Tag Archives: love poetry

Clara’s Song

Clara and the Nutcracker.

The clock strikes
12, and once more,
the room is still. Even the
moon knows that
it is nearly time
to hear the pitter and the patter
of the mouse army
that has come to invade and take
you away from me. But
you should know that
I would never let them,
even if I had had you
for barely a day. For
you hold my heart now. I
have known — since that first
glance, and by the time we danced
around the tree, with your hard–
wood body wrapped in
my hands’ embrace — not even
the evil Mouse King and
his zealous wrath could take you away.

I will follow you, to save you.
Even if it means leaving
behind this world, to enter your
world of eternal snow.


For You

The sky is emptier than the last
time we were together. Sitting
beneath a walkway, You and I
speaking in undertones we didn’t
even understand. Not
because we didn’t try harder,
but because listening was not an option.
at that time. Just staring
into seemingly blank spaces
of whiteness and dark spheres.

At that time. That was enough.

Now, those moments don’t exist
as before. The stillness disturbed by
unspoken undertones remain– still.
Only the staring into blank spaces
continue. But the whiteness
and dark spheres has finally disolved into–


Not my photograph.

Claws for nails, hands that
clamp love at first.
Set up that final need
for lust. Gains trust, harder,
deeper, betraying even myself.
Why do I want you so? Closer,
until the faint embers of yellowed eyes
are all I see before you
take in that final deep breath.
Even humming birds fall into your trap

— goddess of rebirth flawlessly
populating the drying earth.
Glorious skies, with hands folded,
as if in eternal prayer.

Love, Lie Still…

Valentine’s Day is over, but since February is considered as the month of love, I believe that it is appropriate to share this wonderful poem written by none other than the “Love Woman” herself, Ophelia A. Dimalanta. 

Love, Lie Still…

What the body wants
Is the fecundity of forests
And not the forgetfulness
Of sedatives, the hinterlands’
Brief spreading, fluffs of clouds
Alighting noiselessly
Upon the shanks of space,
Skies shaped upon awnings
Of nights, bland breasts
Inevitably resting upon mindless
Hands… just there, serenely
Dreaming, so naturally together.

This unthinking laying of flesh
Upon flesh is honest speech
Caught still in the middle
Of a lie… this is the beginning
Of the truest voyage to the other
Secret zones, access into
The most intimate places.
Let us lie no more, glaze, pad up,
Camouflage in various subterfuges
The color of our helplessness.

Let us be sane before
We even start to dissemble,
Pick up from this erstwhile
Void as if we never minded.
Let this wilderness in us
Not ever begin to seek a clearing,
Knowing the impossibility
Of discerning the line
Between the lie of silences
And the truth of utterance,
The lie of naked complicity
And the declarations of sheathed faiths.

Let us lie, still as time,
Conspirator,stands by
As still, looking smugly
Shrewdly the other way.

Let us not ever speak again
Of the fictions and collusions
Of true love so-called;
Our instincts have been punished
Enough; let us now get on
With our lives and ever
So quietly naturally move
Into each other, and
Into the heart of need.

About the poet:

Ophelia A. Dimalanta (1932-2010) was a poet, writer, editor, and teacher. Being one of the Philippines’ premier writers, she has published books on poetry, prose, drama, and literary criticism.

Because of Love (Translated)

So I tried translating an old Tagalog poem, and this is what I came up with. Since I still don’t know how the art of translation works, I did this by reading each stanza and writing down what I think the stanza means.


And so I conclude, that all things
lead to melancholia,
When sorrow blooms, and fragrant rose
gardens serve as nests of mourning
Leading me to think of this world as nothing
but an empty grave.
For Yesterday, you were my poison.

In my eyes, I see
nothing else but pure pleasure.
Even graveyards — far and desolate,
seem like beautiful gardens of solace;
and to me, the world seems even
smaller than my resolve.
As Today, I aim for glory.

But who can, pray tell, show
me what my future would bring?
When life is but a boat
rocked by angry waves on a stormy sea,
in a place filled with laughter and tears.
Leave a hint of hope in a crooked world,
where Tomorrow, is just another game of chance..

Here is the original:

by Iñigo Ed. Regalado

Sa tingin ko’y tila pawang kalumbayan
ang inihahandog ng lahat ng bagay,
pati ng mabangong mga bulaklakan
ay putos ng luksa at pugad ng panglaw;
akala ko tuloy itong Daigdigan
ay isang mallit na libingan lamang.
Mangyari, Kahapon
ang dulot mo’y lason.

Sa mga mata ko ay pawang ligaya
ang inihahandog ng bawa’t makita,
pati ng libingang malayo’t ulila
wari’y halamanang pugad ng ginhawa;
sa aking akala’y tila maliit pa
itong Daigdigan sa aking panata.
Papaano, Ngayo’y
nagwagi ang layon.

Sino baga kaya ang makatatatap
ng magiging guhit nitong ating palad?
Ang buhay ng tao ay lunday sa dagat
na inaamihan at hinahabagat;
itong Daigdigan ay isang palanas
na nabibinhian ng lungkot at galak.
Bukas! Ang pag-asa’y
mahirap mataya…

So, what do you think?

Two Poems

Spontaneous Combustion

She sat by the window and watched

the migrating doves

of brown flutter by,

their feathers filling the view with

dandelion clocks

inviting her to make

a wish. She whispered

the words into the air –

but the fire consumed her, reducing her to ashes

before she could even finish.

Stars and the Moon

Take time to ponder in solitude

while walking under

the light of the full moon.

Let the trees create

silhouettes with their leaves, figures that dance

with the chime of the wind – creating

shadows of familiar faces. But never forget

about the stars even if moonlight is enough,

for they would never leave

once the moon