Unfinished Song

your voice pulls the strings
of my guitar
an intro
to my world
with chords as heavy
as the blink of your eyes
when you hear my call

an acoustic made up
of memories
of verses
playing in my head
you are the lyrics of my song

a bridge to something
deeper within
your little movements
strum my chest
careless fingers

a chorus keeps reiterating
every talk of sweet nothings
each line speaks
of an unknown ending
but in pauses
coming in kisses
lingering embraces

the melody goes on
for I see no ending
to our song

Evelyn Dumag-Gabinete

This is the #potd poem of the day.

I would love to write a poem for you. See how.


Ode to the Night

when your voice is louder
because no one listens
when the heartbeat’s slower
and all reason’s on a standstill
since nothing else matters
but the passage of time

if I could, I’d stay awake
to be with the dark
to listen to deep breaths
and the song of the clock

the night feels the world’s presence
in its melancholic solitude
serving, giving room
to the ones who dismiss it
ignoring the hero
who hosts their very dreams

always preparing for the dawn
so eager to abandon
the shadow of day

I’ll be like them soon,
my friend, the night,
behind my tired eyes
your stars ever shine bright

but the pull of sleep is strong

if I could, I’d stay
but for now, I’ll rest
that I may live
to see another night


I would love to write a poem for you. See how.

A Teaspoon of Sweet

A steak is too heavy
So I’m having this

A craving, not a need
So much rare it is

A dessert and even less
A drink and even less—
A drip

A teaspoon of sweet

Rare and pure
Just a hint

Caught in the wild,
Bottled in a jar;
A teaspoon of sweet

Like the last thought
Before I sleep

Like the last dream
Before I wake up

The last light
Before the dark

The last raindrop
Before the mud

Honey on my lips
The last word,

The last kiss;
A teaspoon of sweet

Though No Snow Comes

My three-year-old asked me to put up the Christmas tree when he heard Christmas carols the other day at the mall but I don’t plan to until November. So I wrote this poem instead.

Here where I live
Snowflakes appear in September
Though no snow comes

In December, all lights are on
And evergreens lived for half a year
Though no snow comes

Autumn is but a name
We call the golden streets
Trees adorned with flakes
Of make-believe
Though no snow comes

Winter means warm
Complete with ballads and lullabies
Tales around the hearth
Made of dreams
Though no snow comes

We call tradition by its name
Holding back on nothing
Except autumn
And half a year of winter
Though no snow comes

Do hearts get warmed by cold weather?
Smiles are birthed with
Clinking glass
Browning mugs
Fuzzy socks
Dusty sweaters
All to mask the viral cold
And frostbites of loss
Though no snow comes

Here where I live
September’s unique mark
Where everything starts
With snowflakes of fallen stars
Sleds that move not
Evergreens lasting forever
Living in sealed boxes
Or standing over them
Weighed down by their fruits
Each half of a year
Warmth or winter
Though no snow comes

Evelyn Dumag-Gabinete

This is the #potd poem of the day.

I would love to write a poem for you. See how.
For other featured POTDs, click here.

Lonely Star

Come, my lonely star
We follow the path
The circuit closes
in a minute; the current is ready,
Set to take a detour
to momentarily stop the beat
Like a captured moment
on photographs.
See how our lenses meet?
Don’t blink, please;
Hold our gaze
Till the lights go off
So I’ll know your place
As you know mine.

My lonely star, hear my words
They bring you to me
Like the pull of our magnets
Forever meant to be.

Hold me, lonely star
I woke up from a bad dream
Like eggshells into pieces
My world shattered
Like yolk and white,
My tears betray me
My words won’t tell you
How my feet leave the ground
To catch the wind.

Sit here, lonely star
No distance is short enough
But I see more in the dark
And shadows say much.
The lines are cut
But the trees are still up
Like the dew on the leaves
I fall and stay alive.

Wake up, lonely star
The night is ours
Our eyes see what they cannot
Our voices call us to a place
Only we know about.

Lonely star, say no more
My feet now leave the ground;
Your heartbeat’s in my ears,
My weight’s in your arms,
No more doors to think about.
The key is yours;
We dance till the power’s out.