Sarah Gamutan‘s poems have been published in many online publications including Literary Kicks, Boy Slut, The Camel Saloon, Rainbow Rose, Haggard and Halloo Publications, Voxpetica, The Beat and Mad Swirl. She lives in Philippines where she always encounters the scorching heat of the sun.
Featured Poetry of Sarah Gamutan
The man at the street is so perplexed on how
to measure the four wall of different angles -that
every time he strolls, it brings him no closure. He
made it to the store, one day, to rob a ruler to measure
how many years does he have to stay on the filthy road.
Since then, he has been reported missing by his chap as
his soul finds it really hard to calculate the numbers.
Desperation. When you just can’t leave the seat
only because you can’t miss every poem, every
line your husband writes as if he was the only
lover in the world, imagining the craziest feelings
can ever do to creatures who are only thinking
on the amor itself but not how it would cause
someone to get so mad her eyes protrude and
her flesh reach ageing and stress. Over- enamored.
Nasturtium and Its Language
The day is so frolic
When the two girls are in one room.
The girl with blond hair is Sasha
While her playmate Anne is brunette.
They are both sisters and
Their parents are divorced.
Sasha is mute and Anne is deaf.
You can see the look in their eyes
How they smile and talk -
They talk through whispers of scribbles,
Yes, through a clean sheet of paper.
Ms. Dalloway, their grandma, peers
Furtively at a place of concealment
Through a slightly opened door. She sees how they peacefully
Teach each other with their own experiences
-through a life of colors.
Sasha grabs a handful of crayons
And a clean sheet of paper.
Using a yellow crayon, she writes
The word “YELLOW”
On the piece of paper. Then, she relays
This message to her sister Anne
Saying, “This is yellow,
You got it?”
This barrier of passion-
For Sasha’s words. What comes out
Of her mouth are vowels-
Passionate, eager- to- teach vowels.
Anne, on the other hand, only
Learns through lip- reading.
Anne is younger. She needs more,
More and more;
She barely corresponds. Her language,
Too, is compromised.
All Ms. Dalloway can see from her
End is a nod of affirmation
From that young child Anne.
She takes all of those in-
The yellow and the vowels.
Her own intake.
Sasha, on the other hand, looks elated.
By her countenance, she looks happy
For her sister has learned on thing today.
She looks forward tomorrow
For Anne to learn one more word
While Ms. Dalloway at her stance
Turns back and wipes her glistening tears
With her left hand. She now calls it joy.
Her conviction that she can make it
To write these poems and not be
Intimidated with her legend in writing
And her angst
Vixen shouts at her for
She runs away
Yes that lady who just turned back
Left her footprints. Who is she?
She is no one. Just keep writing
On you hard-earned poem.
From afar I waited, I died on that line
Spoken firmly by a man who let
Me choose which poem is
Better, hers or mine
My grandma gave me music
Box before she left her soul and
Went to heaven. The box just kept on
Playing the same music over and over again.
Copyright © 2011 Sarah Gamutan