Out of Tune

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Out of Tune

You could still play a song
Even without the key that's out of tune.
You could still make fanciful melody
By leaving out the single piece of ivory
That screeches when touched,
As if crying, aware of it own brokenness.

As long as all the other keys
Still produce their rightful sounds--
As long as Do is still Do,
Re is still Re, and Fa is still Fa...
As long as Sol is still Sol,
La is still La, and Ti is still Ti,
Who gives a damn about the missing key?
Who cares about the broken "Mi?"

You Know How to Shut Me Up

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You know how to shut me up.
And because of that,
I want to master the art
Of shutting you up as well.

As much as you cringe
At my futile attempts
to crack a joke
(that wouldn't even pass as a joke),
I wanna rub in your face
the fact that you also sound stupid
whenever you share something
you think is funny.
But I can't.
I'd laugh anyway.

You know how to shut me up.
And because of that,
I want to master the art
Of shutting you up as well.

Every time I talk about
a new guy I'm eyeing on,
you never fail to tell me
how amazed you are
that though I am such a skeptic
in terms of love and romance,
I kinda know attraction and "flirtationship" after all.
And though the words may sound
like clanging cymbals
when they come from other people,
it's music in my ears
when they come from you.

And I hope you know
that every time you tell me
about your new eye candy,
and how you think that the someone you like
is liking you back,
at the back of my mind I'm thinking:
My friend here has a very, very
severe case of erotomania.
I want to tell you  that you have
excessive self-esteem.
But I don't. And I won't.
I'll always prefer saying
"YES, he/she definitely likes you back!"
Cause in the first place,
it's hard not to love you anyway.

You know how to shut me up.
And because of that,
I want to master the art
Of shutting you up as well.

I've always had a knack for denying.
I've got used to people
taking my "No" as a "No."
But then there was you.
And  I hate you. I really do.
I hate it when you sit beside me
and tell me about things I would not admit.
And then I end up blabbing and spazzing,
as if under the influence of alcohol.

You frustrate me.
Oftentimes, I want to tell you to shut up
And just let me be.
But I can't. I feel like I shouldn't
For what are the chances of finding
other kindred souls
who probably know me a lot better
than I could ever know myself?

And even if there are gazillions
who can do the things you do--
from dinosaur times,
to the imagined robot times,
and countless lifetimes in between,
know that you are still one of a kind.

You know how to shut me up,
turning my pursed or puckered lips into a grin.
You know how to shut me up,
And for that reason,
I love you most.

The Man Who Has Loved

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The Man Who Has Loved

by Christine Magpayo

This is a poem--
A poem without a rhyme--
A poem about a man--
About a man who has loved--
Who has loved with all his heart.

This is a story.
Yes, a story never told--
A story never known--
Never known  even to them--
Even to  them who shared the love.

And so once upon a time...
Yes, something happened once upon a time--
Something that ended so quick--
'Twas so quick that it didn't seem real.
It didn't seem real but it was.

Now you ask what happened--
What happened to  the man?
Well all I know of is...
He is still that man--
That man who has loved--
Who has loved with all his heart.

---

The poem represents LOVE.

NATURE OF THE POEM

It had  no rhyme;

It had no measure.

Lines do not match but they do connect.

The poem tells us that there is a story but tells us nothing about the story.

Its brevity immortalizes its existence.

The endless questions stretch out and explore on different possibilities

even when the story itself deals with oblivion.

NATURE OF LOVE

Love does not require a certain degree of similarity and compatibility.

Love isn’t a science; it is immeasurable.

People do not necessarily have to be a perfect match;
what matters is they make both ends  meet.

Love tells us of stories but the profundity is exclusive to the two who are part of the stories.

There’s a kind of love that ends but lasts.

As long as there are what if’s and could have been’s lurking  in the mind,

A love that’s over… isn’t really over yet.

Cheers!

photo from http://1ms.net/change-colors-artistic-posted-120379.html | text by tine magpayo

Cheers

by Christine Magpayo

Cheers for yesterday!
Be happy for all things gone
that somehow stayed
through photographs, or notes,
or occasional trips
down the memory lane.
Good or bad, they had been
and will always be yours.

Cheers for now--
The most overlooked and forgotten
element of time
you use to recall and plan.
Wasted or worthwhile, it is
and will always be part of your destiny.

Cheers for tomorrow--
The place where where good old dreams
have the chance to turn into realities
And where broken promises
would probably come to fulfilment
in another form or so.
Be it grand or not,
It has always been up to you.

Past, Present and Future
Are gifts men often do not know how to handle.
People usually forget
That Past must not only be accepted,
but also respected;
That Present is not only
a bridge between Past and Future,
but also a moment that deserves
to be payed attention to and to be cherished.
May we never forget
That future must not be feared,
Instead, looked forward to.

To what was,what is, and what will be,
Cheers!

Awake, My Love, Awake

photo from www.fanpop.com/spots/my-dream-is/images/23899892/title/live-dreams-photo

Awake, My Love, Awake

by Christine Magpayo

Awake, my love, awake

Before time devours you.

Before it is too late,

Awake, my love, awake.

My love is beautiful,

But nonetheless asleep.

Bereft of any movement,

She seems to be half-dead.

My love is my dream—

That old forgotten one.

But now that I remember,

I hope she’s not yet gone.

My love, she must not die.

But if she does,

I know I am at fault;

The blame is all on me.

I’ve been a friend of fear,

A slave of stupidity.

If giving up is all I know,

What will I come to be?

Awake, my love, awake

Before time devours you.

Before it is too late,

Awake, my love, awake.

Without my dream, I’d be

Like most people are—

Existing but not living,

Smiling but secretly mourning.

My dream, please forgive me,

For being so unkind,

For knowing that I need you,

Yet leaving you behind.

Now my fear is that you’d be

Like slowly vanishing froth.

My dream, disappearing,

Is such a morbid thought.

Please just stay and don’t elude,

For I’ll be on my way.

This time I’ll be embracing you,

But for now listen to what I’ll say.

Awake, my love, awake

Before time devours you.

Before it is too late,

Awake, my love, awake.