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

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

    Every thing is nice

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Best Poem of Justine Camacho Tajonera

A Filipino Writer Of English Poems To A Filipino Writer Of Spanish Poems

I think of the whiteness of snow
on a postcard from an immigrant aunt.
How sweet, how pure
and unreal like props
in a high-school play.
The closest I have seen of it is
crushed ice on halo-halo.
Why do I end up speaking
of white things?
I feel blond -
bleached and painted over.
But this is how I speak:
misted over with a foreign flavor
but in essence a native blend
of brown and yellow.
I think of how you must have
shivered in the European snow,
words warm in your heart.
I wonder if you dreamt
in Spanish.
Perhaps we dreamt ...

Read the full of A Filipino Writer Of English Poems To A Filipino Writer Of Spanish Poems

October 28

The evening is soft
with revelations,
with ears open
to all manner of
with embraces
waiting to be
In this silent distance
even the beating
of your heart
is eloquent
and the warmth
of your hands
is all that needs
to be

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