Of Poems and Solitude

The poems
that are not meant
to be

written.

And not spoken.

Pronounced
in the heart,
in the head

of the poet

perpetually
performed

And drown
in the soul's
silent applause.

Jay Protacio Mendoza
(1978-      )

Amazed

Sparks flew once

amidst the shallow,

pale shadows

of how they met long ago.

Molten irons glow

and pounded into shapes;

familiar figures.

Then he pounded further.

Deeper. Longer.

She retreated her sprawl,

back into a curl
and gripped his hair.

bed sheets turn into mountains.

pillow into rafts.

Flares rise

as he lifted her

from the depths

of her sored and soaked longing.

Jay Protacio Mendoza

(1978 -           )