Flipped Serendipity

Set Sail!

by

2023, napowrimo, poetry

Lay down the sails, raise the anchor,
on the journey we go. To where? To where
all the anxious sailors go. Off the harbor,
atop the waves, into the ocean we oar.

Where’s the heading, where do we go?
The moon in our sails, see it wax so;
we’ll point the sails to the stars we follow,
leave the ship in the currents’ tow.

To the end of the earth, the end of time,
we sail for dreams too high to climb.
In our dream of dreams, forgive our crimes
to our past selves and how we lost our prime.

We’ll sail and sail off the horizon
in regrets and hopes. Finding lost passion
where we lost hope, toward the sun
clueless to when and where we’ll find land.

So lay the sails, raise the anchor,
and on the journey we go. You now know where,
let your problems go. Off the harbor,
into the ocean, our hopes be our oar.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A sea shanty.

by

poetry

longing
tears dry
arid.

unanswered
questions ask

unrequited.

The Observer Effect

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2023, napowrimo, poetry

She’s a ray of light—you never know
what to expect. How can she not see
what I want her to, but see those
I don’t mind as much? Like sailing at sea
and beaching on a whale, I’m a bit lost.

I’m stuck in a forest undecided on spring
or autumn. Caught by dogged petrichor,
the brief silences between birds singing
leaves melancholy like tea turned bitter
from being too hot or left too long brewing.

It takes careful attention to make tea;
you can’t let it steep for too long,
or you’ll ruin it more than slightly.
Even the temperature can’t be too wrong
or you’ll run it aground very quickly.

“Angelica”, echoing off Broadway,
“by your side”, “satisfied.” Maybe
you’ll find yourself talking in a way
you don’t hear yourself. Maybe see
where you got lost and find what to say.

The silence blinds me; like parang I
know what to do but reality gets
in the way and the noise flashes by
that stuns the rest of the world quiet.
And in darkness, she passes by.

NaPoWriMo 2023. An attempt on the Twenty Little Poetry Projects. I did my best to get all twenty, but this is at most 16. Less if we’re really strict on the scope of each.

A list of things to do

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2023, napowrimo, poetry

This is a list of things I have to do;
I have to keep them listed down
so I don’t forget plus I get a reminder too.

If I don’t list this down, I’d forget and
do a whole other list of things that get my
attention and I’ll have done nothing in the end.

I list these down to keep my memory
or better yet as replacement for my mind
that’s off to its own world in another story.

At which point, I have to go all the way down
the rabbit hole and do my best to get my
mind back from the from—guess where—my own mind.

Now where was I? Right, so I have this list of things to do…

NaPoWriMo 2023. A poem that plays on the idea of a list.

Maybe

by

2023, napowrimo, poetry

Maybe the cards weren’t played right
and maybe even stacked against us.
Maybe we weren’t meant to be
and gold dust in the end is still dust.
Maybe the distance is too much for a leap of faith
and in our own hearts we lacked trust.
Maybe it would just be a bad ending we didn’t want to see
but also maybe I’d have wanted to be with you even at the dusk.

NaPoWriMo 2023. Off-prompt.

Dancing Solo

by

2023, napowrimo, poetry

It’s a table full of drinks to signal night of fun
and the man danced like there’s no tomorrow
to the music of the young, wild and free. 
With the beats of the song, he danced in solo;
with steps full of energy and passion—
between gulps of alcohol from lonesome’s sorrow—
he spurred none but himself only.

NaPoWriMo 2023. An attempt to walk the edge of sorrow and reprieve.

A Triplet of Triolets

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2023, napowrimo, poetry

Charades

Love, it’s a matter of timing;
be in the right place, the right time,
and hope you’re both not just playing
love. It’s a matter of timing,
of what to say and stuck trying
to play charades—muted. To mime
love, it’s a matter of timing;
be in the right place, the right time.

Poems About Us

In time, we’ll write poems about us,
of fate and how the stars aligned
right and we’ll try to make it just
in time. We’ll write poems about us
and how we went our own ways. As
paths cross, memories stay confined
in time. We’ll write poems; about us,
of fate, and how the stars aligned.

Under the Stars

We lie under the stars hoping
that this moment lasts forever.
We’ll let loose sweet words denying
we lie. Under the stars, hoping
that we are each other’s ending
is but one more wish. Together
we lie under the stars—hoping
that this moment lasts forever.

NaPoWriMo 2023. Triolets.

Fun Fact 2: Electric Bugaloo

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2023, napowrimo, poetry

Fun fact: I’m living life.
I sleep after every driving passion;
numb to exhaustion.

Fun fact: manufacture date means the end of the process;
it’s not the start of an item’s definition
but of the end of production.

Fun fact: life is all still in progress.

NaPoWriMo 2023. A response to my poem a couple days ago. More fun facts.

Found

by

2023, napowrimo, poetry

A guide for the unwary.
                        Rivers,
the longing of the earth for the sea
To seek the soft within the hard
in the tears of an actor
                         pretending
       that it’s still just an act
as gentle as the waves amidst a storm.
   The song.

NaPoWriMo 2023. On the words, generator, river, oyster, salt, and song.

Where is it?

by

2023, napowrimo, poetry

It’s a struggle to find the red string
among tangled threads that make up
the tapestry of life. 

                      Like a lost feeling
among an amalgam of emotions held up
by the humdrum of everyday life.

And it’s getting harder to pretend
that there is a red string
when it all seems colorless.

NaPoWriMo 2023. Inspired by the book cover of The Loom of Destiny. Arthur Stringer. Boston: Small, Maynard & Company, 1899