Praying Mantis

Praying Mantis

By: Anne Stephanie Cruz

Sister mantis, pray tell,
must we really bother
to examine our conscience
when stirrings of lust
awaken us everyday,
and nature compels us

to give in just because,
we are made of flesh and blood.


I am no different from you,
who seek consummation
by grasping live prey between one's legs,

and with wide open eyes,

watch them convulse in momentary pleasure
before tasting the coup de grace
dealt by the same giving mouth.


Ah but sister mantis,

this is where our sameness ends.


For how,
at the end of each sinful day,
can you unfold your fan-like wings
and reverently hold your legs together to pray?

revised Sept.12, 2005

Rub Down

it's a nightly ritual---
smoothing cocoa butter over newly-bathed skin.

Quivering with each stroke,
calculated sweeps from knowing palms
spread sticky warmth
like a hundred tiny fingers
dancing, briefly passing
but lingering on pleasure spots.

Lavishing attention,
mounds of flesh otherwise hidden
are carefully caressed,
gently teased;
with pinpricks of sensation
leaving it flushed and tickled pink.

Silky-soft,
warmed by the thorough rub down,
the sandman enters and finds me
...good enough to eat.

stephie

8.17.05

Para kay Jeff

a puddle

collecting raindrops

...one by one

stephie

8.15.05

Bukid Haiku

i.

barn scene:
field mice racing,
the cat wins

ii.

harvest moon---
crickets serenade
a shy maiden


iii.

carabao rolling
in mud-caked paddies--
a long dry spell

iv.

milking day:
a bleating goat pierces
morning silence


v.

bullfrogs croaking
symphony of three plus rain
Domingo, Carreras, Pavarotti

vi.

fields of grain
ripe-gold in the sun
...a king's ransom


stephie
8.16.05

Spanish Guitar

By: Anne Stephanie Cruz

The sandman eludes a desolate you
at witching hour.
Seeking the comfort of strings,
catgut warm against cold fingers,
(familiar, welcoming)
you strum your heart's discontent---
bedouin song of a soul aching to come home
weary from having walked nameless deserts
and seeing one's pyramids turn into mere dunes.

She was a gypsy whose spirit you could not own.
With visions of palm trees and caravans
and finding her own oasis in the sands.

Get Here.
You played many times to the wind.
Calling on its mercies to carry your guitar's melody
to the land of its origins*
past man-made borders and self-imposed barriers
that compounded physical distance,
rendering her deaf to music.

Images still burn
like remnants of a windstorm.
Remembrance brings tears
and causes you to smile, bitterly---
having realized you were holding on to a mirage,
all this time tending to a love past its bloom.

You squeeze your fingers and yank at a string.
The song fades as abruptly as your reverie.

*Spanish guitars originated from the four-stringed Arabian lute

On Poetry:

i.

to be a poet:
undress a butterfly,
borrow its wings

ii.

find me
between lines of colored silk;
hand-paint the sky

stephie
8.05.05

Andoy's Haiku

Sunrise hiding

behind a fire tree in bloom---

blinding halo of red

stephie

7.23.05

*with permission from the author

Rengga sa Tapika

A broken heart singing draws a crowd.
In the glow of lights,
release finds its way through rapture---
the aftermath of storms
sends out moments of clarity
through piercing music
where only a heart once whole finds remembrance.

It keeps on ringing until its last tones are heard
...fading

Steph, Jojo and Pol

July 30, 2005

Haiku in Filipino

dalawang alon

sa magkabilang pampang--

halik ng paalam

stephie

7.30.05

*para kay Jowjow