PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Poping in my thoughts like Sin       In this game I'm not sure I can win Indulging in your presence every now and then

to me babe you're a Perfect 10

Maybe a 9

because no one is perfect, but girl you just as fine

I wish you'd spend some time

with me Give me a chance and you will see

I make great company

may I please join you of would you like to join me?

In this search this quest in life to find some sort of Happy 

When I gaze upon your beauty,
my brain immediately panics—
it wants to stare respectfully
but also trips over its own manners.

I want to see you, observe you,
study you like fine art,
but then I remember,
Dude… don’t be weird. Don’t overdo your part.

Don’t say something awkward.
Don’t drift too far off-script.
Don’t stand there like a sad clown
who forgot his punchlines mid-quip.

She said, brilliance moves her more than beauty ever could.
Did you know I speak multiple languages—
not fluently,
but still more than I should?
She said it’s intellect that paves the way to her heart.

So I offer my thoughts before my hands,
pen on paper doing a sacred little dance.
When I’m blessed with her presence, I fall in a trance—
trying to be charming instead of just awkward and tense.

I sit and I think… maybe a little too much,
because my brain treats hope like a mystery novel.
I see tiny signs we might have things in common,
then immediately over-analyze the footnotes.

Is it something? Is it nothing?
Is it just my imagination on espresso?
Either way, my heart keeps quietly saying,
“Hey… I kinda hope it’s a yes though.”

I’ve got all these thoughts and goofy little dreams,
all bumping around in my head,
but really I just wish you’d stand by me
and laugh at the same dumb things I do.

Together we’d shine—
not in a dramatic movie-montage way,
but in that low-key, two-weird-people
enjoying each other kind of way.

sugar and spice and

memories of ice

pierce me cold and heavy

still I need snow and

memory to grow

oh my love am I ready

live to jazz June and

panic too soon and

play me and flay me open

flesh of my shell and

shell of my self they

take me so here’s to hoping

unknown a sound bite

carry a flashlight

save me and love still lingers

name me a good time

my boots and laugh lines

drag me through all my fingers

I can carry them too

all of me all of you

give me just a minute to fix up

I can live in this grief

& the edge of my seat

let all my bones fill your cup

under the rain we

make like a game we

smile and love still lingers

pound out a tune and

give you the moon and

on fire love still lingers

sugar and spice and

memories of ice

pierce me cold and heavy

lemons and bliss and

drop of moon kiss

tell me that I’m still ready

sugar and spice and

memories of ice

pierce me cold and heavy

still I need snow and

memory to grow

oh, my love, ask, I’m ready

days years months

and and and

fall hits like absinthe & I bathe in the sun

late nights

stone cold kisses

smiling in your arms

so

love me as I am

take me when you can

somebody better miss me like a tidal wave

somebody better mess this up

if they want me to find a new road

show me a new forest

my boots will still find the ladder to your treehouse

leave me to be rescued

I will only hurt till tomorrow

tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow

a choice a hint of a tug on my mouth makes

give us sin & premise & a few spins of fate

find a ray of glory called tomorrow

belum selesai (title is in Malaysian language/body is in Filipino/Tagalog/Taglish language, with English words)

handa siyang itigil ang

ating mundo

dahil sa pagmamahal

lagi na lang,

na para bang

pagpunta lang sa café

o teatro..o sinehan

handa ka bang

pagmasdan ang

ginintuang abot-tanaw

sa golden hour?

malamang hindi rin

tayo nakasisiguro

sa malayang kaisipan

na lagi na lang

para bang itinuturing halamang

pinagmamasdan

may gustong malaman

may gustong matikman

may gustong hikayatin

ngunit ating puso

ay nakabinbin

In the hush between heartbeats,

love moves without applause.

It does not demand, nor boast,

but breathes gently through the ordinary,

the smoothing of a sheet,

the soft clang of a spoon in a bowl,

the warmth of food prepared with care.

To serve is not to shrink,

but to expand,

to let compassion pour through your hands

like warm water over cool stone.

It is the silent prayer of presence,

the meeting of souls through simple acts,

where humility becomes holiness.

Real love does not seek a throne.

It kneels beside, not below.

It rubs the aching shoulders,

listens without fixing,

and gives without keeping score.

Two hearts in quiet rhythm,

each tending to the other’s light.

This is the still power of devotion,

not grand gestures,

but the sacred everyday:

a bed made, a meal shared,

a back soothed by knowing hands.

For when we serve in love,

we are not losing ourselves,

we are finding the Divine within us both.

Eyes like amber wine & tea, I drink deeply of their smokey charm.

The silk red velvet of her lips, Cupid's heart
I know well the pleasures they bring

Skin smooth and rosey, porcelain curves 
Soft to the touch of My caress

Lucious hair raven black, the way I like it

Poet shirt unraveled, twins set free to My communion feast

Hidden treasures call 'round snuffled pleasures, dimpled Venus thrall

A kiss for all

don’t be shy I will win you

the biggest (insert thing you want here)

I will catch all your throws

smile at all those jokes

except when they deserve a laugh

come love

wing walker

hold me at swordpoint &

pull all my treasure away

tomorrow

if you let me match you

I will parry every move I see coming

meet you where you are

bright star

quick blade

sit me down & shut me up

with your quick

hands

Beneath the thunder of our words,

a softer voice lies trembling,

not anger, but ache,

not fire, but the faint glow

of a heart wanting to be seen.

Each clash, a coded psalm,

a plea wearing armour,

the soul’s shy hand reaching out

through the smoke of misunderstanding.

We do not battle to win,

we battle to be held.

What sounds like conflict

is the sound of loneliness breaking open,

of love knocking against its own walls,

of yearning dressed in defiance.

So let us listen

not to the sharpness of tongues,

but to the hush between them,

where the true words live:

choose me,

consider me,

understand me,

accept me.

For every argument is a secret altar,

and beneath it burns

the quiet, stubborn fire

of our longing to belong.