Submissions by Alviola
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
8th Nov 2024 4:46pm
8th Nov 2024 4:46pm
God at 6:00 o'clock A.M.
Dressed in what they call a long gown,
I had trouble figuring out
front from back, which string to knot
with which, I look like a man who
has buttoned his shirt two holes wrong.
Nevermind — In the umbra
of Radiology, I will not
see anyone not rightfully there.
It is quiet, 6 in the morning quiet.
For company, a sphygmomanometer
that looks like an octopus trying
to climb out of a wire basket,
a weighing scale, cubicles for
prep talks, to dress behind and where
they punch holes into arms for the dye.
I fiddle...
I had trouble figuring out
front from back, which string to knot
with which, I look like a man who
has buttoned his shirt two holes wrong.
Nevermind — In the umbra
of Radiology, I will not
see anyone not rightfully there.
It is quiet, 6 in the morning quiet.
For company, a sphygmomanometer
that looks like an octopus trying
to climb out of a wire basket,
a weighing scale, cubicles for
prep talks, to dress behind and where
they punch holes into arms for the dye.
I fiddle...
#anxiety
#faith
#vulnerability
84 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
31st Oct 2024 8:19pm
31st Oct 2024 8:19pm
'Is he dead?'
I saw a semblance of my death,
I woke and watched it, from afar, divorced
from where it happened.
Because I was not awake, I missed
the slowing of time, the sprinkling of shards,
the crumpling of car against Canter.
I woke up confined, the roof of the car
flattened like a soda can, my car crestfallen,
humbled by the truck of the working man.
I woke from what was not a dream,
nudged awake, like the nudge that says,
“you might be late for work”.
To stay awake, I drove with windows down,
radio...
I woke and watched it, from afar, divorced
from where it happened.
Because I was not awake, I missed
the slowing of time, the sprinkling of shards,
the crumpling of car against Canter.
I woke up confined, the roof of the car
flattened like a soda can, my car crestfallen,
humbled by the truck of the working man.
I woke from what was not a dream,
nudged awake, like the nudge that says,
“you might be late for work”.
To stay awake, I drove with windows down,
radio...
#TruthOfLife
61 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Oct 2024 9:16pm
12th Oct 2024 9:16pm
The Gift of the Night
The skin sees the shape of heat,
fans only make the charcoal glow,
the metal gate is like the sole
of an iron, I put ice cubes
on the bed the dogs lie on.
As I sleep, the night exhales,
cools the water in the plumbing.
Upon waking, I splash my face,
and it is a bristling comfort.
I shut my eyes and treat myself
to what is like a morning prayer.
It is warm after a while though,
I exhaust what the night provides
in seconds,...
fans only make the charcoal glow,
the metal gate is like the sole
of an iron, I put ice cubes
on the bed the dogs lie on.
As I sleep, the night exhales,
cools the water in the plumbing.
Upon waking, I splash my face,
and it is a bristling comfort.
I shut my eyes and treat myself
to what is like a morning prayer.
It is warm after a while though,
I exhaust what the night provides
in seconds,...
#hope
#morning
#sleep
103 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Sep 2024 4:26pm
22nd Sep 2024 4:26pm
A Malady They Say
I am sometimes someone else to her,
She calls me by a nephew’s name,
then asks why I never come around.
She stops mid-sentence, points, and asks me
to call a visitor who just passed
the door, a relative, now long dead.
Her day is a tapestry of giggles,
there is no plot in the TV show,
only laughter, the clink of plates
as actors eat, a grin on the screen
draws out her own; she pats a chair for
me to share in her moment, her meal.
It is a malady, they say, one only those
around her suffer...
She calls me by a nephew’s name,
then asks why I never come around.
She stops mid-sentence, points, and asks me
to call a visitor who just passed
the door, a relative, now long dead.
Her day is a tapestry of giggles,
there is no plot in the TV show,
only laughter, the clink of plates
as actors eat, a grin on the screen
draws out her own; she pats a chair for
me to share in her moment, her meal.
