Feathers whisper stories and poems of life before.

Feathers whisper stories and poems of life before.
Feathers lie in the cold, it tell stories of life before.

Saturday, April 13, 2024


I like your smile it gets no mystery

Of blood-tinted shroud crying out lies

Along the beaded streets of cobblestones

Which lifetime is bird’s early-waking tune?

A smoke of dust fades like clouds wind- blown.

I like your smile it gets no genius brush

To whip the canvas with finest horse tail

To smear ashen faces with blood or tear

As though games, in each shoot, take flight in fear.

 I like your smile it gets no legend to tell

 Like empty stories, wrought in thoughtless words

Ringed in the ears that no one likes to hear

No poet or storyteller could bear.

 I like your smile though it offers no clues

 But one seen in the strand of maenad hairs

In the clouds float driven by angels breathe

Whose smacks bring a literal life or death?

 Shiny Betelgeuse etched in the soft cheeks

The Naughty lines under swim the dreamlike trance

Forever watching lurked in the starred sky. 

The lips bewitched mounted knights bold or shy.

 Star Bellatrix in smooth pillowy cheeks

Such a sober but quick-witted young sage

The logic crosses the rosy field of love

When GPS fix’s a point with stars above.

Michelangelo wrought Menkent’s in the nose

Shallower demeanor in truth deeper

Whose dream smell the aroma of Venus’ rose?

The tunneled high bridge, the godly scent oozed.

 I see Gienah in your honeyed mouth

Frothing vessels of Cadbury and cloud nine

The ruddy tongue twines with candy vine

Demeter’s lair of bee infested pines. 

Recalls more, more, and many times more

 Gazillions swim-happy in the starred sky

 With the wings of the tall emerald gem

 In your poise in your hair in your brows in your ears in yuor nose

 In your...SMILE.

Note: Betelgeuse, Bellatrix, Menkent and Gienah are stars named after their discoverer.

Monday, October 30, 2017

Vagabond Souls

let me in through the portal of the ♥
let me hear the mortal beatings of it
let me feel the warm of its flesh in the breast
though mortal and flesh but warm in each beat.

let mine sing in duo with the pulses
where letter flows with the blood
bringing the brush to paint the face of love
though red it is that unleash a gust of firy kiss.

Thus the wave quenches the thirst
Of missing the ember cheeks and lips
On a stormy sea embarks an intense chase
Rushes 'pon shore with a shriek and throw tight embrace.

O see how the shore wash the face
In the deep ecstatic core of sensual joy
windows close as soul swirls amidst the clouds
clouds swirl too! passion calls, paradise
its birds tweet the sweetest joy.

and since cloud is for the sky on high
and since spring is for the ground
therefore kiss's for cheeks one finds
and asks
what do are we? within cosmos the wandering duo.


Monday, July 27, 2015

Ma. Concepcion

We are born to live, grow, multiply, laugh, cry and later on die. How long  a life is--it does not matter. How life is spend matters regardless how big or small the accomplishments are. What accomplishments done by oldy will mark in the minds of future young generations. 

Equilibrium exists. Each birth, there is a corresponding death. Death is the only door to pass through for transition to the other side. If death is not to be fear of, much more the cause?

Mama Consi is the only one I know a person of down-to-earth attitude who never hesitate to do everything to help anyone in need. Her excellent verbal ability matched with amiable personality endeared her to relatives and friends. From birth to death don't have an opportunity to well-off life. She is the aunt of my wife but we treat each other as very good friends. She died of stroke and interment is due on August 15,2015. I will sorely miss her every time there is a toast in the house.

 n myriad of seasons till a blossom
    glances with eyes  damn sleek
Born in the eldest ray till you run and speak.

Rain or shine covers the head with the palms,
The day's labor Grapples with the brain
Until the sun got caught snoring when--
Misery and pleasure embed in weary sleep
The torment and glee forever awake
Six decades are hard days but never shakes.

Wounds are divine gifts! Passkeys to true joy
Pain entombed and eyelids are tight close
Now are delights and burdens are fettered
Bliss floods the river of happy mem'ries
Heaven sings hymns for your joyful return
By your side, we find ourselves sobbing, weeping.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

The Trip To Malalison

The Trip to Hidden Paradise Of Malalison now on the Web

The captivating scene of white sands twinkled to the modern eyes, one of the few unique places around the planet which offers delights that are priceless. 

“This could happen in some other times!” To the least of average sanity, every circumstance worked contrary. Yes, tips made the trip handy as said in advance. Necessities were bundled at a dash since the three-day long vacation was a ride from home to school, not be so enough to enjoy what the destination could afford to give. Saving time was the name of the game, and the bulk chunk of what could be saved would enable staying longer in the place where fine relaxation waits than lodged at home for the three consecutive non-working days.

Each one grabbed something to carry except our seven months old baby boy Eyhm whose job was to twist and cry as long as he felt uncomfortable being stocked by anyone. We were sardines in a tin can inside the automobile as we smacked the road going to the town of Tigbauan. At 0703 Friday, 12th of June, we waited the van until 0905. Off the road again at 0910 for the long haul.

