All For Their Amore Waiting Home(A Shanty)

All For Their Amore Waiting Home
(A Shanty)

from coast to coast
they sail
welcome on board
they yell.

they moor, unmoor
vessels in ports
they secure, unsecure
cargo as well.

it’s a work
from dusk ’till dawn
all for their amore
waiting home.

off to explore
come rain or shine
the world ’round
they drift, they float,
they bob.

’round the world
they go, all for
their amore
waiting home.

at sun down
they mourn and frown
missin’ home, land
in town.

at the break of dawn
they yawn and pray
another day, to
float and play.

sea is a ghost town
it’s okay, they won’t
back down, all for
their amore
waiting home.

Author’s Note:

I am from the Philippines, the world’s largest supplier of seafarers. We played an important role in the supply of seafarers, which are the foundation of global logistics.

The Philippines is a third world country with a struggling economy, and a very few or minimal job offerings that could uplift the living condition of anyone working. In this case, young Filipino men (most, if not all) dreamt of becoming a seafarer one day, with the hope of providing enough for their families.

Filipino seafarers are the sons of fishermen, carpenters and rice farmers. They left behind lives in provincial villages where they could expect to make at $1000 a month. Ten times the amount, often earned locally.

This is the reason why despite the challenges and difficulties of  maritime work, they opted to stay because it reaps high financial rewards. And they do it, all for the love of their families and loved ones left at home.

Day 10 NaPoWriMo

Today’s daily prompt again comes from our archives. I challenge you to write a sea shanty (or shantey, or chanty, or chantey — there’s a good deal of disagreement regarding the spelling!) Anyway, these are poems in the forms of songs, strongly rhymed and rhythmic, that sailors might sing while hauling on ropes and performing other sea-going labors. Probably the two most famous sea shanties (at least before TikTok gave us The Wellerman) are What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor? and Blow the Man Down. And what should your poem be about? Well, I suppose it could be about anything, although some nautical phrases tossed into the chorus would be good for keeping the sea in your shanty. Haul away, boys, haul away!

Love Burns

Love Burns

love is a burning flame
carelessly setting you on fire with every ardent desire,
blistering and redness are all over my dermis, not to mention my heart’s swollen.
i felt the pain and the burning sensation; but my body’s rejoicing in loving content,
my love, Recto was on fire because of you.
love is actually not a burning flame but a dying ember,
it has become when you let the week slipped by,
without a word or two from you to me,
i was shook, you made me nuts.
i took your silence as you didn’t care,
and i fell deeper into agonizing oblivion.
the great Shakespeare once said “love is not love, which alters when alteration finds, or bends when the remover to remove.”
romantic is Shakespeare’s love, to which we both believed,
but romance did no good for us, young and reckless.
you undoubtedly left me dying in agony,
i, the bestfriend never a lover,
but i swear, i will be the greatest love you will ever have.
my love, you were a scaredy- cat then
but i know in my heart you were the bravest one ever.
“mahal kita kahit ano pa man,”
the locker we used to share is the silent witness of the love i never get to utter,
i was on fire, that late afternoon when me and you, made the most ludicrous foolish decision; to part ways in the silence of our screaming hearts.

Day 8, NaPoWriMo

And here is today’s prompt — the challenge is to use them all in one poem:

1.  Begin the poem with a metaphor.

2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.

3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.

4. Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).

5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.

6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.

7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.

8. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.

9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.

10. Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).

11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”

12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.

13. Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”

14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.

15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.

16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.

17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.

18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.

19. Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).

20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.


i used “mahal kita kahit ano pa man,”- a Filipino expression which means, i love you no matter what.

Recto – is one of the busiest streets in Metro Manila, Philippines

Love (A Triolet)

Love (A Triolet)

up in the sky down the earth too
we travelled, searched for love so true
medieval men to present few
up in the sky down the earth too
longed for love in all kinds of hue
some have found it and let it flew
up in the sky down the earth too
we travelled, searched for love so true.

Day 4 of NaPoWriMo

Here’s another prompt drawn from our archives – and, as usual, optional! Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.

Here’s an example by Thomas Hardy:

Birds at Winter

Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone
From holly and cotoneaster
Around the house. The flakes fly! – faster
Shutting indoors the crumb-outcaster
We used to see upon the lawn
Around the house. The flakes fly faster
And all the berries now are gone!

