TWO POEMS

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Clouded Verses

We write the lyrics
of the song we wish
Our hearts could have freely
sung, refrain and chorus
to the eyes and hands
That refused to meet.
alto and soprano:
The voices shattered
like unnerving hymn.
We bank on blankness
and wish there is more,
And wish there is more…
Black and white –
The first kiss
is
a tug of war
of our adjustments – in and out.
Sleep is a gift, a very special gift.
It comes at our doorsteps; most often,
It does not.
The windows create a shadow, a lining
We wait at the back
trying to make sense of
what we hear and see
How else could this blankness
be possible?

The door swept open
revealing the day’s fortune
or the lack of it.

* * *

In 22 days

We shall
never become
False witnesses
To anyone’s
testimony of
Righted wrong,
nor shall
We be
partners of
Cranes, Mixers,
against the
bearer of
Today’s news,
as we
Expect to
see the
Day in
the light
We must
carry on
The bulk
of the
Cursed history
marked on
this earth.

Never shall
we miss,
The 22
days allotted
For the
running over.
That we
must finish.
It is
an order.
An order
must be
Finished no
matter what
Age, time,
gender, and
Religion in
22 days.

WILMOR PACAY 3RD

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