The van scampered and the statue backdrops of woods and houses vanished from our sight quicker than any ordinary trips. Maybe the driver sensed that we’re at a “time budget” or drivers drive that style when the destination is far. Three of Iloilo last southern towns we went along so easy, but the town of San Joaquin as we leave and entered Hamtic Antique, the van kicked at turtle speed that started the ascent and descent in the mountain’s twisty passages. From the peak the vehicle dove downward as if we rode in a roller coaster. The van struggled and plowed thru difficult and erect gradient, but no room to stop since after it reached the peak then it plummeted as a swift wind in its descent. A scalpel sliced thru our guts. Though we’re not acquainted with this kind of travel, the enormous surprises the terrain offers loved us. From Lauan to Culasi a gradual change set-in.

A stableward ride began from here, and the fire of excitement extinguished at this level. Still, another one hatched in our gut. Malalison island in sight at the far side of the sea! Until the van pulled off somewhere in close in front of an open gate. A compound which solitary existence among the smaller houses painted a picture of a unique brand of thinking. The premises have a groundbreaking style of skill for the owner, and even to those who plan to subscribe to the services.


My comrades alighted from the van and strutted towards the counter and missed what I saw. I clicked shots of those which stood as a welcome party of the premises and carried myself to join with those who missed the colors and shapes we passed by. I sense something Invigorating as inside the compound was a fresher pastoral aroma that enveloped its space. We spread around the reception tables in front and the far right side of the counter--placed the best foot for a pose, and some of us acted as sitting dolls themselves. Others nailed their sights on the cable TV, sipped sodas--unaffected by the roller coaster ride. We were there inside the premises, the spot where we waited for the fairy godmother.

More or less two hours ago we alighted from the van a lady appeared cumbersome, walked with her were tons of food boxes and utensils. Just a simple one in her casual dress  as her way of speaking with well-defined gestures. Mrs. Salazar looked younger than 50 and a friend of my wife in Iloilo city. String of chitchat went unbroken made her busy arranged our lunch. Seafood and beef steaks lined on the table, but the stewed vegetables with fish inspired our palate. More and more cooked rice got out of the rice box while conversation exchanges kept on. Fourteen hundred hours we cleaned up whatever's left on the table.

We pulled out from Anna Sophie Hostel few minutes passed fourteen hundred hours June 12, 2015. The accessible means of public transport were the six-sitter (max sitting capacity) tricycles. Got two tricycles to Culasi boulevard as jumping off point to Malalison island a 10 to 15 minutes ride depending on the tide.

Two motorized boats sliced the transparent water. Nestled on a literal crystal water I have ever seen and to calculate whether the water was shallow difficult. We sat on a narrow top of the boat. The situation brought alarm since my wife held our baby boy of seven-month-old. I strapped my right arm around her shoulder and my left anchored to the side where I pinched or gripped to balance. A small post served as my wife's backup through a twelve-minute cross. We sailed through the glassy brine with minimum discomfort. Across us, a body of water, motionless as an oil sleeps in Christmas eve.

The white sandbar was a rubber, stretched to reach the mainland Culasi. The boat passed its tip and maneuvered right then beached in the front of rows of shades and rest houses. There, an open registering post sized us up as we slow-walked towards them to register. We stood as a group of entrants to the place. It was almost three when eight of us ushered to Anna Sophie cottages. We got one of the five fan rooms reserved by our fairy godmother who, at the same time served as partner-caterer of Anna Sophie. We dumped the pieces of luggage inside but needed for the swim. No time wasted.

The island of Malalison was a beach itself. The white sand and crystal water alone served as eesome perimeter line--a belt around the island. The sand bar I mentioned was long  enough to accommodate a multitude of swimmers side by side. But we started at the main shoreline nearer to movable shades and stores. Many guests thronged in this portion. There, boulders at the bottom served as safe houses of colored fish. Snorkeling and swimming go hand and glove here. No meretriciousness but the trueness of pristine gift from God.

Sometimes we stood at the boulders glued in the bed. Nothing to do but to rest awhile floated like a pole stood to act as a periscope; to observe how everybody moves, dresses, plays, swims, and snorkel. The mere of seeing people around suggested a world of gladness more than the expensive decorations on the wall. It gave colors that made one’s heart beats with pleasure a dozen times more when seeing through an animated ambiance. The shouts, shrieks, laughs and splashes pervaded the balmy breeze.  

Colors everywhere grew softer. The sunburn-friendly spot where we splashed, toned into a mild-skin-friendly warming--twinned with the soft wind in our faces. The sun shrank its calf below the line that connected the tips of trees and peaks of standing mounts. this nature's high-rise structures stood there to draw a line and underneath that line formed a natural big lab where lights and colors synthesized, transmuted to emerge as a widespread slight--temperature, ripe orange lighting.

Sunset was difficult to see. It took a long walk since we stayed opposite of it. We missed the day. We couldn't see how the sun sets. We missed how the golden rays burst in the horizon when the sun hid its fiery head beneath nature's line created a Kingdom of gold which domain encompasses both heaven and earth.

