Gladys Marie Cubias

beautiful woman in green dress

Gladys Marie Cubias, a lawyer from the Philippines and an aspiring poet.


By the Vineyard

It’s nighttime, the city is wrapped under sheets
The moon lighted my face as I was seated in a sprawled bush
Vines and growing fruits spring like dews
Caressing the sheaths and disintegrated pollens on leaves
And watch them fall to my furling sleeves

The ruffles caught the little petals of the pastel roses
Scent of quick prances, silent breathings, and vanilla concoction graze the room
And scuffles I could hear underneath the molasses
Several rumblings of an intrepid grace.

And by the bush hides the wonderful daisies
That bloom in summers, protected in springs
Loved during winters, watched over in autumns
By the vineyard, I watched myself evolve.


Clefs and tones of the musical piece
resoundingly vibrate the entire room
Deep inflections travel in space, across the hollowed deep rows
And by every fret that makes the pervading tune
I find myself waltzing by styled accordions

It felt liberating as I slid through every corner of the columned room
Prancing around a tapestry significantly sliced
in portions and bits that build the whole gauntly frame
Couched under slits of the dancing melodic silk

Soft, smooth, and beguiling
Carousing across the bay of eyes that gaze quite sternly
Seas of dismay and flamboyance fleet away
Floating around the peculiarities of my juxtaposed feelings

Yet constantly owning the floor for hours on end
In that train of silky green dress, I’ve boldly stood
in postures freeing and breathing with sighs and happy cries
There is consonance in flailing sights.

From Dusk to Dawn

As preposterous as it may sound, I’ve waited from dusk to dawn
By this heavy rock, I’ve pondered completely on
The horizon that flashes right in my vision
Straight to my memories and disillusionments

About worldly pitfalls and enchanting embarkments
About imperfections, peculiarities, and alluring entanglements
Across satiations and perturbed disturbances
I’ve patiently waited for changes

Traversing a series of steep precipices
Hanging onto wrought handle breaks in every step
Staggers along mountain hills
Breathing heavily, hard sweat spills

That though plaintive in hindsight, and unnatural as snide
Still carrying on forward despite staggering over corrugated blocks
Over loose threads stretching to fervid heights
Dawning fecundity and might.