Filtered Precipitates

2011-12-21T07:57:00.001+07:00

candlelight Christmas

carols comforting cold cheeks

cathedral's cobwebs

/totomai

Japanese Doll

2011-12-05T06:59:00.001+07:00

The glass room protects your porcelain skin

against the rays of the rising sun;

bends them to my eyes.

That rainbow halo, a magic of light,

on your face begins my day.

Each morning, before traditional duelswith the teacup,

I crawl, over the futon,

toward you to become enthralled

by the kanzashi on your hair.

The pink hue on your face mirrors

the floral kimono you wear.

How I wish I was the pillow on your back

or the paper fan that your delicate hand holds.

When the moon is out,

your silhouetteassures me of a good night's sleep.

In dreamland, I could be a Japanese doll too,

with a heart-shaped foreheadand a katana to safeguard you.

Under the cherry blossoms,

you whisper

sayonara

that word wakes me up;

now, pieces of glass and porcelaincover the wooden floor;

only the kanzashi, paper fan

and kimono remain whole.

/totomai

S

2011-11-20T12:43:00.001+07:00

skies silently screams

spews, searches stranded spirits

souls seeking solace

/totomai

One-Winged Angels

2011-11-06T21:49:00.002+07:00

One-winged Angels

he, a one-winged angel,

strolls in a kaleidoscopic world,

his cinnamon eyes

seek the other half of his feathered limb;

she, a one-winged angel too,

also strolling in a kaleidoscopic world,

meets his cinnamon eyes,

sees the resemblance of her feathered limb;

then, together they fly

towards the cloudless azure skies.

/totomai

Distilling Thoughts

2011-11-01T10:57:00.002+07:00

Distilling Thoughts

i blog my life's breath
its unceasing caravan
refillable ink

i shoot the commons
framed against passing moments
chorus of shutters

i distill thoughts too
haikus, poems and essays
a trustworthy muse

a frozen stylus
webbed camera on the chair
a negative space

illumination
a duet of clicks and quills
rebirth of ideas

/totomai

Paper Planes

2008-09-12T21:30:00.001+07:00

Paper Planes
for Vincent 1977-2003

Carelessly, you climbed
the rusty roofs, held tightly
to the weary limbs of a guava tree.

Like a five-year-old, you wouldn't stay
put - folded the newspapers
into lop-sided gliders.

You challenged the airplanes,
let go of artificial ZZOOOMMMMs!
and tried to touch the sky.

One day, you took control
of a real plane, held tightly
to the yoke, observed the altimeter.

It wasn't like flying papers,
you were nearer to the skies
a dream realized at twenty-five.

Were you playing when you zoom
through the blues
and the emotionless clouds?

You found it a hard landing.

/totomai

Bus Ride

2008-06-16T15:29:00.002+07:00

Bus Ride

I press my cheek on the window and hum
a Beatles song; an array of real-life
slides flashes before me.

A feathered tribe appears from cirrus heaven
circling dawn-tinted mountains;
the flutter of wings beats time
of the breeze in the daffodils.

Drizzle animates the quiet lagoon,
retreats only after a curve of seven
colors marks on the sky.

The sky dims, with nothing left
to view. A chorus of frogs, cicada and crickets
fills the air and the lullaby
of Mother Wind cradles me in sleep.

I rub my eyes,
deafening silence welcomes me. I yawn
with bags in tow and force
my feet off the bus.

/totomai

Still

2008-06-08T23:10:00.002+07:00

Still

fingers yearn for warmth
from the mouth of the cup
or the smoke from your lips

red petals fall
wake up the slumber
of a hot tea
earlier
still

/totomai

On A Poet's Desk During Winter

2008-05-19T16:20:00.000+07:00

On A Poet's Desk During Winter

The raspberry candle
melts the web from unexplored volumes,
warms the green tea in manila cup
--- now cold and stationary.

Paper balls fall from the desk,
avoid the slumber of cigarettes;
the quill remains silent
its ink --- frozen.

/totomai

Hammock

2008-05-11T23:49:00.001+07:00

Hammock

You were the hammock ---
when my world was moonless
until pastel-colored stars shone
on me. You swayed me against the threats
of seasons, never tired holding
the weave of love.

I hold onto the weave of love,
won’t be tired to sway you safely
against the threats of seasons.
As ashen stars crowd over you,
until your world be moonless ---
I am your hammock.

/totomai

Lab Life

2008-05-05T23:58:00.003+07:00

Lab Life

The Tripod

All my life, I am a missionary. I reach
out to the common tao, prioritize their needs
over mine. This is my destiny.
Amen.

The Flask

I am a catwalk vamp, my fragile body's
flawless. A single and permanent wrinkle
means the end of my career. Too soon
to be categorized as has been.

The Bunsen Burner

Like a paid lover, I only provide
what is expected of me. Call me
a professional user, I can live with that.
Purely business, no more, no less.

The Wire Gauze

The loyal bodyguard, that's me.
I'd rather be the one jabbed instead
of my client. I'll repel the infiltration
of hostile forces. All in my hands.

The Stirring Rod

I cast a spell every now and then.
A single wave transforms a transparent liquid
to aqua blue, then lavender
or renders it invisible. Magic.

/totomai

Palm-sized Garden

2008-04-26T02:33:00.001+07:00

Palm-sized Garden

9 AM Yesterday

A white-gowned gardener cleared
the fragile field of yellow-orange soil.
He sprinkled gelatinous seeds
on the arid ground; sealed the garden,
nothing can enter.

