Philip Emmanuel Penaflor

The gentle wind moaned
softly as I caressed your
tender body wrapped into
mine in a rhythmic ritual
...

Do your hear the silent agony of the
innocent as they lay still in the night?

We share their haunting nightmares
...

when it becomes an instrument
of division among his children;
when it is used as an instrument
of control and domination;
...

I asked a lady friend why a ring in every finger of her hands
and loud chains on her neck matched with imposing earrings;
"It makes me feel beautiful when people turn their eyes on me".
"But isn't it oppressive? " I asked her. Then turned grimfaced
...

No silver dewdrops to greet the break of a summer dawn
but the sparkling crystal frosts against the chilly winter sun,
procrastinate my spirit in a dazzling but tranquil lullaby;
Flee my mind with the wings of a fading poignant memory to
...

Would you rather let loose the sword of Damocles
dangling above my head so I could unmask the
wolf beneath my sheepskin which is suffocating
my spirit as I gaze upon the plains of Aibak from
...

I played Nietze because you played
a harlot for a Machiavelli whom you
molded a hero bigger than himself;

You knew I was ever a non-believer.
...

Did you not tell me once that
wherever I go you will find me?

The cast may be new but it’s the
same old story and you cannot
...

I see you from afar from this Gudele hill
where I stand my sight unmarred by the
clattered tin sheets over the plains of Juba
shining against the silver sky on Jebel Kujur
...

I stepped out of my room when the power
suddenly went down as my laptop became
useless, so was my mind
which had gone ahead
...

I was awakened by the solemn pitter-patter of the rain
which sounded like the monks' early Gregorian vespers;
no joyful chirping of the humming birds at daybreak,
no yelling ladies selling bread as their morning ritual;
...

I woke up in the middle of the night
because I thought I heard someone
called my name;

I opened my door and let the wind in
...

Your charm allures the gullible who
thought they found love while bedazzled
in their naivety by your scheming beauty;
And they worship you like a goddess,
...

To wilt away is part of the life story of a rose,
and so is dying part of living, and leaving part
of coming, and the end part of the beginning,
and life goes on in a never-ending cycle of
...

My cinnamon tea mixed with honey has become cold
and the flat bread has turned stale on the empty table,
as I lingered at the thought of the quiet space in my
cold rented house where time is of no essence but
...

I asked truth what is the most important thing in life.
"Freedom", she said immediately without batting an eye.
"Isn't it love, or happiness perhaps? ", I suggested to her.
"Love and happiness are fruits of freedom, for you cannot
...

"So why do people prefer to live a lie and pretend that they are
just fine when in fact they are hurting deep inside? " I asked pain.
"Illusion is the first of all pleasures", she said quoting Voltaire.
"It is easier to pretend, for any consequence of pain is superficial
...

I asked pain, my old friend, if she has found an answer
to the basic question of life's meaning, "When will you
learn to lead your feet instead of letting yourself be led
by them? " she asked me in return.
...

I woke up numb from cold bites and I realized that
the frost had crept into my window during the night;
my heart is heavy from the thought of how many
people have died from the endless staccato of gunfire
...

I cringe, I moan, in this freezing bleak winter night
not for myself but for you who have lost your love
and have been shivering for many a thousand and
countless nights which may seem to be forever.
...