"The Poets Might Disagree" Poetry

“if the weather would ever be so kind”

I saw you; sitting slowly like a damp, ragged cloth thrown at the corners. By looking at the way you gaze I thought it borders— your belief in time and space; as everything stopped for a moment to embrace life's menace. You, timely, shifts your stares at your surroundings, and I know you thought that everything seemed to be unfazed by your grumblings. The noises, the chattering, the sway of the trees, it seemed oblivious to the things you faces; and as the lump at your throat are unbeknownst I know that hatred inside you arises. You, timely, gaze upon the skies— and the melancholia you felt did not correspond at the weather's pries. No clouds are on your sight, and Soleil seemed like he was guarding the Heaven and the souls' plight. How could everything be so light, therapeutic, and beautiful? When at the time you felt like life's dragging you around and breaking your bones by ten fold? If the weather would ever be so kind (and you hope that it doesn't mind), that it'll guide you by the hand on what to see, what to envision; so that you'd understand why in every melancholic episodes the weather is in opposition.

“maybe the world did end that day”

I’m staring at an empty wall / while the flowers bloomed behind me. / The abyssal pain of this pit where I fall / is endless; and will never free me. / And maybe my soul is just lost, / and it just wanders in the wilderness. / But the fairness of it all is the cost, / and the realization I succumbed to is bitterness. / They asked me how I was / and the thorns I held restricted my throat / and it forced me to lie, to lie, to lie just because / it hurts to say while the past is afloat. / Forced me to say “the world didn't end that day when I failed” / like it was nothing; while the birds laugh from the nest / while my eyes water and my lips paled, / as fooling myself is what I do best. / “(a) have you lost your confidence?” / “(b) are you disappointed in yourself?” / “(c) is it incompetence?” / “(d) do you dislike yourself?” / I held onto that paper like my life depended / “they see right through me” fear is what I mumble and say; / and tears came running like it was never apprehended / and maybe the world did end that day. /

“i hate everything this universe possesses”

I hate how every drizzle of rain nourishes every leaves and roots there is. I hate how every droplet of rain could be the epitome of your long-lasting tears. I hate how overbearing the bite of a morning is. I hate how your soul intertwines with the morning mist. I hate how the west wind passes by. I hate those colorful tints from the sky. I hate how your coal-colored hair dances with the wind. I hate how tender it seemed. I hate how the dusk gives everyone serenity. I have how your dark brown eyes reflect the beauty of reality. I hate how those fluffy-looking clouds carry the heaviest loads. I hate how your beautiful yet fake smiles appear so broad. I hate how the earth's soil appears lumpy and soft to the touch. I hate how your scars define your hardships as a beauty patch. I hate how the darkness of the night is blotted by those piercing, twinkling little stars. I hate how your skin could rival the fur of the polars. I hate the aquagreen beauty of the Mediterranean. I hate how you surpass every terrain. I hate the calmness of the music of a waterfall. I hate how life would take its toll.

I hate how the universe could've given you to me… and yet it didn't.

OOC: I hate this piece, like I terribly despised this piece. She's so broken hearted. Oi, it ain't that darn hard!

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Iyong pagsayaw sa hangin,
Ang masayang pagtingin
Ng mata mong nagniningning
Kahit pa nga sabihin

Na hindi kita maabot;
Kalimutan ang salimuot
Ng kahapong umaabot
Sa mga kamay mong malambot.

Kumpas ng iyong mga kamay
Tila ang tugtog at pagsayaw
Ay iyo na ring gamay,
Musika tila sumasabay.

“stars ≠ to your scars”

You once looked out at the universe from the rooftop / thinking how big it is makes you feel insignificant. / The crushing weight of it makes you stop at the doorstop, / and you know compared to them you were never magnificent. / You never shone like the stars / and astronomers will never be interested. / You will always notice the scars / and will never be praised to the nearest end. / But you met him unexpectedly / under the constellation of Sagittarius. / “He’s different,” you muttered reflectively / and you glared at his request of alliance. / But the sparkle in his eyes was wondrous / and he held you like a significant star / you peered at his eyes; expecting tundras / but the love in his eyes was never far.

would you say “i love that about you”?

I hoped that clouds would never rain on the softest side of your bed, / but I immediately bared my teeth as soon as you tried to reach for my hand. / But no matter how I try to, / I could never hate that star you showed me / and no matter how I want to, / I could never hate that pillar of hope you built for me. / My hands bled for freedom, and if I smudged that to your pristine clothes, / would you say, “I love that about you”? / and if my shadows danced at the paths you could never follow; at the roads / would you say, “I love that about you”?

OOC: Shortest, because this is one of the unfinished ones.

“over the timeless fence”

You laughed when you were asked, / “what would you have said to your younger self?” / and all the pain you almost forgot and masked / spilled the skeletons you kept inside your shelf. / You barely dodged the sickening question, / saying, “such questions are just childish.” / but the night after you never slept at the suggestion, / wondering whether the child was waiting over the timeless fence. / That kid has bright eyes and is always alone, / has curious gaze and loved the flowers that grow in her grandma’s backyard; / bearing a heart of gold while the realities are unknown / and always wearing the innocence in her card. / She was always so different from the mountains, / and the mountain flowers blamed and condemned her. / She cried over millions of water fountains, / thinking no one will ever accept her. / That image stomps your prettiest gardens / because you always wished that you stay that way / but life was never forgiving in the terrains / so the flowers you grow just decay. / In bed, you muttered, “if no one appreciated you, I will,” / “you should never mind what they all say, I will come to your defense,” / “to be different is to require such skill.” / and that kid smiled over the timeless fence.

Reducio

OOC: “But no matter how I try to (Mm), and no matter how I want to (Mm), and no matter how easy things could be if I did, and no matter how guilty I still feel saying it: I wish I hated you, I wish that weren't true, wish there was worse to you, I wish you were worse to me. Yeah, I wish I hated you.” i wish i hated you // Ariana Grande.

Dung, I just woke and I feel like crying for no reason.

“collecting seashells”

“your lampshade is everything but yellow”

My subconscious undeniably saw you / holding your lampshade carefully whilst it flickers; / your eyes empty - reflecting the lampshade's hue / and the ghost behind you watching as it snickers. / I noticed that your lampshade changes colors / depending on your waves - hard to narrow, / but I know it's different from the others / because your lampshade is everything but yellow. My glass heart inevitably breaks within / and the ghost behind is annoyingly snickering / as I know it is the cause of your suffering, / as the tears in your eyes heartbreakingly gleaming. / Your body trembles whenever the darkness prevails / and it aches me because I couldn't help; / it aches me too when I hear your harmless wails / and waves crash me when my feet seem to melt. / Why is it everything but yellow? / Why does the ghost still haunts you? / Because your sadness never mellow / and the ghost stays behind you.

“your soul, your soul longs for it”

constant need to search for scents no longer linger
on pillowcases you thought it would stay on,
every time you do, you couldn't keep a whimper,
as blankets constricts you from memories long gone.

these windowpanes are blurred; you're afraid to break
these windows never opened, even a bit,
and you wondered how much glass shards it has to take
for this house to see you; ‘cause your soul longs for it.

how much precious is this; videotapes never suffice
you forgot that voice, which throws you in a fit,
you went to the attic to obtain weathered keys
to unlock pasts; and your soul, your soul longs for it.