The city speaks in static
not loud, not soft, just
indifferent.
It hums beneath the sky's neon bruise,
where overpasses arc like broken spines
above rivers of unmoving faces.
I wait for nothing at the pedestrian bend
a chipped corner where the dust
gathers like the memory of a voice
I haven't heard since home.
The gum-stained cement remembers me.
The railings dull with a thousand greasy hands
do not.
Trees here wear ash instead of green.
They do not rustle,
only sigh
when jeepneys groan past
with their lungs of diesel and plastic saints.
I sit in the cubicle I do not own,
trace the fake leaf of a plastic plant,
watch the blinds half shut,
half giving in
flutter like someone trying not to cry.
And no one sees me.
And that is the loudest thing of all
Alone in this veranda
In this rocking chair I love
I see my world in many views
Right now, the field is in full green
Just in time the farmers
Planted after a month of rains
I see also the humdrum life
Besides this two-story house
A bustling street of queued jeepneys
Happen everyday that God has made
What is more exciting is beyond the field
There is a vast sea lies over there
That caught my life attention
In short, the fishing adventure that I love the most
Life is short, I keep the best for it
The bustling life, the field, the sea and me.
In the heart of the Philippine’s embrace
Is a metropolis pulsating with life
Concrete veins coursing with stories
Unfolding each day within the urban tapestry
Tall buildings stretch towards the sky
Mirroring the aspirations of millions
Each window a glimpse into dreams
A city’s determined and unflappable vibe
Streets are alive with endless motion
Jeepneys weaving through the bustle
Railing against functional dissonance
Manila reverberates with fierce pride
Subjugated by a multitude of countries
History whispers a familiar narrative
From the cobblestones of Intramuros
Throughout the barangays of the metro
A resilient energy takes flight daily
Overcoming setbacks and carving a path
The positive Filipino spirit alive and ablaze
Rising above it all as suns of a new day
Oh Manila, pearl of the Orient seas
A city of contrasts, with so much to please
From the old-world charm of Intramuros
To the vibrant energy of Bonifacio Global City, that never slows
Your streets, always buzzing with life
A melting pot of cultures, that thrives
From the jeepneys that roam around
To the street food that astounds
The Manila Bay sunset, a beauty to behold
A spectacular sight, that never grows old
The colors of the sky, a canvas of art
A breathtaking moment, that tugs at the heart
And let's not forget your history, so rich
From Rizal Park to Fort Santiago, a niche
A proud heritage, that lives on
A symbol of your strength, that shines upon
In the heart of your city, lies
A historic landmark, that never dies
Malacañang Palace, a symbol of power
A palace of presidents, that stands tall like a tower
Your people, so resilient and kind
A friendly smile, that always unwind
A spirit of Bayanihan, that never dies
A community of heroes, that always rise
Oh Manila, how you inspire
A city of dreams, that never tire
A place of endless possibilities, that never ends
Manila, with Malacañang Palace, you will always be our friend.
Walking down the streets had never been easier
There's a smile yet, there's no laughter
Seems life could never be this bitter..
Every steps seems so hard to take,
Every shiver seems so hard to fake,
Every teardrop how I'm dying to break!
I wonder if you feel the same way too?
As you ride jeepneys, passed by the places we've been to,
Oh how badly i wish, you do!
I couldn't bare any moment without whispering your name,
Call it insane,
But to me, you're the biggest fame.
Was it just yesterday?
When and where everything seemed so okay?
If only i have the right to make you stay.
O, Pearl of the Orient! The island
Of the islands in the Far East---
How nostalgic
The humming wind and the sea, the sunset
And the mountains, the rice fields and the people
The Boleros and the Jeepneys
Don’t you worry, Inay, your beauty
Is still within me
O, Athena! The babysitter
Of my lonely soul
I tiptoed, like a fog, into your beloved fortress
And sit on the ruins
Of your pasts, daydreaming
I, the poet, crowned with rhyme and verse
And well-adorned, with pearled barong
From the islands of the sea