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AHRAM EMMANUEL ODENCIO PONCE


"Alas, 'tis life, 'tis life, I adore!" My ironic interjection.

Heir of my springtime, hold this precious gem I finely made.

Reach me out as I feel it--my metamorphosis. I now am in my redirection;

"And I shall put you in my red pouch," you said. "akin to my luscious lips."

Man of my dreams, my spring, would you let me give you tulips?


Enchanted as I speak before you, how could it be possible for this life to bear this creature?

My Lord, from my suppressed life that I have put in minuscule,

Maximize, I maximize! They grow, I perceive it from here. 

As I take a glance, I shall appreciate this blessed place anew! 

No place could precede this--series of my transformations.

Utopia, I had not seen you for a very long time!

Each day, I wonder how could you be this attainable?

"Love wanders," they speak in their customary living. Therefore, I express my serendipity!


O, apostrophe, from Earth, I admire your unfathomable-yet-fathomable corporeal!

Denotations utter and connotations think; the latter is my ideal.

Enclosed reality, I must not eagerly sight, for I live with these figures.

Notice me with the enticing eyes; this persistence I carry with this mighty saber.

Closed-eyes, I witness my dreamt cosmos granting me valor.

Interstellar, aye, my pleasant gaze; to you is my bestowal.

O, greatness of the North wind, give me my withdrawal!


Poetry shall save me from these storms, as I have known it.

O'er the tumult of my life, you came across fearlessly. With your pen, you are humble:

"Naught shall bear your salvation but through His abidance."

Crashing soul, it was my state, then; with your love, I shall wave them farewell!

Existence, with you, is now my known friend, and I feel it with its unfeigned embrace. 


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