Knees

There once was an old man with graying hair

Whose knees have undergone decaying wear
What once was filled with zest
Now needs some respite lest
His food is paid upfront before prepared

Slouching Shoulders
A man building stars
Ignored his aching shoulders
Feeding his daughters
 Balls of my feet
I wake up everyday to the sound of my heartbeat
I ache to lay down in the comfort of my sheets
I stretch inside the warm hug of my bed in the morning
I fetch the phone screaming as a warning

I get on my feet to start the hourglass

I fret about the shrinking window that I surpass
I stare at my feet with the callouses I got as a teen
I wear my shoes to start of the routine
I shy away from the job I so clearly despise
I pray to get back to running rampant before sunrise

I, so attached to my high school highs

I, a slave to time and my demise
I, afraid of my visit from the reaper
I, a beggar to Heaven’s doorkeeper
I, forever on a sprint away from my time
I, forever on my toes despairing after my prime
 Mole Constellations

It was believed that people's souls mark as stars.

Momma said they fly up there to light our ways,

But it is to people that they mark like scars

Because it is on their skins their memories stay.

Moles are stars made in reachable places

On skins of others we find our heaven

Of tones and marks of birth and stretches

Showing the paths their connections have taken.

Just like stars, our moles form constellations

On bodies of wonder, our endless skies,

As stars are souls that form connections

In the deepest of our minds, their stories lie.

Momma, I see the big dipper, it waits

For another mole to mark my milky way slate.

Line Intersections

Palms.

Palms do age, maturing as time goes by.

Palms do fold on creases born early to men.

Palms do draw lines of every kind.

Palms do draw lives of all paths we've touched in life.

Palms they say tell how our lives will be.

Palms they say show our fate, our paths.

Palms I think show our identity,

Our prints, our future, our history.

 But palms I think show more than that;

Their lines show the lives that have met ours.

Black Grass Plantation

There they grow on the wide plantations

On the smooth and even human skin

Where soil is in different shades and tones,

And their strands differ in thickness and sway.

I heard that not all people have them,

But I'm sure there's a reason why they're there.

No matter how much you try to get rid of them,

There, deeply rooted, they'll stay.

My arms and legs do feel protected;

They seem like hidden sensors guarding my skin-

A more sensitive extra layer of cover,

Shading my surfaces from the outside world.

But though they make my skin blurry,

How I see my body is still as clear

For what my hairs are hiding

Are never invisible to me.

Callus

My hands are callus

 They've been through a lot and its effects are visible

Feel them and recognize that they are no longer the soft hands they once were

Now they are callus

Peeled off skin and a worn out texture decorate the palms of my hand

They've been working so hard to hold onto things that they've sacrificed their quality

Feel them and realize they were never meant to be soft hands

No, they're callus hands

Day and night,

In and out,

Always working to make things to make things work out

Putting themselves under immense stress and pressure

Because life isn't meant to be easy

Life forces them to become callus

But my hands come in pairs

Meaning they're never alone

Meaning they're there for one another

Left and right are inseparable

And although they can function on their own

They always work best when they're together

They go through the rough times

They sacrifice parts of themselves for each other

And their callus marks are proof that they've survived

Callus

But together nonetheless

Sleep

I can't go to sleep

I splash water on my face

My eyes beg me to get some rest but I don't listen

I can't sleep

It's important

The screen lights up my face as I struggle to write another paragraph

But my mind's starting to go quiet

And I'm starting to realize that I can't do this anymore

 As I fold the laptop, my room turns dark again

Only then do I start to acknowledge the crickets outside my window

Its peaceful

Its quiet

It finally dawns on me

Sometimes its okay to lose

Sometimes we just need to be okay with the consequences

Because we aren't supposed to win at everything

Because sometimes we need to lose in order to let the other things win

So I close my eyes

Come to acceptance with my situation

Come to peace with myself

“Let this be my decision and let God handle the rest”

I say as I let myself drift into sleep

Hear

Our ears only listen to things we want to hear

It blankets us from the realities of the world

It upholds all the things that we adhere

And keeps us wrapped up in a curl

We often choose to keep our world picturesque

Even though the radio tells us otherwise

We choose to believe its perfect nonetheless

Despite what our teachers would advise

Our ears keep us sheltered

Earphones and speakers are armor

The television talks of issues we've already heard

But these are things we continue to ignore

For how can we face the real world, if we're not prepared

For what good is our ears, if we're not aware

Poems on childhood as seen from a kid's point of view by Ina Tañada Stories that show a kid’s sense
of wonder will be told through the poems in this segment, developed by the stories he has heard
about his body’s small details.

Poems on adolescence as seen from a teenager’s point of view by Luis Valencia This segment of the
collection details aspects from a person’s teenage years with relevant themes such as love, giving up,
and being exposed to the real world.

Poems on adulthood as seen from a grown up’s point of view by Benjamin Salalima The poems will
illustrate the challenges the persona faces during adulthood. The persona in this section struggles
with the difficulties associated with aging.

[A Collection of Poems by]

PI Tañada, RL Valencia , BR Salalima