Charlz dela Cruz

Farewell, Poetry No good can come to a poet People have lost their humanity
She is full of earth
She is full of earth     and bright   and solid
nothing escapes   her light
in her eyes   are dreams,   full    and torrid
wild enough     to touch  and    conquer
 the stars

the wind   asks, where is    the fire?
answer: fire    melts  on her    body
like the waves that   find   the sea
in her hand


and yet   love    is a  mysterious
  sacred   journey
a   pure    divine art

because  if   you   only look   closely
you shall   find    her
  in  my   heart.

You are not of this world

You are not of this world
and yet your beauty fills it
In your quiet space,
you whisper words
that define my existence
You may not know about it
but I know well about it
and it is enough
for all my stars to shine
This is how I search for your meaning
And although I have not seen your face
I know why birds sigh in the morning.

This is a short tale about finding the meaning of life:
“There is a space between the stars just as there is a space between your fingers,” Brother Bear said. “It is the same space that separates us from realizing the meaning of life.”
“What do you mean?” Little Bear asked, licking his paw. “You have to fill this space, and only then can you realize the meaning of life. Journey into the unknown, fight, and be happy,” Brother Bear answered. After a few seconds of silence, Brother Bear recounted the following story— the story of Prince Timotheus and the Witch.

Your eyes are the eyes of the morning That mark new beginnings with your fresh light. By the window, the birds are chirping; And when you look, all things burn bright.
Did the night bury the Sun in your body? Did the graces of the Earth seep through your skin? All that is left for the birds and me Is to bask in your beauty as if we were made of sin.
Now I know why flowers bloom at your touch: You are a rare creature. In perfection, too much — For you are overflowing — wild, wild dreams of nature.

Every night, Mr. Goldfish would cross the sea And sing a song to Ms. Monkey.  He would stay on the shore, and she would listen from her tree.  He sang to her only the sweetest songs, and she spoke to him using poetry.  Although they never understood each other, Their romance lasted for a year or three:
When Mr. Goldfish finally decided to marry his Monkey, She missed her Goldfish and swam across the sea.

To the red-haired woman who lives in the forest of the wild. The trees touch you with their dreams...

She wears not silver Nor shimmering jewels, Nor any fine ornaments, But a flower on her hair, Yet she is more than enough Even without it.  The sun is in her eyes; The moon is breathing on her skin;  When she speaks, the lion sighs.
What beauty does this woman hold?
I once made a garland of roses For her head, and they turned gold.  What pure radiance is she made, what art? O, Queen of my heart.

They warned him that she was mad.  He did not believe them... until she took his heart and started to write poems with his blood. “Do not worry,” she said, “for every poem is stained with a kiss.” She wrote a hundred more. It was a fantasy that was never meant for any human.  But he did not want to let go... until she evoked ghosts and ancient spirits  to hold him tight.  “Do not move,” she whispered.  “I also want to write poems inside your body. If you move, it might hurt more.” She stabbed her golden quill into his skin and wrote until midnight, until there was  no more space in him for another poem.  Tired yet smiling, she asked, “Do you like it?” “Whatever makes you happy,” he groaned,  not knowing if he was dead or alive.  “But, please tell me, do you also love me?” he asked.  She looked at him, her glassy eyes pure and innocent, “I only write because of you, my love. You make me a poet.” Then she kissed him, and at once he knew that their love was true.  She showed him his heart  sweetly beating in her h…

The world was a playground for fools like him Until she came, lily-like in the wind. He had to stop, he had to pause and look: She was a force of nature, A beauty of a fairytale in a book.  And all that he thought was best in the world Began to crumble at her feet.  He stared at her, quietly melting, As she walked past him
Unaware she was glowing.

You are not of this world
and yet your beauty fills it
In your quiet space,
you whisper words
that define my existence
You may not know about it
but I know well about it
and it is enough
for all my stars to shine
This is how I search for your meaning
And although I have not seen your face
I know why birds sigh in the morning.

Live a life full of passion
Tear away conventional values
made by sad people
more lost than you are
Let the fire of passion
consume you
from inside out
Explain nothing
The moon and stars
will understand you
The sun will light up your steps
For nothing is profane
in a heart that loves
The world will think that you are mad
and hate you for being happy
Ignore them
Love all with a blazing force
Love without mercy
Burn, burn, burn
Run with the wind
Dance with the trees  and laugh at the sky
Wake up to your dream
and be alive
Be free Be true
Be you.

Her soul
spills
out of her body
and she does not know it

she does not know
how her eyes
light up
like looming mountains
touching
the brightest stars

and that poets
only write
what the wind
whispers
to her hair.