We stood on the shore and looked at the sun with regret why we did not transfer on the other side beforehand. Nothing was done but swim again. No idea that an unexpected broke into a circumstance in the final minutes. We noticed that the bunch of clouds in the southwest glowed. The sun touched the line. It hurried in its descent and one minute was far longer to hide its brilliance. Twilight covered the place and the last light oozed out just to hit the clouds. But the darkness that ate the leftover of the sun did not took away our appetite to swim. It even inspired us moved further to the sand bar.  

Other guest swimmers discovered that place. The smooth bed and the gentle contour shallower to deeper commanded a safety features for those inexperienced swimmers. I got an idea, the portion carved its prominence as the clearest and the best to night swim. Something pricked us, other than mosquitoes. The bite was quick but made us jerky. I experienced once in my childhood that kind of bite near the river from gnats.

The two boys brought munchies from our cottage and one of the the two reasons we did not see them for a time. We nibbled as long as we stayed in the water until  we were tired and knew there's less tap water left in the cottage. The little boy slept but woke up because of the bite and he was starving. On that note, we got up from the water and strutted back to the cottage.

The hectic activity of swimming  in the beach took its toll in our energy. Big amount of calories shedded-off had us no different to a low-bat cellphone. Still, the crowded bathroom put me on the last line while others scuttled away to a nearby deep well for rinsing. Less than twenty minutes, not one missing inside the room. Others were too quick to rinsing-off and found themselves confused where their phone was--to text or to charge a battery. All minds were set on how our dinner was going. Around 1930 hrs. Mrs. Salazar showed up with food boxes, skittered towards the table, motioned us for the dinner. We dined as conversations went on with  who was inclined to invite us for a few cans of lights after dinner. Sleepiness and exhaustion forbid an occasion to drink beer and to retire early was the best choice. We didn’t got ample time to explore the sandbar and what was really out  there.

At six-twenty-two AM June 13, I slipped out of the cottage with my mobile phone and coins in my pocket. I like the taste and aroma of hot coffee in the morning in the open--I feel free in that setting. Unaware that Anna Sophie served coffee free any time of the day right there beside the cottage. I intended to see the morning shoreline while I sipped a smoky coffee from a big mug, most of all, how the sand bar looked like in that time of the day.

Few shrieks and yells from beach addicts were heard who took the opportunity of being early while they stayed in the island. I took four shots of the transcended scenery and fumbled back to the cottage; no store yet open on that wee hours of the morning.

Here again, we missed the foods for breakfast earlier than we did at home and the reasons seen in our faces were obvious. Vegetable freshly picked, fish caught by the natives gave superior tastes than menus loaded with food preservatives and enhancers. Again, we finished at a dash what were in the table for what was left to us was a half day to stay in the Malalison.

Swimmed again! The midpoint of the sandbar served our staging area for safety reasons to give allowance for ocular sortie before tracing the shoreline going to the other side. How clean and crystal clear, there was no difference with portions we swimmed the other day except the bottom rocks free. More guests came in groups of all ages wore different swim gear and suites. Oh, we saw two middle-aged couple with a suitcase with them, who took the other side in front of us. Well, suitcase brought in the sandbar was a unique option in this kind of place but for those whose intention were other than swimming.

Me and my wife traced the waterline up to the other side excited by our seething imagination we hatched the previous day. We took leave and enjoyed every inch of the breast-deep brine; rolling, fluttering, talking, floating. Less than thirty minutes we were at the oval tip of sandbar peering at the grandeur of the nature’s sculpted curves, projected from the main shoreline. Small ripples when pump boats passed emitted quick reflections as if thousands of diamonds scattered by the sea. We stayed up longer here then moved as we did before we reached the tip.  

They fished on the shore the couple we saw with the suitcase less an hour ago. Unmindful they were, the woman played with the ripples  while the man mended the line and reel in a short rod. We looked at them amused when they gave out an impression of frolicsome setting by juveniles.  We were about 10 meters from them but didn't went further to leave them undisturbed.

Animated scenes blended with the sounds and colors on the beach kept our heart pumped livelier than when we were teenagers. Our stay on the other side was brief enough to have a peek what was up there.

Sun climbed easily that day, Saturday 13th of June and the delightful moment at Malalison winded up. Hours sprinted at blinding speed and we sat at the narrow top of the pump boat as the white sands of Malalison and its reaching sandbar faded from our eyes. The group rode in two pump boats to view the island one more time before leave-taking from Malalison to Culasi. We waived on cave stop because of time constraint.

On the way home we met inconveniences on our arrival in San Jose when the driver announced we transfer to another vehicle for Iloilo. It took a little time got on board to a Ceres Liner bus and less than fifteen minutes departed with film in my brain played a vivid movie of the escaped.

We met problem upon our arrival in San Jose when the driver announced we transfer to another vehicle for Iloilo. It used up a little time set out on board to a Ceres Liner bus and less than fifteen minutes departed with film in my brain played a vivid movie of the escapa

Malalison island is a remote island under the administrative authority of Culasi town. Development as sighted to be one of the tourist destination is an accurate vision of the municipality of Culasi. A standard tourist accommodations only available in Culasi town proper would need a regular travel by pumpboat back and forth. To spend more time on the beach and save money with the added challenge of persisting in a native manner of lifestyle--renting one of the cottages is recommended.

