Justine Camacho Tajonera

Rookie (Jan.23,1975 / Cebu City)

Justine Camacho Tajonera Poems

1. I Have Met Rome 2/10/2005
2. Waiting 10/28/2005
3. What Ditas Left 3/3/2006
4. Badger And The Jazz Musicians 9/9/2009
5. This Space 9/9/2009
6. Two Hours Early 9/9/2009
7. Gift 9/9/2009
8. Sifting Sand As Meditation 9/9/2009
9. Standing In Line 9/9/2009
10. Saying Grace At Palaisdaan 9/9/2009
11. Looking Forward To Wine 9/9/2009
12. Walking Sparta 9/10/2009
13. First Words 9/10/2009
14. It's Her Birthday Again 9/10/2009
15. Celebrating Raksha Bandhan 9/10/2009
16. The House That Jesus And Florliza Built 9/10/2009
17. Homecoming 9/10/2009
18. Mother's Day 9/10/2009
19. At Katibawasan 10/8/2004
20. Picking Up A White Feather At Valbonne 2/10/2005
21. Morning Sun 9/10/2009
22. Hidden Light 9/9/2009
23. Joining The Diaspora 2/1/2006
24. October 28 9/24/2004
25. Kay Gat Andres Bonifacio Mula Sa Isang Hudas 3/8/2005
26. The Leaf 9/9/2009
27. Afternoon Naps 9/9/2009
28. Last Day 9/9/2009
29. Floating On Batis Aramin 9/9/2009
30. Seven Years Later, Driving Home 9/24/2004
31. At The Rue De La Bucherie 2/10/2005
32. Higher Things 8/26/2007
33. A Filipino Writer Of English Poems To A Filipino Writer Of Spanish Poems 10/8/2004

Comments about Justine Camacho Tajonera

  • sweet tulabing (1/19/2019 8:00:00 AM)

    wala yamu dre.hahaha

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  • Mayazhagu Guhan (3/12/2007 9:22:00 PM)

    Every thing is nice

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Best Poem of Justine Camacho Tajonera

Seven Years Later, Driving Home

It is impossible to fall in love again
for the first time.
The first blush, the heart quickening,
racing madly with a secret:
these things happen only once.
Yesterday, in the car, only half-listening to a song,
I remembered.
And in my mind, I turned around.
If I had known that I would never
see you again.
If I had known that afternoon in August,
I would have stayed rooted there.
Watching you.
Nineteen yet and dreamy.
I felt the years deaden me, one by one.
And all the headlamps around me
blurred.
It was so sweet,
even to feel
that ...

Read the full of Seven Years Later, Driving Home

Waiting

The sound you make
is fainter than the sound
of rain softly falling outside
our windows.

I turn inwards
just to listen.

I cannot imagine yet

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