Why do we keep on writing poems,

And pouring our emotions on paper

When we always keep on hiding

 Behind masks we call 'Pseudonyms'?

We all write for someone—

Friend, family, or lover;

 For someone out there we don’t yet know;

Or, sometimes, just for ourselves

But how will they know what we feel?

How will our intentions be clear?

 When we keep ourselves hidden,

 If our identities, we never reveal?

Are we scared of criticism,

 Of hate, of negative reaction?

Or is it just a bit of shyness

Knowing you'll be on the spotlight?

But I have decided to keep myself concealed

 Behind this fake name, I will hide

Not 'cause I'm afraid to be judged

 But because this identity has become mine

I remember how fast you were going

As I was waiting by the corner,

Waiting for you on a rainy afternoon,

With only your footsteps to be heard.

I remember how you were standing still

Getting drenched as the rain poured down

You were waiting for someone,
Was it me?

I counted your steps, one by one,

The pitter patter of rain sounding like the ticking of my watch

I watched as the pitter patter turned to large drops, the way ticks became tocks

And finally you were there

I walked slowly towards that corner where you were

Ignoring the large raindrops falling on my back.

All that matters is now, I’ve got a chance

To make up for the time I wasted in the past

Twenty minutes a bit too late,

I was ready to walk away in the rain

But as I was closing my umbrella

You put yours above my head.

Just in time, I reached you with my umbrella

You stopped, turned, and our eyes met.

We stared at each other for almost an eternity

With no one even bothering to say a single word

I didn’t mind anymore that you were late

I lay my head on your shoulder and sighed,

The smell of rain and your scent enveloping me.

Words would never be enough to describe our love.

We held each other in a very warm embrace

As I felt your heart beating through my shirt I remembered

How in the world did it once cross my mind

To break this lovely woman’s precious heart?

Words running thin, eyes running dry,

Walking away, coming back, making time,

We made our own history, my dear,

One time frame was never enough for us.

We walked together, towards a future full of love

Leaving behind a past full of sorrow and regret

Our own history, indeed, is what we wrote down

Marami ang nagtatanong sa akin kung ano ba talaga ‘tayo’?

Hindi ako makasagot dahil hindi ko rin talaga alam.

Hindi ko alam kung magkaibigan ba tayo.

Hindi ko nga alam kung gusto mo ako.

Pero, parang sa loob ng aking isip at puso ay ayoko ring malaman.

Natatakot ako na baka “Hindi” naman pala. Natatakot ako na baka “Oo”.

Marahil ay hindi ka sigurado sa iyong nararamdaman.

Marahil ay hindi mo maintindihan.

Ngunit sa aking isipin, ikaw ang tanging nananahan.

Ang puso ko’y ikaw ang tanging laman.

Hindi lamang bilang isang simpleng kaibigan, ngunit bilang isang kaibigan.

Ang hirap paniwalaan ng iyong mga sinasabi.

Hindi naman dahil sa wala akong tiwala sa’yo, pero talagang natatakot lamang ako na baka hindi totoo.

Natatakot ako na muling masaktan.

Natatakot lang ako na muling maiwan.

Kung sasabihin kong “Hindi ako ang tipikal na lalaki na papaasahin ka lang,” 

ay magmumuka akong “tipikal na lalaki”.

Hindi ko alam kung paano kita makukumbinsi ngunit ang tanging alam ko lang ay ang aking nararamdaman para sa’yo ay tunay at hindi gawa-gawa lang.

Huwag mo sanang isipin na walang saysay ang lahat ng ginagawa at paghihirap mo.

Bigyan mo lang ako ng kaunting panahon upang tuluyang makasiguro.

Sana lang h’wag kang sumuko at magbago.

Sa ngayon kasi, ikaw ang dahilan nitong mga pagngiti ko.

Hindi ako magbabago.

Patuloy akong magiging dahilan ng iyong mga ngiti.

Hindi ako susuko.

Handa akong maghintay ng ilang linggo, buwan, kahit taon.

Maghihintay ako dahil alam kong ang hinihintay ko ay,

ikaw.

 I’ve always thought of how magic shows depict the current state of politics. How the auditorium is like a miniature version of a country. The stage is set, and the characters are well rehearsed and prepared.

                  First up, the Magician, or should I say, the politician. He comes up with the most difficult and most intricate tricks to amuse the people. He makes people believe that his so-called magic is real and that there are no tricks behind it but in fact, it has.

                  Then, there is the assistant. She makes herself look as innocent and as graceful as possible. She makes herself foolish, blindly following every instruction the Magician makes. She looks like she does not know anything, when in fact, she helps the Magician every step of the way. You see her as a foolish person, when in fact, you are the on being fooled.

                  Third, of course, are the spectators. The gullible ones, the ones who ooh and aah while applauding every time the Magician completes a trick. They are easily deceived by “magic”, which shouldn’t be magic in the first place, but merely tricks. They’re stuck on believing that everything they see is true when in fact, it is not.

                  Among these spectators are few people who know what’s going on. People who know that they are only being tricked. They know this, but they are afraid to speak out. They’re afraid, maybe because they would be kicked out of the premises if they said a word. Or that no one will believe them.

                  In the end, the Magician finishes his act. Word will spread about his greatness, his skill, his “magic”. More people will admire him. More people will want to be him, not knowing what they are talking about. But unbeknownst to these people, they are looking up to a person who has tricked them all along.