We came across difficulties in our close expedition and have them while on staying there. But the enjoyment and the appreciation of nature offset them--the fresh food and air, crystal clean water and the beautiful scenery near or far alone are high commodities so priceless that one will seek few moments they are out sight.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

The Lamppost

Did modernism changed love? 
At present we see big changes in human perimeter. The way how conversations are being carried on--the way concern is being given to one another--the way treatment being lend to each other.
Definitely not in love. How it raises its head and heart, no time could ever bring conflict into it--as long as it is true.

The love of Nora and her boyfriend for each other brought mystery and intrigues among those who knew them and to those who contracted late friendship with them. Their untimely demise shocked their circle. Much more, when they frequented the spot nightly, seemed looking for something--after they were dead.

The LQ

So bad! The conversation on the telephone didn’t arrived to a point amiable. My justifications swam in the stinky pond full of shits. The night flew deeper, moonless and chilling. And darkness’ damn suffocating drowned me to find a lighted place. A twinkling one, with frothing glass in the front of me, cold but warm enough to put numbness and to let me swoon to forget. And to part the soul from my system. Thus, oblivion takes charge of everything for just awhile.

And darkness’ damn suffocating as I was resolved to find a lighted place.”

Dreamy walk to the lamppost

I plowed through darkness with a few hundreds of heedless steps from the condo. my close familiarity of the street, brought me safe to a spot, though, in my dreams or in my daily routine in going out and in from condo, had I realized that there was a place where I walked. My hands dove into my pants back pockets just for a stick and a lighter. The tip glowed. My mouth revived and blood turned lighter much quicker with its soaring to my brain to keep me going. Along the road, traffic poured fast until red and white lights, as it appeared, like stars slowed down in their orbits waited for god to empower more candelas in them. When, lights turned orange so with numbers of broken strings approached to end the count. 
 That was when the hanged lights flashed to green and vehicles speeded-up again. I found myself statue-like peering at the street with a fervent hope I stood in a designated loading line.
I took something like five minutes to figure out. I felt something under my right shoe. I bent and tried to see what was it. I didn’t exactly knew what it was--but, something black. 
The cold thing lie in my palm mangled and lifeless but still complete under the

“At my side to the left, was a monolith lighted in the peak. Lamppost supposedly,...”

moonless night with astonishing ability to fight back oncoming glares by its glitter. 
At my side to the left was a monolith lighted in the peak. Lamppost supposedly, stood passed the end of loading lines—there under it, two persons, as their form suggested—a man and a woman. I was not sure if my eyes were in such in a good health and that my sight served me well; I got what they wore—their hairstyles hinted on me—a man and a woman under the lamppost in my left. They were a mannequin. Weirdest of all their eyes nailed at the base of lamppost. Curiosity caught me tight of what I observed. Since, a soft breeze that prevailed, and the current seemed to take them to the place where the former heeded. The glaring headlights passing thru, threw cast of shadows of objects in the dark made my head spun more. For the two of them threw no shadows at all!

Ride with the ghost

“Screech!” I back-off from road gutter, I looked unto the taxi surprised, which in every way I made no motion to rode or actions that the driver, in any conceivable doubts or certainty, would him think I had such serious necessity I should leave the place ASAP. With no hesitations, I slipped inside. Just enough before I could feel what comfort the taxi would offer and door shut ted closed same way it opened when I mounted. “Pale Resto and Bar” I croaked. And silence. The driver himself wore ash tinged countenance with lips snuggled closed as if a binder wrapped around his jaw, sat as a stub, without even paid a single glance at me; he floored down the accelerator and drove in such a manner that car’s motion was nothing at all, but levitating. I worked off my mind to reclaim the scene when I was in condo. I struggled to ignore the hair-raising things that surround me. Breath deep. Inhale. Exhale. I searched for freshest air I could find within the dead-silent cube where I sat. And what I smelt was a funerary fumes reeking-up from smothering candle.

“Flip the freshener on please!” he reached something indistinct to the sight but I could sense a relief in my lungs. “Thanks, that was good.” My c-phone sounded. Three smileys imprinted in the screen. Jenny had moved on within a short period to make such mysterious occasion comfy than anything else. Supposedly, her tantrums gone, probably she missed me at the moment. It strengthened and empowered my sense of bravery to the point my jumbled thoughts went a little orderly.
The taxi slowed down. The array of lights marked the approaches were just a few meters before we pass the curve entrance of building. Thirty bucks lighted in the meter. My right hand groped for my wallet. “oh my God!” I jolted-off and threw myself out from the inside but my last remaining strength afforded me to stay foot outside when a service personnel came. I reached out my left hand for my fare and I heard faint sounds of coins stroked the passenger seat then fell to carpet.

Ghostly affair in the resto

“Happy evening sir!” there was no enough time to respond as I busied myself wiping my face. “I suppose that the air con is out of order, sir on the way.”

I turned my head halfway to the usher, “that was really in my thoughts when I’m still inside.” My hurried gait brought me to the main door quickly with some little amount of sanity left in my head--I looked back. A two persons had just get-off from the taxi I rode!

