i can sing with my mouth closed
and filter the air with vibrations
coming from my strings
i allow my voice to be heard
through the taps and plucks
of my fingers, through
the quaking intensity of a vibrato
ready to bring a storm
or an oasis in a desert
there is a desire to be heard
even through the quiet
pianississimo of my song
and i sing and sing
from glide to glide,
up bow, down bow,
crescendo, decrescendo,
until i reach the
fin.
BINABASA MO ANG
Miscontrued Sentences
PoetryNo one can understand yourself better than you. But we can all relate to the feelings that are often miscontrued by media, language, and everything in between. This is my ode to poetry, to the sad, the lonely, to everyone, and to myself.
