Musings on Things I Learned this Summer

Though the salty tides may rise and fall,
the beach will never run out of sand.
Though the weather can be insanely
bipolar, the sky is poetry.
Though you may find the view plain, keep in
mind that each landscape has a story
to tell. Give it a chance to tell you.
Though the stars look enchanting tonight,
attempting to count them without a
friend can be depressing and futile.
Though the path may not always be smooth,
walking barefoot is an adventure.
Though the flowers may wither and fade,
God never ceases to amaze me.

-Nocturnal Scribe

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None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on How it Must Feel to be in Love

Love, hasten your footsteps to me
so I may know how it feels to
float on air and be on cloud nine;
so I may know how it feels to
be weak in the knees and to have
butterflies in my stomach; or
have my heart break into a sprint
at the very thought of him, or
blush and stutter in his presence;
so I may at last be able
to declare that all the love songs
finally make sense to me. But
I don't think I'm ready for that.
So hasten not, love. Take your time.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Waiting

With coffee orbs transfixed on the dimming
horizon, she listens to the sound of
the sea's laughter and the breeze's ballad.
Toes buried in sand, she sits Indian-style
and waits as her night hair flaps in night air.
She waits for the sound of footsteps on sand,
and the sound of her name on his soft lips.
She waits for him to sit next to her so
she can rest her head against his shoulder
and intertwine her cold fingers through his.
But her hands are empty and she's alone,
and no one knows that she is there, waiting.
So she idly lets sand run through her hand
and continues to wait for him to come.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on a Missed Friend (2)

The crickets are serenading me
while I unconsciously bite on my
already short fingernails, even
though I've been told countless times not to.
I listen to their song in silence.
A white butterfly grabs my focus,
and I watch it glide through the night air
and disappear among white flowers.
I wish you were here beside me so
I could tell you about what I saw,
and tell you how cool it was of God
to create colors and camouflage,
and how awesome it was of Him to
teach the crickets how to serenade.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on a Missed Friend (1)

Gazing up at the vast, night sky as
I listen to Alison Sudol
sing about picking apples from trees,
I attempt to count the stars I see.
They seem to be a lot brighter here,
looking like glitter on a black sheet.
Then my thoughts gravitate towards you,
and I suddenly wish you were here
sitting next to me on this front porch.
Maybe you could help me number these
stars, because there's just too many of
them for me to count alone. Then we
could sing along in off-key voices
and talk about the song and the stars.

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Shopping

"Juan Says Pits Ul"

Sa sulod sa usa ka bazaar sa Colon,
milantaw ko sa mga paninda nga naka-displi.
Paghimatngon nimu naku,
miduol ka samtang ga-tingsi.

"Unsa'y ato, mam?" Miingon ka naku.
"Aduna mi'y skene dzens nga ga-sel:
tulo kinyentos."

"Dili lang, miss. Naa pa'y dako niini?"
Nangutana ko nimu, samtang nitudlo sa usa ka sinina.

"Ah, mam, kinsa'y musuot?"

Naglagot ko.
Wa nimu gitubag ang ako'ng pangutana.

"Ang ig-agaw sa'kung iring." Mitubag ko,
ug ikaw natingala.

Wala ka katubag. Hala oy.

"Ako bitaw ang musuot." Nitug-an nalang ko sa tinuod
para dili ka ma-stress.  Ug usab nako'ng gipangutana:
"Aduna ba mo'y mas dako niini nga size?"

"Ah, mam! Kanang, kuan mam!
Juan says pits ul naman na siya, mam.
Suwayi lang ug sukod. Ma-igo ra lagi na nimu."

Nagbukal ako'ng dugo. Wa kaha siya nayabag?
Juan says pits ul? Kadako nga bakak!
Wala ba siya kakita naku nga
naga-barog sa iyang atubangan?
Wala ba siya kakita nga dili mi pariha ug lawas?

"Size Sexy man ko, miss." Miingon ko.

"Ha? Unsa, mam?" Naga-tingsi lang gihapon ka.

"Wala. Ayaw nalang, miss. Mura'g dili man ni mupaigo sa
ig-agaw sa'kung iring. Sa pikas nalang ko mangita."

-Nocturnal Scribe

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012

Musings on Love Handles

"Bilbilo'ng Gugma"

Ang ako'ng gugma para kanimo,
susama sa ako'ng bilbil.
Bisa'g unsaon naku ug hiyak,
bisa'g unsaon naku ug tago, ug
bisa'g unsaon naku ug pugong,
dili jud kini siya
mahiyak, matago ug mapugngan.
Musugwak jud kini siya ug magpakita.

Ang ako'ng gugma para kanimo,
susama sa ako'g bilbil.
Kay tulo kini siya ka hut-ong,
sama sa usa ka pagoda sa mga Insik.
Ug ang buot pasabot niini kay,
"I love you."

-Nocturnal Scribe 

This blog is protected by the Philippine Copyright Law, Republic Act 8293.

None of the posts in this blog may be reproduced or copied—either completely or partially—in any forms or by any means without permission in writing to the Author.

© Nocturnal Scribe, 2012