The resto shaped itself more of an oval than a rectangle. It grew more tables and chairs way back I saw it on my debut visit two years away, that, innumerable visits followed I paid, savored tasty dishes, enjoyed excellent wines. Slowly I regained my casual composure and been aware who’s coming in and out of the place.

“As usual Ken?”

“Huh! much quicker ha—with some black rice this time please.” I befriended Art after a few visits as a customer in the res to. He was a kindly amiable towards me—a creature with deep interests in news and current events with an ability to talk of what he gathered around.

It didn’t took so long when Art marched back to my table with a tray of Chicken Pesto Linguini, black rice and Pinot Noir, scattered them in the front of me. “I was stuck in the third street in going here.”

“Woh, woh don't make joke dude.” Art said with an unusual timbre, and his solemn face sang serious. “That way's bloody cursed. A lot of mysterious accidents were found in its evil chest but one most notable was when two young sweethearts mowed to death due to recklessness, eight months back I think. After that incident there, several happenings on same spot and complaints about apparitions of the sweethearts...” Art had hardly finished relating when a commotion broke out. He speeded off to the scene and gave hands to other two of his peers. It was two young partners having LQ I supposed. The boy wore a marine Supima Pique Polo with earth-tone slacks, he looked demanding in his demeanor. The girl seemed uneasy and almost cried, with her flesh-sleeveless-round-necked Fonteyn dress revealed her smooth desirable neck. That made me a terrible longing and desire that Jenny would ever call or text me again. Goosebumps grew strong all-over.

The black diamond

I swigged each glass of wine to make leeway against unbearable thoughts. “Colors and style didn't made difference in both unsteady lights and sufficient lights.” For my mind the object I picked near the gutter, I pulled it off from pocket and exerted a succinct examination in it, and though; deformed due to incessant passing of vehicles, by natural circumstance or what, bounced to the side of the street. It was an engagement ring for women. Opposite of the gem housing was flattened, with numerous pitting and severe scratches all-over but by what inexplicable reasons, the gem was intact! With three sturdy arms raised as

“It was an engagement ring for women. A black diamond ring,...”

supports to the stone, for all time to come—as I saw it. “A black diamond ring,” I whispered. As I was doing an in-depth ocular to the ring, I caught two partners, who had a quarrel few minutes past—looked intently—their eyes nailed to the thing I fingered.

A brief respite from lamppost affair

It vibrated again. Excitement drowned me more than the four bottles of downed Pinot Noir did, and another one’s coming up. “Hi, pretty eve, what's up?”

“I ringed you in the condo. How I can be sure I’m not talking to a spirit?”

“In our rendezvous, just here,"

“Holy thunder! Getting late now, can you drive now?”

“No I can’t. What I mean is, I leave it in the carport.”

“Okay, stay foot that way just thirty minutes I’ll fetch you up home, scoundrel.”

I toppled five bottles to see her again after the quarrel. If the sixth came in, I would swim home. She arrived two minutes before as said.

“Hey Ken, Jen shows up.” Art fetched the mess on table and walked off when heeled footfalls coming to my table.

“Oh gosh, I see a soiled wipe,” I heard her nearer and nearer where my head fell in my arms on top of the table.

“You're late!”

“Woo, who! Firstly please don’t start for another one. Second, let's make thing darn smoother and most of all, it's earlier than said. Okay?”

“Hey, Art black...anything dark…."

“Oi, I saw those damn empty bottles pitiful as you—can't we make this moment romantic?”

“What your saying? Black coffee, Art knows that.”

The sudden shift of scenario took the chilly atmosphere off out of my system. Her warm, caring voice invigorated my frozen soul and thoughts. Improbabilities haunted me hours ago were enough to stole sanity from my dizzy brain. From the moment I stood in the gutter near the lamppost after a dreamy stroll from condo, the two persons stood by the lamppost, the empty driver seat and the two lovers who had quarrelled in the resto were more than enough to sent me flying crazy in the midst of hell—unbearable! I thanked God silently that Jen arrived. She didn’t knew how much comfort I drew from her presence to place myself at once in a calm composure.