Triolets were in vogue among the Victorians — all those repetitions can add a sort of melancholy gravitas to a poem, but watch out! They can also make the poem sound oddly gong-like. A playful, satirical poem, on the other hand, can be easily written in the triolet form, especially if you can find a way to make the non-repeating lines slightly change the meaning of the repeated ones.



if love is patient, i wonder how do you keep up waiting for me?
are you happy out there, papa, in heaven?

if love is kind, i wonder how do you stay amiable and cordial when you’re all alone?
are you having fun in the company of the angels papa, in heaven?

if love does not envy, i wonder how do you not get jealous of others being with their loved ones?
are you lonely somewhere, papa, in heaven?

if love does not boast, i wonder how do you talk with pride to angels above ’bout your princess back home?
are you proud of me in there, papa, in heaven?

love is not proud, rude, or self-seeking, i knew it was true, for you were the nicest, the kindest, even when you were about to go.

love is not easily angered and keeps no records of past mistakes; without a doubt, it’s true, for you had lovingly held me in your arms even when i went astray.

love does not delight in evil, for you made sure to drive all the evils away nor may come near me.

love rejoices in truth, for if you can’t be honest, you’d rather keep your silence; you were true to your words even’ ’til your last breath.

tell me, papa, is heaven really like what they say it is?

is it genuinely peaceful in there?

‘cos from where i am right now, chaos is everywhere.

i hope you’re happily enjoying reading your newspaper over a cup of hot brewed coffee.

i hope you’re having the best conversation with God almighty ’bout our world.

i hope you’re dancing merrily to the tune of Beatles’ “I’m Happy Just To Dance With You.”

but papa, don’t be happier; save your happiest dance for me when i see you in heaven.

for Sadje’s WDYS



if i die, take me to the sea where i once learn life’s lessons for free
somewhere in the tropics where there’s a golden blanket of white sand
and the passing of time is as uncompromisingly beautiful as its sunset view.

please let it be you who will take me there
for i’d still write sad proses and poems
as i watch, you let go of pieces of me in the sky.

if i die, take me to the sea where i once dreamt
of my prince charming and happily-ever-after
it’s a small island where dreams do come true
by sailing on a boat or taking an adventure.

please let it be you who will take me there
for i’d still paint a perfect picture of my dreams
as i watch your tear up with parts of me, you let go.

if i die, take me to the sea where i once held on
to my wistful hopes with passion and determination
somewhere facing the vastness of the pacific ocean
with stunning beaches and coves.

please let it be you who will take me there
for i’d like you to feel how my papa raised me
as i watch you smile and bid goodbye to parts of me, you let go.

baby, will you be my muse even if i go?

For Eugi’s Prompt



how do you stop the moon from giving up his life to the sun so that it could live to shine the world with light?

how do you block the clouds from pouring raindrops onto the land to bring forth new seeds of life?

how do you stall the bees from falling head over heels in love with the scent of the flowers?

how do you end the gentle echo of the bubbling of the brook?

how do you impede the coming of the raging storm?

how do you stop my heart from beating the same beat as yours?

how do you obstruct my sleep from dreaming of you?

how do you make me not need you so desperately?

how do you catch me from falling in love with you?

how, just how?


For Reena’s Challenge

Spillwords Press Honorary Awardee

it is with grateful and humble heart that i thank Dagmara K, (editor) and the entire Spillwords Team for this award🏆🏆🏆.

“We are proud and excited to recognize The Spillwords Press Socialites of The Year 2022. They support our community, engage with other writers on, celebrate the achievements of others, encourage readers and writers alike to join our global movement via social media and that’s in addition to their literary contributions. You are true ambassadors and for that we are grateful.” – Spillwords Press

Father (A Flash Fiction)

Father (A Flash Fiction)

“i’m sorry, i couldn’t hear any heartbeat,” my doctor revealed after just a few minutes of examining my supposed baby bump. my mind went crazy, and my heart beat the fastest and loudest beat ever. i wanted to cry, but there were no tears. i wanted to shout and curse the universe. still, no sounds were coming out. my doctor knew i was on the brink of losing my composure, so she asked me to sit down and gave me a glass of water. “stay calm,” she said.

waiting for you as i held my tears was the most traumatic part of hearing the news. i could see myself heading in directions only God knows where. i wanted to run away, away from the reality that i would never get to hold in my arms the baby i so wanted to have. “you quietly came into our world, silently, and you stayed shortly. but know that you take up the most room in our hearts.” i whispered.

