Monday Thoughts

 

Once again, I am

a “good morning” message

sent to many

 

a half-thought verbalized

as you shake off remnants

of weekend sleep

 

involuntary as a yawn;

a long stretch,

or the repeated creaking of your neck

 

workweek routine sets in, yet i feel

like that first splash of water

on your skin.

 

 ~stephie~

 

Translation: Should You Forget

 

Should you forget …

 

how we once unclasped our hearts

to play and seek refuge from its maddening beats,

to look for the wings of the angel of darkness

and soar to the vagabond planets lying within us--

as one-- limbs and spirits entwined, whole

and unmindful of on looking stars…

 

Do not grieve beloved, do not be sad.

Nothing changes.

 

I shall continue to walk this rope of tightly-woven moments,

and living on remembered sighs and giggles, return

to the silent footprints you’ve cast in my heart,

touching always these fallen crystals from your lips.

 

But should you forget me…

 

should the love letters I etched on your skin fade,

should your tongue lose it’s memory

and forget even how to speak my name,

 

Ah my love, do not be afraid.

Nothing will change.

 

I shall never let go of our memories,

for I have sworn to every on looking star

and promised each vagabond planet

that one night we spent together,

was the last that I’d unclasp my heart.

 

Translated from: Kung Sakaling Malimutan Mo Ako

by Anne Stephanie Cruz and Marlon Hacla

 

 

 

 

 

somewhere in time

 

tapping the hourglass

taped on the table---

bidding time return

 

stephie

 

Ode to Kal-el

 

** because I will always be the little girl who fell for Superman…

 

I embraced you,
full circle around Krypton’s sun,
certain your fire will consume me
until I am nothing but particles
perpetually dancing in space,
feeding on the energy
of  being loved by a phantasm
whose identity I hold
in the quiet of my mortal heartbeats.

 

I’ve long given up trying
to solve the riddles of this universe:
of wanting to mend the tatter in time 
that caused meteors to pelt the earth too early,
but brought me to you too late.

 

I could only love you in compromised acceptance.

 

We are locked in a dream with a termination date.

Immutable laws of the cosmos breached with each kiss,
the great divide forgotten in a fortress of solitude—
no windows, no doors to shut behind us
we etched doubt in mirrors of fragile peace.

 

This is my beat under the heavens
yours lie beyond dismantled suns
past extinguished stars, spent comets
and silenced human hearts
that taught you to yield and let go.

 

Love alone cannot eclipse the truth:
you’ll always be a god amongst men,
but you weren’t destined to save me.

 

~Anne Stephanie Cruz~

Tanka:

Lachryma Christi*

uncorking

a bottle of vintage

tears, one sip

to cleanse the palate

of sin

*Lachryma Christi (Latin, "Tear of Christ") is a name given to red and white wines grown in an ancient vineyard on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius, in Italy. The name Lachryma Christi comes from an old legend that Christ, crying over Lucifer's fall from heaven, cried his tears on this land and gave divine inspiration to the vines that grew there.

Short Poems

i.

teardrop moon
rising over the docks--
solitary nightwatch

ii.

midnight harbor

two ships berthing--

company for the night

iii

ripening slowly

over mango trees--

Sunday afternoon

Recipes for Suicide

 

suicide by coffee—

five, six mugs a day

heart palpitation by 80

 

crossing the street

thinking of hall of mirrors—

shaking stumbling

 

excruciating pain

7-11 slurpee---

blood curling brain freeze

 

bright burning ember

a very slow poison—

cigarette stick

 

daily fare of gin

balut cholesterol and alcohol—

heart, kidney, liver

  

man without hope

swallows several wishbones—

death by lechon manok

 

each night, a toast

to guardian angels—

death by San Miguel

 

bloodsucker

hangs himself in guilt—

death by mosquito net

 

washing first heartbreak

out of her hair—

death by shampoo

 

after the bestman

makes a monkey out of you—

death by banana peel

 

 

SMS Rengga by: Andoy Castellano and Steph Cruz

Saturday, May 6, 2006 

Tulang Sangre*

At nabasag ang salamin ng gunita...

ang mga bubog,

naging kristal na along nakatanaw

sa makabila nating pampang,

mga hiyas na ngayo'y pinupulot isa-isa

hindi para muling buuin,

kundi upang mag-iwan ng mga sugat

na maghihilom rin kalaunan.

Saka pa lamang mananaludtod

ang bawat pilat at ilalantad

ang mga tulang sangreng

iginuhit mo sa aking balat.

*blood poem