
The Siren Call
The Siren Call The house was the last kubo by the mangroves,green plastic chairs stacked by the door,near a graveyard of boats where cats bred
The Siren Call The house was the last kubo by the mangroves,green plastic chairs stacked by the door,near a graveyard of boats where cats bred
๐๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ด ๐๐ฆ ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ด ๐ข ๐ด๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ธ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ๐ต๐ฐ.๐๐ต ๐ณ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐ด ๐ญ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ณ๐ฎ,๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ช๐ญ๐บ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ด๐ฑ๐ญ๐ข๐ค๐ช๐ฏ๐จ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ข๐ด๐ฐ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ๐ด.๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ด ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฅ.๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฃ๐ฐ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ๐ด ๐ญ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ. ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ
This morning I cleaned an octopus. I used my hands the way I was taught -firm, but not cruel, working rock salt into each arm
Night Swimming I practiced hurtlike how pearls are made,methodically, with attention,this art of controlled wounding. This is how. First,you learn to treasure what harms you,learn
The flower openswithout violence.This is what I learned in elementary,how resistance lives in softness.I stand in the kitchen, watchingpetals drift into my teacup,thinking of my
The absence of connection burns differently than the absence of touch. A poem about loneliness and how two bodies can share a bed while their hearts inhabit separate countries.
Walking around in Sagada and finding this beautiful spider web. A meditation on grief and finding comfort in unexpected places and a reflection on rebuilding and survival.
A deeply personal exploration of mothering a child with bipolar disorder. This poem captures the quiet moments of nighttime vigilance, exploring themes of maternal love, anxiety, and hope. Part of the “Modern Motherhood” poetry series.
Anak I Sinasamba kita, paulit ulit at walang patid Habang iniaanak ng bawat ina ang mga suwail Mga sanggol na pipitas sa kanyang pasensya
Photos and what not.
Heyyy! I have these on SALE!
Where tech and AI meet the art of living creatively.
April Pagaling ยฉ Copyright Tamin Collective. All Rights Reserved.