This document contains several short poems or passages about thoughts, fire, stars, streets, and emptiness. The poems explore themes of thoughts emerging from the mind, the pain of putting thoughts into words, the vastness of horizons, being caught in someone's fiery passion, cries of sadness drowning out silence, streets whispering gossip, dawn breaking over a lonely figure on the street, and being emptied by cold hands that have held one's pieces for the last time.

1. Tessie
Rose’s
Portfolio

2. Thoughts are most often just circling around our
mind if we don’t speak them out loud. As they
roam around our mind, they often watch our
memories as it plays in the background and take a
peak of how the day has gone by through our
eyes. They get lost everytime but come back once
we call on them. Then if we want them out, they
gather all what they have picked up from roaming
around, form words, bid goodbye and leave our
mind.

3. Every time I allow my thoughts to
come out, they need to form words
that are beautiful. So, before they
come out, they have to dig into my
mind. The digging is painful but I
have to endure so that those who
listen to my thoughts will only hear
beautiful words.

4. Lit the candle and let the smoke comes
rushing to your aid.

5. It’s impossible to know how vast this
horizon is but I know that no matter
what, I will still find you.

6. You stood out among the crowd
because of the fire carved in your
heart. It is like a living fireplace that
gives warmth as long as you stare. I
attempted but I got caught in the fire
and it burned my eyes. Now I can’t
see you and I’m blind for all my
life.

7. I told the boy to stay quiet
So the stars can hug the lonely
planet
But instead of silence
I hear cries of sadness.

8. The street calls me everyday
whispering gossips about the reign
of the million mouths walking on its
lane

9. Sitting on the street
I saw the dawn breaks in
Shining light upon earth
Everything started to appear
Shadow creeped bigger than ever
Engulfing my knees, crawling my
lips
My eyes shed tears
Then floated in the air
I was afraid that that was it
The time has come for the street
To take me
To where I should be

10. Little by
little, your
cold
hands
linger,
plucking
everything
, until I am
empty.
But what I
like about
it is that,
at least,
my pieces
have held
your
hands for
the last
time.