Poetry by Maryanne Lobaton | February 8, 2009
pale crimson and orange palette
painted in that endless canvas
with the final rays of the sun
sinking over the horizon;
the blades of cogon grasses turn
into dark, dancing silhouettes –
the best twilights, i left at home…
now, i see no velvet sunsets
and no dancing cogon grasses –
just a lone lightpost by the street.
Poetry by Maryanne Lobaton | February 8, 2009
used to being side by side;
withered bunch of blooms
forgotten by you, by me —
how do we say our goodbyes?
Poetry by Maryanne Lobaton | February 8, 2009
a single broken fork,
a couple of plastic cups,
lots of crumpled paper —
and you start to realize
that they’re all just clutter…
yesterday, they’re needed;
now, they’re nothing.
and you squint at the same thought
because it’s a lot like love,
where one is left behind –
broken and utterly
useless.