“i’m here for you, and i don’t care if you need to cry all day long i will stay with you,” you said while i was sobbing.

the dark underground parking area was our sole witness to how we grieve at the loss of another angel. we were both inconsolable, as God knows how much we wanted the child. but at least we have each other.

i looked at you, holding on to your composure, and you began to cry. the kind of cry i’ve never witnessed from you my whole life. the type of cry only a father could upon losing a child he never gets to hold.

written in response to the following prompts:

God (A Flash Fiction)

God (A Flash Fiction)

i live in one of the most affluent subdivisions in the city, where you would rub elbows with the richest of the rich and see eye-to-eye with influential people in politics and even in the entertainment industry. the area is 16 hectares of mixed-use shopping, residential, and leisure development. they say it is where the “ultra-rich and famous” lived.

country-inspired living meets the pleasures of city life is what our place is very much known. it provides refreshing amenities that include a freeform tropical-style leisure pool, landscaped pool deck with lounge area, children’s playground, fitness gym, shower rooms with lockers, and a multipurpose clubhouse.

some luxurious residential condominiums and towers offer generous floor layouts and incomparable views of the city. stories have it that one unit alone is bigger than the typical townhouses sold in the neighboring areas. 

it is where pets such as dogs and cats flaunt their most expensive Gucci, Prada, and Louis Vuitton necklaces or pet accessories. you would be in awe at how lovely they look. some even say their pet carriage is even more expensive than that of a price a four-seater Hyundai Accent car.

one morning i was tasked to pick up a document from a local government agency i needed for my Visa application. someone told me that i should take the shortcut route to that agency instead of taking the usual private car ride. why? they say the traffic is terrible around this time, so it’s best to walk.

i took the narrow alley, which was made available for non-residents who work within the area; they need to present their company identification cards to enter; otherwise, they won’t be able to use the access alley.

there’s no other way to say it, but i was about to enter a slum area, to my surprise. there are informal settlers with inadequate housing and squalid, miserable living conditions. it’s overcrowded, with many people crammed into tiny living spaces. i bet the garage and dog house of some houses from where i am is bigger than the tiny homes here. i bet, too, one Louis Vuitton pet necklace is more expensive than a small house in this slum area. and i bet again, one dinner from bill of a fine restaurant from my place is undoubtedly more enormous than the monthly income of the head of the family here. and not to mention that these two areas are walls apart, a ten-minute walk via the shortcut alley. 

i saunter towards my destination with a heavy heart and a mind full of life’s lessons and realizations.

the disparity of life,” i sighed in silence with a drop of tear, looking at a happy little kid in dirty muddy clothing running towards me asking for money for food. 

where is your mother?” i asked the kid.

i don’t know, maybe out somewhere selling sampaguita garlands to rich people like you,” she replied. 

i wanted to say i am just like her and that there is no difference between rich and poor in the eyes of God or even move further with me, giving my unsolicited advice that she should study hard to be able to live a decent life someday, but i was taken aback when she said, “maybe, we live in a world where no Gods exist.” she said further, “but if there’s God Madam, please tell him to give me some good food for dinner later.”

Written for Reena’s exploration challenge using the phrase “You live in a world where no Gods exist.”

voting for SPILLWORDS PRESS 2022 AWARDS is still open. i would be glad if you could head over the link and vote for my poem “LOVE HAPPENS” as Publication of the Year (Poetic). here is the link to vote: kindly find the link below to vote.

There Goes The Broken Car

There Goes The Broken Car

whose car is that? i think i know.
its owner is quite sad though.
it really is a tale of woe.
i watch him frown. i cry hello.

he gives his car a shake,
and sobs until the tears make.
the only other sounds the break,
of distant waves and birds awake.

the car is old, broken and deep,
but he has promises to keep,
until then he shall not sleep,
he lies in bed with ducks that weep.

he rises from his bitter bed,
with thoughts of sadness in his head.
he idolizes being dead,
facing the day with never ending dread.

at first i wasn’t sure if i will dive myself into this prompt. i haven’t used any of these online websites in writing not even with simply rhyming words. i’m not even aware they exist. but, well here i am and i had fun🤭🤭🤭

This week David has shared the POW, Denise DeVries’s great poem ‘Generation Gap’,

Denise’s prompt is to write the first line of our poem using a word generator, followed by between 2 and 18 lines of our own – great idea!

I used the Poem generator for my first line,