We bid goodbye to Art when midnight bells supposed to strike. Jenny drove. The headlights sliced through pitch dark road and I asked her driving without possible passing the third street—the direction where all bad omen had started.
“Its chilly isn’t it, pretty?”
“Not much, feels that way?”
“I feel like saying something that way.”
“Whoa! Don’t play at me dude. I like movies, don’t have the idea yet I enjoy horror-some? I wonder why we have to pass the other way.”
“Well, got an idea about the third street?”
She took moments to say something. Seemed she had already what I asked her, but needed more recalling to bring to mind, before memories made whole.
“Yep, that’s an unforgettable place I think for my best friend Nelia.”
“They lived in there once?”
“Nope her sister and her sister’s bf DOS there together with the drunk driver more or less seven months ago.”
“Do they have strong facial similarities?”
“That I don’t have. I was with my parents in Vienna that time.”
“More queries handsome?”
“That I’ll make my mind up yet pretty.”
Jenny drove already past the third street if she followed the usual route. Hence, the winding road we went along, it’s difficult estimate of how far we’d gone from res to. Four meters past the sharp curve running onto the yield signage, the car jolted, ran off track to right. I grabbed the steering wheel as a momentary loss of steering control turned the car into a derailed bullet train.
Four meters past the sharp curve running onto the yield signage, the car jolted, ran off track to right. I grabbed the steering wheel as a momentary loss of steering control turned the car into a derailed bullet train.
“Curse upon seven hills of Rome! are they blind? Lots of airheads roaming the streets unnoticed by traffic enforcers--are we in the world of insanity?” She foamed and cussed erupted as if she really knew who they were. in my enjoyment she really looked so enticing that way while I chilled again in my cold seat.
“Whoa! Pretty bitch, look on to the road else will meet another one and we’ll wake up covered with white linens in the cold stretchers. Just settle down a little I’ll tell you a story.”
Nothing sounded except mine. As I told and showed to Jen what happened from the condo to the resto. I saw her smiled. She sometimes wanted to add something.
“No, no. if what I told were just make ups, I can make something more agreeable to my taste and so with yours. It happened! Those three were familiar and I’m not drunk.”
“I believed you. Just getting puzzled on what business do they have as far I can get--what in the world they’re looking for something in the cold damn lamppost—so uncanny!”
“something in it.”
“and what’s it?”
“Do you have any pic of Nelia?”
She paused a moment and looked inside her bag.
“In my Drive, I think. Search Menelia Pic.”
“In our rendezvous.”
I tapped back-n-forth like fool. Connection’s too bad.

A romance at last

More or less 20 minutes we’re in my condo. Jen planned to go back home for some serious business the next morning. I couldn’t suffer her to be alone ply the streets in the deep of the night. Much more, my hunch, she was marked to undergo the weirdly experience now she knew something about it. And she liked my idea.
Exhaustion because of ghosts thing, didn’t stopped us to find leverage for our past quarrel, instead, we felt we needed more each other than before. The chilly experiences became warm for both of us and the night became hotter and hotter—only closeness of our skins would quench the delirium and fever. We passed the night contented and happy.
I woke up with a black coffee by my side. She’s there sipping latte while eyes glued at her s-phone.
“The chilly experiences became warm for both of us and the night became hotter and hotter—”
“Here she’s.” She held it closer.
“O, Christ! Didn’t you saw her in the resto? She was there with...I understand her boyfriend. They were just two tables opposite us. Didn’t you?”
“Nope. I saw the surrounding tables when I entered and sat beside you.”

A false positive?

I quickly groped for my phone and ringed Art. I knew he’s still in their house that time. He’s more reliable to say something than the both of us.
“Hello Ken this’ much too early, feeling good yet?”
“Nice morn, yeah, I’m okay. Would you describe the face the girl who had a quarrel with her companion last night in the resto?”
“Girl who!? I mean there’s no girl. They’re two salesmen who quarreled about one product subscriber. Wo, wo my soap rolls onto the sink!”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Very. Just take a shower and have plenty of hot chicken soup Ken. On shower bye!”
“What he said?” Jen asked
“Much similar with yours.”
“Would you call Nelia for me?”

Encounter with ghost in the flesh

It never occurred that hallucinations got the best of me even when particularly I drink too much. Here Nelia's participation would close everything to its finality. So fortunate she was available, and she sorely missed Jenny for long time after when both of them got job.
We arrived at Nelias house within thirty minutes drive from the condo. The Victorian masterpiece plumped with fragrance exuded from various multi-colored flowers I’d seen. The path went from the gate to the main door was enough to accommodate two cars but before reaching the round fountains midway from gate to main door, was a short causeway and a tiny stream loaded with fancy and gold fish. Someone welcomed us at the main door who at that instance, I stepped back, for she truly was, that I saw in the lamppost and in the resto except the dress she wore. She was of same age as Jenny. They hugged and kissed each other while I stood and wondered as a true stranger among the two sisters. She made us seat in a three-seater Duncan Phyfe sofa and lost in the long alley when an occasional surge of the wind drifted the long saber draperies as she walked. Nelia came back with glasses of pomegranate and loaves of brown bread. Jenny opened and would, most conversation, as agreed.
“Nel this' Ken my hubby to be.”
“My superb friend Ken, this is Nelia.”
Her warm smile broke the seriousness of the meeting. I felt her warm enthusiasm that someone added to her circle of friends which in my observation, even for that short period of seeing her; she needed it to have such companionship without intention of getting enjoyment from it--but, another friend whom she trusts her miseries and the burden of her soul. I shook hand with her and took interests in knowing whats up after the terrible accident.
“Glad to meet you Nels.”
“Its a pleasure Ken.”
“How’s everything’s going after….” Jen seemed in a hurry to ask much early which Nelia grabbed the opportunity to reveal why she sorely missed Jenny. Nelia’s eyes glowed with fervent interest that her actions showed of perfect willingness to Jenny’s earnest curiosity.
“The sorrowful tragedy? she still lives in my mind that many instances I sat in our favorite place in the garden conversing,  walking, sometimes running and teasing with no other one’s around but her. Most of the times I found myself awake and crying in the middle of the night. I dreamed of Nora. Not only her…”

“What does it means?”

