the half-shut door

slowly, my feet revolted

against my mind, dragging

me to the half-shut door;

borne by my limbs down

the winding stairs, i was

flung into the chilly night.

lost in the boundless

darkness, my numb thoughts

vanquished my will;

the winding stairs had blocked

my mind, dimming the effervescence

behind the half-shut door.

                                                                                                                              - by Prospero Pulma, Jr.

                                                                                                                                  Philippine Graphic

                                                                                                                                  May 29, 2006

                                                                                                                                  Vol. 16, No.51

                                                                                                                                   p.43

Love’s Misshapen Face

broken, haunted by
love’s misshapen face,
i huddled in the
darkest corner shivering.
i dare not gaze
at its uninviting eyes
and frigid smile,
or wander to the
room’s brightest corner
where love blooms
the loveliest –
and coldest.

-Prospero Pulma Jr. (www.you.inq7.net, November 11, 2005)

The Mist

she comes stomping
on the stairs
early at dawn.
garbed in the cold,
unraveling arms
of the morning,
she fades by the sea
stirring from slumber.

--Prospero Pulma Jr.- (www.you.inq7.net, November 09, 2005)