If I am to live for another 45 years,
I’d spend it writing poetry about you

only you

and let me start by saying
this brings me back to the day
I first met you

I was bewitched
and totally beguiled by you

from that day on forward
I could never take away
your charm in my head
least I know
it has taken
not only of my mind
but of my heart
and my soul longs for you
for as magical
and whimsical as it is
I was totally beguiled
and bewitched by you

for Eugenia’s prompt


I am strange
different from what is expected

In science
I am like an atom
that possess an odd number of electrons

In Mathematics I am a number
not even divisible by two
I always have one leftover as a remainder
when divided by two

They call me weird because I am different





I smile
I laugh
I even smirk at times
I don’t care how they call me

For as long as you love the weirdness in me.

for Kate’s Friday Fun


“not because you’re holding on to the
light doesn’t mean you are out of the darkness.”

Because not all lights are bound to illuminate your way. Not all good is beautiful, and that not all beautiful is good as well. Just as how you thought you’ve made the best choices, made the best decisions, and made the best and smartest moves. And, then reality hits you – you were wrong. So wrong.

Regrets filled you in.

Sorrow captured your soul.

Despair engulfed your heart.

You were supposed to be in a top-notch condition by now. Given how smart you are. Given how talented you are. And given how kind of a person you are.

What happened? What went wrong?

You don’t need to answer. It’s enough to break my heart to see you like that.

Worn out.




I don’t need to know.

But know you can rest your weary heart on me.


“and when I cry, I cry not because of the pain
I cry because of the many times I wish you were
beside me.”

It has nothing to do with you, with what you did or did not do. It’s a cry of relief, a cry of sigh, and a cry of “coming home.”

It’s a cry for all the times I believed I was right (but was wrong). A cry for the many times I messed up (but you were never there to say “it’s ok”). A cry for the moments I was brave (but I was really scared). A cry for many occasions I was numbed (but feeling the pain). A cry for all the times I needed help (but you were not around).

It’s a cry for all of my successful events and milestones and for the many times I sure did good (you failed to witness).  A cry for all the wonderful opportunities (you missed).

I cry my love because it feels so good to be home, in your loving arms.

A homecoming cry is how I want to call it.


they come in many forms
for the little ones
it could be the famous
Casper, the friendly ghost
for the adults and the believers
of life after death
it could be their friends or loved ones
visiting them after deaths
and for the joyful and adventurous ones
it could be just another spooky Halloween tale
but little do we know, or little do we recognize
the ghost that truly haunts us down
for some, it could be a childhood experience
of losing a loved one early on in life
for others, it could be a terrible heartbreak
of losing “the love of your life” for the first time
but for the silent majority
it could be a one-time big-time trauma
haunting them down as they sleep at night
for years and years and years
and that no matter what they do
it keeps coming back
as what most ghostly appearances do
it appears anytime, anywhere
uninvited, unsolicited
more so, in the darkest hour of the night
even in the silence of their dreams
and in the comfort of their
wildest, most brilliant creative imagination
it appears




until it’s gone
for just a moment

Who Murders Halloween #spillwordshalloween

Who Murders Halloween? poetry by Michelle Ayon Navajas at
My Halloween poem out now in Spillwords

It wasn’t long ago that trick or treating
was so much fun, where kids gather hanging
around the streets with their specialized masks on
creatively made by their doting moms for this occasion
as their annoyed dads yelled over and complained
of a burnt cupcake in the oven or a dish uncooked

read more…

Who Murders Halloween?

I Stopped

“I tried so hard, and that’s the thing.
Trying didn’t help so, I stopped.
And it felt so good; missing you
without trying not to.”

And all this time I thought I mastered the art of concealing, the art of hiding what I really feel. I thought I learned the tricks and trade of smiling even when it hurts, of smiling even when it pains, of smiling even when it sucks. But I guess I will never be able to learn and master how not to miss you.

I tried and tried really damn hard. But trying didn’t even ease a single hurt or a single pain. Trying didn’t even make me smile the way I do when I am with you.

The smiles they see my love are all just for the show. It’s nothing but a senseless, artificial smile hiding the reality, the truth, and the gravity of how my heart aches.

Truth is, I miss myself when I am with you.

For Kate’s Friday – Fun: ( i missed this one last week, though)

Who Am I?



I am my mother’s daughter,
dignified and loved.

I am my siblings’ sister,
adored and emulated.

I am my friends’ confidant,
trusted and honored.

I am my nation’s obedient citizen,
responsible and loyal.

I am an empowered woman,
independent and reliable.

Above all, I am a proud mother,
I who lovingly nurtures a child.

Each deepened crease in my face
symbolizes every single waking night of my life
that I sing a lullaby,
that I watch a baby sleep,
that I ensure they wake up with a better tomorrow.


for Sadje’s



I Don’t Know Why

I don’t know why
And I really don’t care why
Some are quick to judge
And driven by
Wrong perceptions
And unrealistic expectations
When all that is needed is just
One good heart to see and
One good soul to feel
What our naked eye cannot perceive