Wondering Turns To Wandering

The room once slayed in webs and dreams, Now wakes beneath the broom’s bold beams. [Written in June 2025, this poem came to life during Brigada Eskwela. As I cleaned the classroom, I was reminded that every helping hand, no matter how small, leaves a lasting mark on the spaces where learning begins.] The room once slayed in webs and dreams, Now wakes beneath the broom’s bold beams. The spiders know it’s time to weave New tales elsewhere, they’ve got to leave. The ants will march a different route, No crumbs for them to rave about. The cockroach stroll is shut down tight, And mosquitoes? Smoked out of sight. The mouse who ruled the quiet stage Has been evicted, no more page. The mop will guide the dust to the door And the panes will be clear once more. Ooops, a slithery friend (or a hopping, croaking one) might lurk in the corner, So clean with care—be a tidy-floor explorer. Lift every box and sweep with flair, You never know what’s hiding there! Oh, scavenge smart, don’t judge too fast...

Tikatik ng ulan. Nag-aabang. Matigas na upuan. [Inspired by a one-day beach trip that felt far too short. The long journey was worth it for a place that felt like paradise. Written on June 14, 2018. ]  Tikatik ng ulan. Nag-aabang. Matigas na upuan. Sandaliang idlip. Natutulog. Naiinip. Nagdasal. Humiling. Umasa. Namangha. Naglakad. Nagmasid. Umasa. Maliliit na espasyo. Nagpatuloy. Nagpumilit. Natapos. Kumalam ang sikmura. Balik sa paglalakbay. Nasilayan. Nahaplos. Mata sa mata. Nagpahinga nang sagad. Nagising. Nasilayan. Naglakbay muli. Walang hinihiling. Sinamsam ang indayog dala ng hangin. Namangha. Nagpasalamat. Nagpaka-sasa sa paraiso. Walang hinihiling. Nakita. Nahaplos. Nag-tamang muli. Mata sa mata. At dun na rin natapos.

Maghihintay Muli ang Orasan Para sa Manggagawang Pilipino, lalo na sa mga Guro [Written in June 2025, this poem came after I cleaned my classroom with my first batch of SPJ students—a space I had barely called my own for a week before I was assigned to a new workstation.] (Since pasukan na bukas, MANAKIT MUNA TAYO NG DAMDAMIN) Maghihintay muli ang orasan sa titig mo bago ka magmadali. Hahalikan mong muli ang baso, o gagawing salamin ang plato— tanging saksi sa paulit-ulit na pag-alis nang wala pang laman ang tiyan. Gagawin mong baton muli ang kutsara’t tinidor, na para bang armas sa digmaan ng araw-araw. Magtitiis ka na naman hanggang kinsenas, magtatyaga ka na naman hanggang atrenta, habang ang talampakan mo’y nagmamakaawang huminto. Magpapanggap kang masigla sa kabila ng nananakit mong mga paa, tatawa ka sa mga batang hindi mo anak, habang tinuturuan silang mangarap sa mundong halos ayaw silang paniwalaan. Lalanghap ka muli ng simoy ng pagsusumikap, amoy chalk, alikabok, pawis, at pa...