2016

tumblr_obvq1okfax1qcggg7o1_1280
source: touchyonbeam, Tumbler

maybe a prose but never a poem (4)

wow1

 

You ask why I set foot at places

where you exhale

your thoughts, your ravings,

your private jeremiads

and you can only look at me

for the silence that comes after

maybe you’re able to divine the answer

how it’s simply the closest I’ve gotten

to laying my eyes on you

begetting a tenderness

that’s hard to construe.

You may cite my harbor for craft

which is beyond my league

although it’s a mistake to think

there’s anything from you I might need.

There’s nary an end within

to cull the gems I’ve set in your esteem

and despite those words I shouldn’t have tried to read

I could only extend my hand to you,in peace.

Because the traces of where this heart has thus been

I still have no want to peel.

– geena 2016

Ode To A Beautiful Writer

My thoughts rise with the night

and you are the secret glow within

from where the light of these words flow

your sensibilities, your solitariness

the scars in your heart,

raw, ruthless, lingering

like the breath of a storm

that eases no tide against

the expanse of slumber, sorrow, or hope.

 

There are times I can’t grasp the strength of your prose

but then, no sky is bereft of its beautiful lightning

even the stars have become more captivating

when shining above the metaphor of your passions.

 

Still, I would want nothing

more than to see you heal,

lose the impulse that leads to your fall in spirit

as your sentiments and stories grow incandescent

when you walk between the streets of love and pain.

                 *********

– geena, january 2016

cropped-roseglass.jpg

A Few More Verses From An Old Soul Like Me

I guess I’d better share some more of my short verses here. What am I gonna do with them anyway. Some aren’t about love, though I could write verses of that kind every minute of my day. But I didn’t want to nauseate my readers so I tried to come up with something else. They tend to be namby-pamby still. Hope you’ll like them as well.

 

      The hues that take on a magical glow

       dovetailing the surrender of dawn

       leaves me in a shadow of light

       that bends my way to the grandest day

                    -o-o-o-o-

        My real string of pearls

        are words printed down on paper

        either seeking my eyes’ perusal

        or inspiring me to write my own truth.

                    -o-o-o-o-

         She might have paid too heavy a price

         for the gray skies that drifted upon her.

         Yet she trudges further along..

         hoping that maybe, just maybe,      

         a little chocolate, some pasta and a kitten’s love

         are all waiting for her at the end of the rainbow.

                         -o-o-o-o-