The tree was very beautiful to me When I was a boy I climbed for fruit or out of a branch of the tree Made me a toy— A top, for instance...

This poem was supposedly published in 1912. It's difficult to verify if indeed this was the year that the poem saw print. If this is tru...

As per Wikipedia, a martyr is "someone that suffers persecution and death for advocating, renouncing, or refusing to renounce or advoca...

Strangers at First Sight is a poem by Nick Joaquin. On initial reading, the poem seems to be simple enough to understand. No fancy wordplay...

I walked towards the falling woods to teach the trees all that I could of time and birth, the language of men, the virtues of hate and lo...

Sweet little songs I make, Tunes so pure and full of love. When lovers are timid and mute, I give them voice, I make them bold. Once I b...

Ka Bel is a poem written in the Filipino language by Bienvenido Lumbera. It's one of Lumbera's most well-known and most studied poem...

On the shut door of the mind We knock, we of soul and body torn; We who serve and are ignored, Broken into pieces to be of use. Our head...

Blessed are the cockroaches. In this country they are the citizens who last. They need no police to promulgate their peace because they...

All that I love I fold over once And once again And keep in a box Or a slit in a hollow post Or in my shoe All that I love? Why, yes...

1. I’m like tripping right now I have suitcase fever. 2. Dude, man, pare, three people can be the same. 3. Except he’s not who he says he ...

it is perhaps because one way or the other we keep this distance closeness will tug as apart in many directions in absolute din how we...

The sweetness of your voice Your soul-searching eyes Throw in the smiling lips Makes my life complete Missing you, when you're gone...

Who am I to blindly believe that I can become parcel of this sacred ground? To pretend that I am a strong wind to guide your ever sturdy ...

The first one knocked At the house with his heart, No one heeded him The door did not part. And before he could think Of knocking wit...

When only the brain has poetry nothing else has; the heart is numb with emptiness, the eyes might as well be shrouded, the lips yawn wit...

Lament for the Littlest Fellow by Edith L. Tiempo The littlest fellow was a marmoset. He held the bars and blinked his old man’s eyes. ...

A Child Looks At Its Mother by Anatolio S. Litonjua Mother dear, why do you have Four candles by your side? Are they to light you in yo...

Paradox The things I planned and wanted so Held off my bidding like a foe: A past, white feathers in my hair, Applause, a scandalous aff...

On the Death of a Five-Year-Old You'll need a board, one-by-eight-by-twenty, A hammer, a saw. To start, Hold a thread on the child, vert...