Sunday, May 27, 2007

Unhatched poetry

Dear Readers:

I don't mean to deject from the structured journalism that this website is meant to be. Instead, it is only a way of breaking the monotony of reading so much about things now pestering most of us as we carry on with our lives. And perhaps, there is good reason to find an alternative genre--an outlet for the soul.

Thanks and happy reading!!!

R.G. Altarejos
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Unhatched poetry

sometimes,
in my languid hours
creeps emptiness,
yes, it is.
devoid of flesh,
but lifeless shadows
i could only figure out in dreams.

sometimes,
it helps to be alone
cause the gods have slumbered
in my fevered moment,
while fervent wishes of a new day
strikes me
like a bolt of lightning,
paralyzing my bones.
the longing pierced the soul,
yes, the soul in me
now filled with the tapestry of hopes
like ephemeral traces in the pristine sand
yet, i find satisfaction in seeing your fresh pink lips
herald the break of a new day.
those smooth tresses
as glowing feathers of a peacock
that metamorphosed from the grip of your soft hands

does it matter now
if i succumb to the calls of the night birds?
still my thoughts wander
and i couldn't find an appropriate answer,
only from the breeze
as i inhale the heave of your sighs:
the rhythm of your griefs
now insulated in the verses of
an unhatched poetry.

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