Possibly, Perchance, Can Be

By Joshua A. Apolonio

No assurance, I can’t trust all I see.

Yes, no. Things might imaginably be.

What I now think is just a random thought,

Perhaps what I think is just a maybe.

Oh, what an idea it had brought.

Maybe a fraud or still a random thought.

My Unfinished Novel

By Joshua A. Apolonio

Still, I write, and here I forego.

A pencil composes, sharing what I know.

Lamenting ideas, and here I’m contented,

I thought I’m finished, but I’ve not yet ended.

I still go write, but can’t fill the court.

I can’t deny, put a little more effort.

Rebecca's Promise

By Joshua A. Apolonio

Rebecca, I believe you’ll come here;

My love, I know that you will adhere.

I will wait for you, Rebecca, my only one.

Like what you've promised, there under the sun.

Rebecca, I know that you’ll be with me.

My darling, you’ll come here with thee.

Accepted Error

By Joshua A. Apolonio

Oops, here is such a big mistake;

How do I now erase what I did make?

Eraser may do but it still leaves mark.

Oh, impossible, like shrubs had a bark.

Seems unbearable, but let’s give it a try.

We have to admit it, oh my, oh my.

My Grandmother's Comb Clip

By Joshua A. Apolonio

Granny’s comb clip is so precious. Mother gave it to me because she said that the comb was given to her by her mother, which is Grandma, which was also given to her by her grandma, and so on. The comb is really special and cannot be lost by anyone else. I’m Tiffany, the youngest daughter of Mrs. Elsa Cruz who has also owned the comb, and who is also the youngest daughter of Grandma Teodora Pilar. Mother said that the comb is always awarded to the youngest. But I don’t think that the comb is suitable for me. I don’t have a long hair like Mother and like Grandma.

As I go to school every day, I pretend that I wear the comb. Mother gives it to me every early in the morning before going to school. Even though my hair is not that long, she still insists me to wear it.

My Friendly Enemy

By Joshua A. Apolonio

A friendly enemy. Yes, that’s what he is.

Fast as the wind, friends in nippy bliss.

Paradise he said, but I can’t feel any.

He is a dungeon where I can be free.

Deeply inside, I really can’t tell.

Am I in heaven, or am I in hell?

The Beautiful Red Caped Lady

By: Joshua A. Apolonio

She is the red rose of all virgins,

The woman a man could choose.

My lady, the mermaid without fins,

You’re gorgeous, not a duck, but a goose.

You make all of the elders young.

Your beauty is one and unique.

A Poet's Confusion

By: Joshua A. Apolonio

This is the time. Yes, surely this is.

But I don’t know what I will express.

Yeah. That’s it! I knew what it is.

My goodness, my idea’s gone on bliss.

I’m confused on what will I write.

What poet now can I be called?