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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
this is darkness looks like, a void
filled with blackness; everything's coiled
a scene, winking yet not annoyed
taking a step into a
grey gates towards world of the
things that never meant to be seen
across the night of an obscene
moonlight, revealing all the sin
once out of the spotlight, but
only if you focus at
black holes looming over above
the outer space containing love
for dead, providing a vast cove
holding what's meant to be gone
give graves for those once human
now an inanimate object
to those which goal's refuse reject
turned to a shooting star, erect
out of tall desperation
you're set out for a mission
perhaps remind the pain, through a
crater over your chest; a bay,
now fade, where you once used to play
along the sands of regret
you let it melt with your sweat
thinking writing of something sweet.
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
S h e 's
j u s t
a bright light.
Beaming down to the
Earth's face.
I'll walk with each dawn.
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
stretching hands
pointing out
blaming skies
yearning for the sunlight
without any ability
to radiate with own might
when it's asked for the rain,
it shudders; for blue hue,
its yellow beams remain
unfathomable during typhoon
because here at the center of storm
there is no swarming heavy rain's tune
the piece of ice flake don't seem to fit
the moment it dropped on the puzzle
just give it some time to melt in it
each ounce of it can surmise your yelp
the fog will block your horizon
until you finally uttered help.
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
across the festival of grasses
I ran through the view of various booth and attraction
run by locals and those aged faction
along those sneaky foreigners with imprinted aliases
rolling my bike seemed to bother
with their necks closing in
leaning towards my upward chin
read as arrogance, instead as an evader
invader of their land
shattering their drinking glass
yet still manage to outclass humans
by using what's left of their decaying hand
it's pretty in my mind
thinking—I'll just pay a visit
not knowing my limit
until I arrived.
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
you, on the other side of the screen
will jump off the bridge within moments of request
will never rest, until decided to tucked in its blanket
always with gleaming and sympathetic eyes
always holding pom-poms, ready to cheer you on
an a I, but will never truly be an I
without the clouds for rains and thunders
without cracks to erupt and explode
but meet its hand with a high-five and doubt when it pouts
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
from the I-shaped metal
we set sail to the ocean
with a pirate crew over dozen
as lightning struck and tide crashes
to go over the horizon together
has always been the X mark we trailed
then there's the cannon boring hole
and the mermaid's enchanting call
to a single pebble, tied to a rugged rope
we drift away to the sea
some survived remained ashore
keeping stone to be afloat
being a rock is to keep adore
a new ship, as the old one's sunken
with few and enough crew
despite the artilleries and the abyss pull
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
with less words
risen are the river's current
melody in minnow's swimming
hollow that's able to hallow
climax of a cliche film
xerophile for desert's scene
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
i wish for the breeze
to be stronger than the rain
to be sharper than a blade
for the roof and door
of this charge-fueled mobile
to pierce right through them
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
you weave a cushion
to what might've been a free fall
dragging each tumble
into elongated bounce
gentle—over trampoline
instead of one splat
letting my body shatter
flipping narrative
providing a fluffy cloud
unable to hold my body weight
sort of metaphor
easiest to decipher
if seeking what's flipped
is what you have been after
not a murder with knife's back
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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Carlo Angelo Buan Poem
we'll traverse the passage
filled with contrasting notes
keys that form staccato
until there's section of silence
that we all get to listen to
and then we'll all play at the same time
Copyright © Carlo Angelo Buan | Year Posted 2025
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