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Imaginary Morning Chat



[www.angelfire.com/ok/cesmillado> 16 Dec 1998
[www.angelfire.com/pq/conper> 7 Jan 1999
[www.angelfire.com/ok/cesmillado> 2:45 a.m.
[www.angelfire.com/pq/conper> 10:36 p.m.


"saan kaya ako dadalhin
ng damdamin kong lasing?"



                                               he makes love to me
silently she breathes her verses
                                               with his poetry
into me, caressing my clattered
                                               laying down his lines
lines to still in the night,
                                               beside my lines
blending her rhymes with mine
                                               crossing metaphors
in a forbidden vigil in space
                                               over my metaphors
and time - rousing a rabble
                                               giving me new pleasures
of penned joys long silenced
                                               with unknown words
by bitter pains now sweetened
                                               giving me new words
in easy characters.
                                               to grasp my pleasures


                                              he makes love to me
her fire i meet with my
                                               with his rhymes
highnoon sun, commencing
                                               often subtle
the season of rains
                                               sometimes wild
in a flooded night,
                                               springing of surprises
and let burst the morning
                                               alien yet kind
of drenched flowers.
                                               passionate yet mild


                                               poem after poem
music are we to the rhythm
                                               we strike at a harmony
of our minds, hummed melodies
                                               both not knowing how
to the beat of our hearts,
                                               a harmony is defined
what notes we shall reap are
                                               or if we want to go on
here strewn in our midnight
                                               with beautiful harvests
glass of worded wine:
                                               in our trembling hands ...


                                               mirror, mirror
reflective of this uni
                                               on the strangest of walls,
verse is the first postulate of
                                               why us?
the theory of us.


to catch a wandering byte,
we all should be in time;
to find a lost character,
we must find a home --
the Net, our abode,
is a resounding metaphor!
--JongCalderon
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