beautiful breaths

a bugtronaut

there's beauty behind the lush and fresh

at prayerful rest

vibrant and glowing

a little shy

nature's design

lovely young ones full of joy and innocence

vegan

a beautiful giver

Dear Marites

Dear Marites,

This is like going back in time when you were in high school and was a classmate of my dear brother, Edgar.  You do not know this, but I looked up to you, Carmencita and Bella.

You see, my brother had a very funny way of admiring some girls in his class.  You will not guess if at all he actually had a crush on someone because whether he actually was interested with someone or not, he would always with endearment say something contrary to how he felt.

One thing I am sure though is the fact that he enjoyed being with his old friends from high school.  I don't think that he made any close friendship with his college mates and found anyone worth his while with colleagues from work.

It is a great pleasure for me to have reconnected with you and some of his friends.  This is one way of keeping his memory alive.

Now, you told me that I do not write that much anymore.  I have not posted any entry in Frogglerocks lately but have been writing in my site in WordPress.  That blog is interesting because it is a different material.  You might want to discover my dark side.  It is all over that blog!

Thank you for sending this old photograph of me and your brother Cesar in our JS Prom.  Or was it some other occasion? (Whew!  I got stuck with the spelling of that word.  Thanks to auto correct!)

Let us keep each other posted.  I hope that this letter will make you smile tomorrow morning!

Fondly,

Emma

PInked

Just what my mom would say, slightly pink like the cheeks of a blushing, young girl.  That tinge of pink when she tries to catch her breath after swooning over some young lass who gives her, just a bit of glance!

That kind of pink when the heart sees something that makes it beat irregularly and queerly.  Pink that is hardly there but there!

That kind of pink that does not brag nor is imposing to the senses.  Almost pink in the manner of one whose ways are impeccably just right and natural,  like the veins on a petal of baby lips while the senses have not yet awaken.

Those toes that are pink as I imagine Ziva Estelle's.

A faceted pink that is almost hardly there, faintly and subtly like the sky on some rare days, like the ones I witnessed in Bantayan Island.

Maria would always say to me, wear pink.  It suits you.  It is healthy.  And so will I, without being noticed.

 

Poetry without words

early morning where the ants live

 

Edgardo: for Maritess and all his friends

The last time i saw him in a picture dressed to the hilt was in his daughter Kay's wedding. If I did not know he is no longer earth bound, i would have thought for a while that this is my dear diko dancing with a lady.

No More Queso de Bola for Christmas?

Oct 28, '09 11:33 PM

While I recall,
you had the sweetest smile
and eyes that glinted fire
angel hair
very tall
very strong
very bright
dashing in fact...

quite sensitive
funny
morbid
thoughtful
pensive.

While I recall
you came to visit me
with our weird sister,
your best friend.

we offered whispers
and candies to some entities in my garden.
(that is our sister's idea
of how i can be cured of my weird ailments)
again a game we played like children
as adults
and that was the last.

i dont see your face with your jeep at the pier when we visit
i dont hear from you anymore.
i dont read from you either
nor do you nag me for chocolates now.

I have this thought
that maybe this christmas you will not be around anymore either?
so goodbye queso de bola?

maybe dad is right at weeping when he misses you.
I just cannot get there yet
but i miss you.

we miss you.
i will miss you on my birthday
Happy will miss you on hers
Kaye will miss her dada when she gives birth
and as we live on earth
you will miss the floods
the presidential elections
the planting and harvesting of your crop
the court proceedings
hunger
pain
sorrow

for you will have something else better, greater, more beautiful
where you are.

i  bid you goodbye as you bid me goodbye while i write this.
you have fun
that's alright.

bye

Tags: diko, children, precious moments, change of season

http://imatruelove.multiply.com/journal/item/24/no_more_queso_de_bola_for_christmas

something about trees

There are trees who watch the sea. 

And trees who look up at the sky and with their hands outstretched and palms open wide, they touch the sun.

 Some trees are smug.  They have no idea that in their smugness, they look "ludicrous as to be laughable". Or maybe they take their business very seriously especially when tasked to watch over something like what a supervisor does.

Some are just too powerful, so forceful and intense that you would feel their gaze down your napes and maybe even make you miss a heartbeat.

A lot of times trees are misunderstood.  They are misconstrued as getting in the way and so are chopped down.   

When lucky, they get hugs.  

But they would prefer to be forgotten and left to root deep under the earth to watch the people at the beach,  or touch the sun and left alone to be quirky and funny or thunderously gigantic.

As I do a  tree pose and stand on one leg, I visualize balance, strength, and gentleness with every breath.  I visualize giving,  like what a tree does endlessly,  without expecting anything in return. I cradle in my arm-branches all the elements of the earth,  and imagine abundance like a tree in spring and summer.

And in my one and only lifetime, I meet trees everywhere and I make friends with a lot of them.  In my one and only lifetime.

Hello world!

A window opens up my day.

I watch the sunlight slowly illuminate the white curtains

before it begins to burst great, white energy that fills up the space right before my eyes.

Right outside this window is a lonely pear.

It waited for me to come.

Pears don't grow where I was born.

My mind tells me that I have seen these things before

but my heart says no.

It is always new 

time cannot create the same experience

nor recreate it.

Same things are actually different!

Soon everything will meet the ground.

The pear and the leaves will fall.

Because Nature lets even the most beautiful go

to spring new life again and again and again.

I witness this from looking out a window.