It is a malady, they say, one only those
around her suffer...
#aging
#mother
81 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Sep 2024 8:55am
16th Sep 2024 8:55am
Sleep Sits by My Feet and Waits
I lean back, I do not lie,
my neck secure in the palm
of a small pillow, I stay
busy until i cannot,
slipping into a sort of sleep,
book disappears to a place
I will not know until tomorrow,
the work I have set aside
enlists in the wars in my dreams
The rain outside has the timber
of the newsman on TV
There are presidents and bad news
but they are now a nonsense
Once in a while the bed calls
to the old man inside me,
to lie on my side, hand under
the peace of a pillow, inside
the...
my neck secure in the palm
of a small pillow, I stay
busy until i cannot,
slipping into a sort of sleep,
book disappears to a place
I will not know until tomorrow,
the work I have set aside
enlists in the wars in my dreams
The rain outside has the timber
of the newsman on TV
There are presidents and bad news
but they are now a nonsense
Once in a while the bed calls
to the old man inside me,
to lie on my side, hand under
the peace of a pillow, inside
the...
#aging
96 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th Aug 2024 8:13am
8th Aug 2024 8:13am
We Should Give Our Storms the Names of Our Pains
We should give our storms new names,
instead of Ondoy, Yolanda,
why not those of our leaders?
None are alike, each one a distinct force.
Some are sharp, like the ache in the small
of the back that hobbles the walk,
Some dull, like the hunger you try
to waive away with clenching,
Some come with threats, billowing
cumulonimbus, while others
do little but wink, skirting islands,
unsure whether to knock at all.
There are storms that dash across
a grassy ground made squishy,
tiptoeing, avoiding leaving mark ...
instead of Ondoy, Yolanda,
why not those of our leaders?
None are alike, each one a distinct force.
Some are sharp, like the ache in the small
of the back that hobbles the walk,
Some dull, like the hunger you try
to waive away with clenching,
Some come with threats, billowing
cumulonimbus, while others
do little but wink, skirting islands,
unsure whether to knock at all.
There are storms that dash across
a grassy ground made squishy,
tiptoeing, avoiding leaving mark ...
#anger
#apathy
#disappointment #politics
#disappointment #politics
133 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Jul 2024 12:13pm
6th Jul 2024 12:13pm
What the Child Cannot Learn from Books
When you wound a leather sofa
with the forbidden razor blade,
you see no cut but a blooming,
cotton pulp breaches skin, first peeps
and bursts out almost in delight.
When you try to punch through a pane
in a capiz window, you will
be awed by how something so flimsy
will not yield so easily, learning
that it’s not one sheet but layers.
A toy, once taken apart, cannot
be reassembled, and so joins
others hidden under the bed.
Soon you will learn that disarray
is the natural state of things.
Books cannot...
with the forbidden razor blade,
you see no cut but a blooming,
cotton pulp breaches skin, first peeps
and bursts out almost in delight.
When you try to punch through a pane
in a capiz window, you will
be awed by how something so flimsy
will not yield so easily, learning
that it’s not one sheet but layers.
A toy, once taken apart, cannot
be reassembled, and so joins
others hidden under the bed.
Soon you will learn that disarray
is the natural state of things.
Books cannot...
#aging
#childhood
#wisdom
171 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Jul 2024 00:19am
1st Jul 2024 00:19am
I Pray It Never Rains
The fire extinguishers, though
in flagrant red, you see only
when you lift to sweep under.
The CCTV screen gets glanced at
a few times a day, while
insects flit and flash white,
and nervous-necked birds eye the lens,
but the streets in camera view
do not delight the village gossip.
Those smoke alarms in every room,
stay eager though mute, promise
and potentials kept at bay.
On your way out of the house,
you pause by the doorway
and stare at the...
in flagrant red, you see only
when you lift to sweep under.
The CCTV screen gets glanced at
a few times a day, while
insects flit and flash white,
and nervous-necked birds eye the lens,
but the streets in camera view
do not delight the village gossip.