The conversation began as if I was there hearing play of dirges in the background. I pulled out a tome from the center piece to relax, and to evade unwanted detractions upon my hearing  and kept busy, scanning carefully whatever I could intuitively find in its stiff pages. There I saw a photograph taken one year ago. It was a casual photo taken in a mode when there is fondness or playful scenes at a comfortable time existed, among close relatives or friends at home. How fortunate that Nelia dressed same dress in the photograph I was looking at and I could perfectly point at who’s in her side smiling. I kept it to myself what I saw and slowly returned the album where it peacefully rested. By what power, or hypnosis or telekinesis my hand dig deep into my side pocket and fingered something like what I picked near the lamppost. But, would never bother paying attention to what I'd felt while hearing the conversation of the two ladies

“I saw Nora right in my sleeps. she’s showing her left hand, and she was asking for help. I could read her lips. The two others, who were men, stood in the background.”

“Had anything she said before the accident? Most likely, those with significant meanings that any of you would not expect her saying.”

“Before she leaves to met her boyfriend that day we talked, and I teased her because I know it was expected that he would give her a ring for their formal engagement. In that place in third street, bystanders saw that her boyfriend gave her a small box while he was getting something from his pocket—what was it is just hazy.”

“Where was that in the third street?”

“If you could see a newly repaired lamppost that’s it.”

Think tanks brainstormed

“Seems she’d an important message to you and she won’t be release from burden if no one could help her. Are you sure you get it right she asked for help?” 

“Yes. It puzzles me she shows her hand while opening her lips. I believe that what her saying about is in conjunction to her hand.” 

I listened intently to the discussions of Jenny and Nelia. Only what I’m sure of, that Nora was in desperate need for help—she tried to communicate her sister asking for it which in due course presented in a dream. Nelia didn’t have a strong facility in interpreting the message just like anyone of us present in that moment.
I offered my help to such purpose of gaining little good deed in one instance, and for the other, I was definitely involved, and the soul of the dead wasn’t communicating me while sleeping but on time when I was awoke. We paid much time re-enacting upon the various angles, openings and closings of the lips and positions of the tongue—what would be the words or word correspond to it. At last we perceived that Nora’s spirit was in distress and needed a rescue. But, what help she needed?
I tried to persuade Nelia that we go over the hands actions of Nora. Through careful analysis how she moved her hands it showed that her left extended with a slight angle to the right while her right hand point not onto other parts  but on the left fingers.

“Spirits don’t have physical pain nor concerns with carnal affairs anymore. Spiritual or emotional—yes. Spiritual pain, aww! We can do nothing about it. But in the emotional aspect we may be of help to let her free out of it whatever it is.”

Jenny nailed it secure. Her analysis of Nora’s flight carried a glittering hope to nail the stake of the foundation where Nora was grounded and eventually with hopes to iron-out ruffled edges.

“… and so, this is it--‘emotional’ I think we’re in the edges now and can see whats up down under.”

Nelia’s eyes glistened to what I’ve said. Her sank eyes, though beautiful, portrayed pitiful condition by nightly waking as her sister’s apparition came mostly by midnight since her death. “What involved the fingers with emotions?” I asked
“It’s something memorabilia or ostentation s that starts connections between heart and brain, maybe; a symbol, a reminder appealing to the eyes, provides a message—something would exist forever.” Nelia found some of her lost natural thinking ability.

“There is no other than…. a bracelet! or a ring?” Jenny’s logic much sharper.

“I vote for a ring. How about you two?” I asked.

“I go with you.” said Jenny.

“Why ring?”

I knew what was in Nelias mind. She needed facts. With all the realities I experienced which started when I leave from the condo, when I stood half conscious in the gutter near the lamppost, the two lovers who had an LQ in the resto, the three persons who suddenly crossed the street—made her wonder the gruesome life after an impending break-up with Jenny.
I showed her the ring.

“Oh my God! This is almost destroyed.”

“what we’ll gonna do now?” Jenny asked.

Encounter of the true ghosts

We decided at once to leave. I drove while the two of them poised as passenger. We were there in the car because we needed to leave but none of us said where we’d be going to. We passed by the Pale Resto and Pub. We alighted from the car and entered the place which environment was deathly silent at daytime. I knew Jenny and Nelia needed something to nibble. Almost four hours we labored with our minds in a single focus, to arrive an agreed solution. Art wasn’t there since he had a night shift the whole month.

“Hey Ken, why don’t you eat something aren’t you exhausted?”

“Just enjoy yourself here with Nelia, I must go for thirty minutes I’ll be back then.”

“Careful Ken.”

“Thanks Nel.”

I checked the ring in my pocket. I could feel the burrs caused by being trodden by all kinds of vehicles for months. The two ladies seemed to not interested why I should leave them in the resto and walked myself.

The shop looked abandoned. The silence that contained the whole premises was unnatural. My skin felt the same way I did in the lamppost as with in the taxi that night. As I approached the shop's entrance I heard someone there did something, and I was thankful that the jewelry repairman I knew, still there. “Good day. Still accepting repair job? I have here a ring. I need this ASAP.”

“Wow, you're too fortunate to be my only guests this day. Yesterday I can’t almost touched my lunch. The place was jam-packed.”

He looked into the ring. Run his fingers around the barely recognized body.

