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lornapoetry by davidjoannes, december, 2007


the surface
is so hard to get past

there is a depth to you

the surface is visible to those who cannot see beyond
to those who do not notice the elegant chasms beyond your eyes

but I see into you

within the depths there is a secret of who you are
a secret I love


lornapoetry by davidjoannes, february, 2001


that nostalgic moon)whisks me
away to secret gardens of
delicious memory only
you and i are aware of those
playful days laying with
our eyes to the night Pleiades
grass blades prickly
on our backs.can’t completely
remember our mortal words
only immortal motions
within our hearts flirting
whispers attracting my imagin
ation.moon still singing songs
i’ve heard before(barren of
explanatory words because
rhythm climax chorus are
a scent,a memory)
of non-fiction fantasy
of daydreamy reality
a moment alone with you.


(the three golden stars of Rizal
meant nothing to me that moment
because I was the richest
poor man under the young moon
blowing kisses with gazing eyelids
in the darkgreen grassy park


lornapoetry by davidjoannes, february, 2001


beneath) her steady strength:
bequeathed from
someplace past the
highsky lies
of flimsy flowers’ elegancy

to hold her hand
across careless streets and
dancedancedance sweet…

her shiningsmile serenading
kings to their knees
luminous twinkling in
her eyes terrifies
starry galaxies’ crinkling majesty

her beautystrength is the terror
of jealous stars

torrential skies pour liquidpebbles
upon defenceless flowerpetals
(the brutal stoning
of delicate beauty)
she is the whisper of
flimsy flowers’ fragilestrength elegancy

“hero!hero!” from the flood calls she
lady: your fragilestrength
arouses in me


lornapoetry by davidjoannes, december, 2007

that explains it
how i so often feel:
     secluded or
          caught inbetween

i’m in limbo

.fuzzy static i want to be clear
but it all is fuddled and foggy:
                        until you appear


there is a long path
there is a longer journey
there is destination?

i grew up far from here. there
in a place (impossibly)foreign
to me is it that every
where i am transforms into the


i am foreign. it defines me.

     in the folding of your softly
     hands around my face slender
     fingers on my face your
     eyes embrace me
     you are my…

.i am home.