9 AM Today

The white-gowned gardener prepares
the cropping of metallic green shrubs
but not to generate another million.
He slowly harvests and transfers
them to an open prairie
of antibiotics.

/totomai

Room For Rent

2008-04-18T23:04:00.005+07:00

Room For Rent

Reserve this room for me, Daddy,
no Disney characters in it, only
maroon curtains. But it is okay.
Would that be fine?

Anything you ask, son,
I’ll look over you while you rest.
Look at the lights, like the neon stickers;
just relax, tomorrow’s a big day.

Thanks, Daddy,
Would you drive me towards the camp?
I can’t forget the first time I rode with you
in our red Volkswagen.

Just as promised, son,
everybody seems happy to welcome you,
see that green tent
with your name in gold letters?

Very clear, Daddy,
got to go now, the place is dark
but I know the trek
on this alley is short.

Hush now, son,
go on, enjoy your new place;
I’ll visit you everyday
on this Camp of Silence.

/totomai

------------------------

how would the parents feel if their child will leave the world ahead of them?

Scars of War Children

2008-04-14T07:03:00.001+07:00

Scars of War Children

mementos...
carelessly carved
within their marrow
by senseless combats.

mementos...
always evoking replays
only to stop haunting
the very moment
their tombs are erected!

/totomai

54

2008-03-29T09:01:00.002+07:00

54

She walked on bent knees,
held a rosary in her right hand
with eyes partially opened.

"Its been 18 years since our marriage", she whispered,
"my body will be weak soon".
Black hair shot with gray streaks
covered her as she bowed before the Crucifix.

She wept on her husband's shoulder,
"It will never happen".
"Everything will be fine", he assured
with a kiss on her forehead.

Next thing she knew ---
she just delivered a baby.

She was 54

/totomai

Ghost Singer

2008-03-20T22:17:00.001+07:00

Ghost Singer

Behind stage curtains,
she performed melodic arias of spring.
Her sterling voice echoed
through the dense auditorium.

Now, behind steel curtains,
she renders a shrill coloratura twittering.
Fortissimo of pathos melodies
resonates through the asylum.

/totomai

Lament of A Rubber Tree

2008-03-15T12:33:00.001+07:00

Lament of A Rubber Tree

The glint of your bolo was an omen;
as its blade scored my skin, you funneled
viscous blood, sold and stored it
in exchange for rupees and ringgits.

Every two days for thirty years,
if not you, your sons, returned,
sliced another portion until my batiked body
exuded nothing.

I may die now in the burning sun,
soon be a memory,
but am still with you ---
in sheaths that protects, in balls
and dolls your children play with;
even in my clones, synthetics.

I still breathe. I still bleed

/totomai

Dream House

2008-03-09T18:23:00.004+07:00

Dream House

I can make my own ---
not the houses sketched by architects
and arranged by interior designers.

I do not need a thermal roof,
a couple of rusty GI sheets
with used rubber tires as weights would do.

I care less about marble floors,
French windows and sliding doors;
I'll use smoked plywood
and discarded hollow blocks.

This is the dream I have every night
as I curl like a fetus,
in the careless womb of the city
wrapped in a blanket of newspapers.

/totomai

Madonna and Child

2008-03-02T22:32:00.000+07:00

Madonna and Child

There is a painting
of a mother and child,
in black and white
leaning against the aged bricks
of the cathedral.

There is a painting
of a mother and child
with blank eyes and cracked lips,
stained by the changing seasons.

There is a painting
of a mother and child
outside the church,
seems lifeless,
yet breathing and begging.

/totomai

Frozen

2008-02-22T20:45:00.002+07:00

Frozen Times

The clouds fall from the skies,
light, melancholic and yearning;
dancing with the wind
uninspired and no rhythm.

Frigid trees hold back glacial
tears, as clouds kiss their hairs.
Mute birds, still as statues,
pray for warmth.

Alone, the chair rocks
silent lullabies hush everyone
to sleep. The flames die down,
world is white and
will never melt.

/totomai

I miss winter. lol, I miss Japan too.

Polka Dots

2008-02-17T22:55:00.004+07:00

Polka Dots

The pattern on the callous canvas,
dewy and rose-colored, now
parched and mahogany.

The crammed art piece
avoids the assault
of an unrelenting, forceful stylus.

A launched confrontation
between the two,
every time
a customer hands
a shoe for a fix.

Once again, the stylus
hits my canvas.
Ouch!

/totomai

not exactly an ode but this poem is inspired from a shoemaker's finger.

A Matter of Sibling Rivalry

2008-02-10T21:21:00.000+07:00

Green palms welcomed Him,

mocked soon on the wooden cross

Hail the Robeless king!

towards gray heavens, He smiles

It happens between brothers

/totomai

Start of the lenten season, and being in a non-Christian country, sometimes I forget to commemorate the said event

Little Leah's Leis

2008-02-08T23:01:00.000+07:00

Little Leah's Leis

Every night you see
six-year-old Little Leah
on busy highways.

Sampaguita leis
she vends. A peso or two
for tomorrow's rice.

After a car's kiss,
blooms enwrap her. In heaven,
divine leis, she'll make.

/totomai

this haiku-esque poem was inspired after seeing a documentary about the life of street children, sacrificing their childhood to provide food for their family.