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Poetry by Gino Dolorzo | August 1st, 2010
Your steps are heavy
like the baggage
you carry and drag
packed with uncertainties.
A flood of tears
drowns this blue hut
as you move out.
Your slouch suggests
how we will be missed
like your breakfast value meals,
the crisp of unpaid
water and electric bills,
the bittersweet song
of Totoy wailing for milk,
and the spicy blaspheming
of mother at your crucified God
for putting nothing
but salt in our rice.
I wonder how time
will fly without you
as you fly too
towards Saudi
where you will scrub toilet
bowls and urinals in exchange
for our bright future.
I wonder who will cradle
my face when my eyes turn
misty in times like this –
the way I have been meaning
to put this poem
out of its misery.
—-
Gino Dolorzo from Cagayan de Oro was a fellow at the Davao Writers Workshop this year.
Poetry by Gino Dolorzo | June 27th, 2010
Is between my lips and yours
And the rain that bathes us
Unprepared like your parting.
This time, the heat
And prick of fondness is gone.
Bitter like your lipstick
Marking its trace with pain, provoked
By the scent of your breath inducing
Sting to my chest, while my pulse ticks
Weak like my heartbeat. Maybe
Because they too sense that
Here in the street,
Where we first met and kissed,
You will soon leave me
Alone with the sky weeping
Over your footsteps, heavy
As the fall of rain creating
Ripples on this puddled concrete
Like how tears will drop, away from me.
—
Gino Dolorzo studies at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan.
Poetry by Gino Dolorzo | January 31st, 2010
For Henrietta Diana de Guzman
They cling to your name; rose.
They mark your tears and fear
of protests, protruding
like their desire to have you
slipped past my grip. Your image,
your scent is unjustly treating
me as martyr who breaks
vows worn ’round his finger. Who falls,
folds his heart and eyes, but not much
to keep resentment. Who longs to take
a dip with you in deeper sea
of blankets moistened by sweat
of your struggled movements
evoking fire and innocence.
Who has lost his limits. Lie on me,
rose, let me pluck those thorns.
Gently, let me.
—-
Gino Dolorzo is a senior education student at Xavier University-Ateneo de Cagayan.