“Twenty-five minutes get this. I’ll right-up the flattened portion and make, well, two thicker plating s would suffice to smoothed hardy burrs.”

While, repairman explained how he could restore the ring, I heard a car stopped, a wispy opening and closing of doors. “I’ll be back buddy I wanna see our needs out there.” I approached the exit door feeling weirdly and cold. I could almost stepped back and run inside when when I saw the taxi and driver with Nora; her boyfriend looking at me. They stood in front of the shop stiffly. But the fact I had nothing to do with their death and what I did was to helped them, were enough to be proud of me and to never panic or ran away in that deathly encounter. Most of all, they’d that kindly looks with some lines of joy and gratitude oozed their transparent faces. Six seconds were just too long to bear standing, eye to eye the with dead ones, till they slowly disappeared like smoke from my sight.

Bought one sweet solution

I hurried to a nearby department stores and bought something to make the dead happy then retraced my paces into repair shop. I claimed back the ring then returned to resto.

“Oh, God! See Jen, Ken’s so sweet.”

“What a bouquet of plastics! Aren’t they?”

“No, this isn’t for you. Your alive. This’ for the dead.”

we leave the res to right away.

“Where we are now Nels?” I said.

“Don’t know where.”

“Where was Nora now, Nels?” Jen said.

“Ah yeah. Sky Clouds… Sky Clouds Garden. Make a swing to the left to that street—a 20 mins. drive from the junction.”

“Ah yeah. Sky Clouds… Sky Clouds Garden….”

In the resting place

We stood at the tomb of Nora’s peaceful place. I laid the bouquet with ring embedded within stems. All faces fell to a deep somber and melancholic ambiance matched the fragrance of funerary smoke exuded from flickering candles stood by the tombstone. We also lighted candles for his bf beside her. We never forgot the driver who caused their deaths, fifty paces away from them. For the sake of peace we muttered prayers that a peaceful rest be granted for them.

We turned our back from the garden with light hearts. We felt that the dead were glad for what we’d done to helped them. There would be a true RIP for them, we didn’t sensed their presence anymore and we’re relieved to live without interventions coming from other dimensions.

Remaining puzzle

“What business the other man’s doing with my sister and his bf?” Nelia said.
“He was the driver. I saw how Nora’s bf pissed-off in the resto. He looked for the ring which was accidentally thrown-out by Nora because of the strong impact on them. The two bothered the driver the day they died. I believed that he took the responsibility to helped them until that night I picked up the ring few paces from the lamppost. Actually, when I was on board inside the taxi, Nora and her bf were there with me because I'd sensed their presence inside.”
“I’m puzzled what they gonna do with the ring you found under the lamppost. I don’t think they could bring it with them anywhere else they go.” Jenny said
“I have an idea" Nelia said "that—spirits got emotions. They wanted to recover the sole memorabilia that connected them their love and they were resolved to continue that love forever and the lamppost is one of last witness of their true love to each other.”

Kindly do understand that this story is a work of fiction. All persons their names and places involved including incidences are fictional and imaginary.

Saturday, May 9, 2015


O, what psyche involved?
heroine’s gait fumbles weak, on dried  stubbles and break
whose age just left crackling dry against the green
field of sorrows when born
where birds at first tweeted initial lullaby s
and shoot in the tree follows, plays with wind
and times keep topping each other
on time; the sensual bee lost its flight
comes buzzing over honey-scented bud
once sang with sweet lullaby s.
Whoa, whoa what a surprise
days and nights tryst fruit, replicate
more as if the power of ten or twenty
exists in "the time keeps topping each other
and the bee lost its flight."

Trudge along the parch thread
after clock’s buzzed or bricking strings gone
after ringings faded from car’s smoking ass
here the sun gone to sleep
when only dreaming moon and singing stars
see the heavy steps of plastics and leatherette s
swim onto standing match box securing the hole
there, shadow walks slowly on the broken tiles
wields a decanter full of sweet white wine
in the room cuddles…singing honeyed lullaby.

Sunday, November 16, 2014


The smell wrecks the breath with pleasure
pricks the brain with fingers of candy perfume.
breeze's message swims in through the open door
but not exactly how last night's dream formed.

Getting flirty, the beatings drummed fast
how could this be that a table bloomed once
with dishes of pink, red and with Cup id’s musk
now, topped with peppers in each ounce.

Aye, spread the wings, fly slowly in true space
out, out to the door--sullen and open wide
component sings dirges without a smack or soft kiss
where drops swish--eyes weave sadness in the lids.

Wail the final pitch of sonata while the scent's pacing
out to the chord's freedom and wilful footfalls fade
crescendo's fading akin to the night's lightning
losing kiss with night's rain under moonlit shade.

O, the separated genius who sprouted a rose in the Gobi
reeks a difference that separates--that all need.
but all come a pard with fishes asking for the key
all freestyled in Lethe but key shines down the bed.

If this true, how come both stars come dripping
the lighted lids are closed but spark with sunlight
but the breast is yet to rip open by a long-standing loving
the deep-hued colors buried will implode with its might.

The difference, a key to separate so then stream out
through the open door as genie puff-off in the open
humming the music of birds early tunes, but
leave it as is--"key's" here--finds the 'morrow in the same pen.