MAKE UP (Original Poem)

*Make-up*

You put on make-up
to enhance your beauty.
On your face
there are colors of the sky,
of wood, ocean, metal
and candy.

You put on make-up
to attract the beholder's eyes.
But you can't find a brush,
a blush and paint
for your soul and heart.
Them you cannot disguise.

SING (Original Poem)

*Sing*

sing me now a song,
afternoon.

morning
was unexpectedly mute
today.
it did not open its bud.

evening,
be ready to serenade me.

i shall save your melodies
in my ipod.

SMELLY ARMPITS (Original Poem)

*Smelly Armpits*

Your smelly armpits
oppress me.
I feel like collapsing.
But I cannot say that
straight to your face
because you look unfriendly.

If I speak against
those smelly armpits,
the Third World War
it may trigger.
You are a total stranger
among other strangers
here in this slow-moving elevator.

The Man and His Dragons (Original Poem)

In bed he lays
for his terribly sick body
tells him to slay
the dragons
of his flesh--
the gluttony of his gut
and the evil thirst of his throat.

His flesh is cursed
with a poisoned blood
and a sinful heart.
He cannot kneel
nor lie prostrate
to pray.
But he lies on his back
and wonder
if God is so remote.

In bed he stays
and knows that death
is just a gasp away.
Weak and delirious,
he calls out the Name
above all names.
Faced with dragons,
he then stiffens
after uttering,
"Save me, Jesus!"

I ONCE SAW YOU (An Original Poem)

I once saw you talk to a poor little girl.
I saw you give her something
that made her smile.
You played with her
and laughed so hard with her
until she let go of her balloon
that floated toward the sky.

I once saw you sit next to a lonely man
on a bench one cloudy afternoon.
I saw you hold his hand
and this made him bow his head
and wipe his eye.

I once saw you walk past my window.
You looked sad.
I knew not what was hurting you.
Where was the little girl?
Where was the lonely man?
Who was there now for you?

I will never be certain.
I let you walk and walk
away
until I drew the window curtain.

LOVE: Two Haikus

LOVE: Two Haikus

I
They say 'I love you'
But unalloyed with reason.
One day they'll shed tears.

II
Passion, appetite.
Oh, what is love without both?
It will be friendship.

One Very Hot Afternoon (Original Poem)

*One Very Hot Afternoon*

It's one very hot afternoon
and I'm beginning to think of malling

naked;

to think of diving into a swimming pool
of ice cream

naked;

It's one very hot afternoon
and I'm beginning to think of cursing
this tilt of the earth.

There's no winter in my country;
a truth

naked.

For the Hurting Lover (Original Poem)

Your heart limps
and it limps with you.
What used to be red,
like lips and kissed lips,
is now painfully blue.

The memories
of romance past
and of passion's residue,
are for now crutches
that support you.

Walk with your wounded heart
and limp you may go.
Love is red,
bloody red,
even indigo.

Ahead perhaps
for you is something
or someone new.

MOTHER (An Original Poem)

MOTHER

I can no longer sit on your lap,
so let me sit right next to you and wrap
these large arms around your neck
and kiss your cheeks, Mother.

Place my head on your bosom,
and cradle me,
cradle me in your heart.
Kiss me, too, on the cheeks, now tear-stained.

Mother, oh Mother,
I can't have you forever.
I can't have you forever.

Are you also crying now,
Mother?

MY GOD (An Original Poem)

MY GOD

My God has a Lamb
and I have never had
any sheep
except that One
so pure and meek.

My God has a Dove
and I have never caged
any pigeon
except that One
so holy and sweet.

My God has given them
to me, a sinner.
Of His love, mercy
and power
I shall always speak.

To a Forgotten Book (An Original Poem)

TO A FORGOTTEN BOOK

You are like a forgotten lover
without legs;
but with a spine
sturdier than mine at times.
You have not run away from me.
You have stayed where I have last left you.
But others, like you,
perhaps somewhere,
are touched and leafed through.

Do you miss my eyes that used to run
from line to line,
from page to page?
Do you miss my tongue
that used to lick my lips
on occasions when you get really interesting?
Do you miss the notes and symbols
that I used to tattoo you with,
usually on your slender margins?

I used to hold you many times.
Can you remember how often?

Let me now wipe the dust off of you.
Is it ok?

Would you like us to be lovers again?

The Body, When Mourning (An Original Poem)

THE BODY, WHEN MOURNING

There is a languid drooping
of the head and the neck
A slouching of shoulders
to shelter a heart, bleeding.
A sad bending
of spine, weighed
by multiple oppressions.

There is a weakening
of the knees, hurt
from the kneelings.
A slow collapsing
of limbs and legs,
lured by earth
for a moment's surrender.

There is a falling down.
A breaking down.

The body's tribute
to dust.

To the Atheist

define love
and tell me where
the definition comes from.

the meaning of love
is from somewhere,
something or even someone.

you deny God
and yet you know love.
now, you define contradiction.

To The Supermodel (An Original Poem)

I go beyond your outrageous clothes.
Allow me to check instead
your bony knees,
funny moving patellas,
Thighs as slim as your chances
of acquiring
believability.

I go beyond your flagrant adornments.
Allow me to locate instead
your slender throat,
clavicles apparent,
smoothened integuments,
your broken-looking ligaments.
You look remote.

Yes, that hair of yours.
Blown by the winds of caprice.
That painted face,
veiled with stony expressions,
Those measured strides,
steppings on line invisible.

You are another animal.

PAPER (An Original Poem)

PAPER

You were a tree,
a tree.

A tree was felled
for me,
for me.

A tree died
for you, paper,
for me, poet,
for this poetry.

DEATH (Original Poem)

*Death*

your weapon is hidden
from us
and
it is for us

not a sting,
not a bullet,
not a scythe,
but
it is something
just for us

your mouth is shut
you never will tell

you just give it to us
and we take it
eventually

until we give up
the ghost

you do your job
pretty well

a round of applause

THE NIGHT ON GOOD FRIDAY (An Original Poem)

*The Night on Good Friday*

Few stars I see
this Good Friday night.
So few they are.
The moon is nowhere
to be seen.
But a spill of silver light
I discern from afar.

Maybe there is drama
in the heavens now.
Angels and God,
reenacting a tragic scene.

Die
die must the Superstar.


WILLIAM SIENES III

MY GOD (an original poem)

MY GOD

My God has a Lamb
and I have never had
any sheep
except that One
so pure and meek.

My God has a Dove
and I have never caged
any pigeon
except that One
so holy and sweet.

My God has given them
to me, a sinner.
Of His love, mercy
and power
I shall always speak.

NECKLACE (an original poem)

I will collect the stars
in the evening sky
and string them
using my heart strings.

I will make a pendant
out of the moon.
Every bead will be awashed
with the liquid fire of the hidden sun.

The night shall be the pouch
of this fantastic necklace.

Wear it around your neck
when you start falling from heaven.