Those smoke alarms in every room,
stay eager though mute, promise
and potentials kept at bay.
On your way out of the house,
you pause by the doorway
and stare at the...
#love
#support
158 reads
10 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
27th Jun 2024 7:11pm
27th Jun 2024 7:11pm
A Ceasefire for a Genocide, He Begs
It's time for this war to end
the old white man said standing
on land irrigated with the
blood of forty thousand, blood
of mostly women and children.
It must end, for just six hours,
words wafting over rubble,
drifting through hospitals now
only morgues, whispering
through schools the children lie
under instead of learning in,
whirling through evacuation
camps evacuated by bombs.
It's time to end this war
the old white man pled, gripping
the lectern while talking
about a country he denies
exists,...
the old white man said standing
on land irrigated with the
blood of forty thousand, blood
of mostly women and children.
It must end, for just six hours,
words wafting over rubble,
drifting through hospitals now
only morgues, whispering
through schools the children lie
under instead of learning in,
whirling through evacuation
camps evacuated by bombs.
It's time to end this war
the old white man pled, gripping
the lectern while talking
about a country he denies
exists,...
#peace
#war
143 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jun 2024 1:41pm
15th Jun 2024 1:41pm
The things that make me feel rich
Hot lomi, a thick noodle broth
no one can eat with their eyes open.
Or a tin of vienna sausage, devoured
in the middle of the night, a solitary delight
Yanking out a paper napkin from its box,
This is rich, this is almost profligate.
I wipe my mouth with that thought,
with a smile the world cannot see.
The weight of a heavy cotton robe,
post-bath, even if torn at the seams
Then there is a thick blanket,
especially when colder than comfortable,
Vast so I need not bend my legs
I pull it up to my...
no one can eat with their eyes open.
Or a tin of vienna sausage, devoured
in the middle of the night, a solitary delight
Yanking out a paper napkin from its box,
This is rich, this is almost profligate.
I wipe my mouth with that thought,
with a smile the world cannot see.
The weight of a heavy cotton robe,
post-bath, even if torn at the seams
Then there is a thick blanket,
especially when colder than comfortable,
Vast so I need not bend my legs
I pull it up to my...
#happiness
170 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2024 4:06pm
25th May 2024 4:06pm
The Punctuality of Sparrows
The birds are patient, watching
the minute hand, that measure
of time our young no longer
understand, one tiny throat
starts at the stroke of five,
and cacophony commences,
They flit about in the leaves
of the Mango tree a foot
or so outside my window,
if I beg them to change when
they squeal and rattle about,
I can put that titter to use,
Red Maya, be my alarm clock.
the minute hand, that measure
of time our young no longer
understand, one tiny throat
starts at the stroke of five,
and cacophony commences,
They flit about in the leaves
of the Mango tree a foot
or so outside my window,
if I beg them to change when
they squeal and rattle about,
I can put that titter to use,
Red Maya, be my alarm clock.
#dawn
#hope
203 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Apr 2024 8:19pm
15th Apr 2024 8:19pm
Savior Dog
She cocks her head and stares,
offers a paw in the air,
The paw is a word, the stare
a question, when the liquor
is drunk unchilled, they will stare
In the coldness of covid,
the paws comforted, rescued
our souls, the whip of the tail
delighted, their noses keen
to the smell of woes and worries
she flops down beside me, her
bottom up, and demands the rub,
near and nudging, she stares when
I stop, we healed when we stroked
petted bathed nuzzled fed
...
offers a paw in the air,
The paw is a word, the stare
a question, when the liquor
is drunk unchilled, they will stare
In the coldness of covid,
the paws comforted, rescued
our souls, the whip of the tail
delighted, their noses keen
to the smell of woes and worries
she flops down beside me, her
bottom up, and demands the rub,
near and nudging, she stares when
I stop, we healed when we stroked
petted bathed nuzzled fed
...
#sadness
#love
#animals
#healing
#pandemic
188 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Alviola
