pampanga back lot

the sun is a liar.

he swindles the shrubbery

each

and

every       day,

 

as   they   g y r a t e                             that

way

&         this,

scalded by his scorches.

 

he merely sneers

&   glares;

some     times

just sulks;                                                  skulks

behind

the nearest nimbus.

 

theirs’ is NO choice.

 

they     thirst   for

some   sort     of

 

salvation.

 

s   t   r   e   t   c   h     &       s   t   r   a   i   n

y e a r n i n g l y,

 

before

this   final  decollate

           wilt

i

n

t

o

 

desuetude.

 

 

 

Unwashed

Such memories don’t get washed out back to sea,
to be unseen, lost in the turmoil between
once a road and network or paths or labyrinth
but there is no power to lift up the darkness
from the heart or the dead, darkened by the sun
from a blue sky where once a wind howled
with belligerence, road rage, red-faced, pummeling
but of course, there is no remorse
for a hit-and-run victim, bloodied and abandoned
on the beach like pebbles, shells, white sand,
overran by waters, moving to and fro.

(Written with the super-typhoon Yolanda victims in mind.)

Faithful Friend

There is no other comfort
amidst the wavy turmoil
compared to the light of truth,
in God we can rest our soul.

Dance amidst the roaring tide
of whistling stormy roar,
cling to Him our boat our guide,
anchor as well as the oar.

Though we plunge into abyss;
do not fear the darkest end
for He is always with us,
Emmanuel – our faithful friend.

ylkn

By The River

~~~

swallows swooping
a white feather floats
near the footbridge

~~~

peeking through
the dense foliage
some sunlight

~~~

by the river
sketching the boat’s
lonely trail

~~~

My Orient Summer at Irosin Valley II

From time to time I hear this threat,

A loud voice since the nineties.

Out there, they might tear our forest,

In pursue of Geothermal project.

 

I’m afraid to change my verse,

My lovely thoughts of summer.

For charm of April would be no more,

And merry May is past and nothing more.

 

It’ll be like a weather-worn,

A nature blown and torn.

Our valley will cease to be serene,

And orient sky might not be gentle.

 

The flowers will be at rest,

And join the meadows to sleep.

There’ll be no calling at dawn,

For youth’s lives are stressed and bored.

 

People will pass the time as weekdays,

Rushing and tilling without end.

Up and down the blurry bend,

The blurry rivers of bygone dreams!

 

And by and by my fear is rising,

For the future of my town

It might lost a wealth in acres,

The treasure of country life.

 

The groves and trees will not remain

My sentiments to share,

Along my worried verse,

I raise my silent prayer.

My Orient Summer at Irosin Valley I

I like the charming April

And merry month of May

For they make me think of youth

As warm as summer day!

 

Where orient sky is gentle,

Our valley looks serene.

That yields the simple joy,

Immortal pleasures breed!

 

It’s when the flowers never rest

They bloom while others sleep

Much more when dawn summons,

More so our youth enjoys!

 

We pass our times like weekends,

As river drifts on bends

Down to its cleaves and banks,

There flirt our dreams and funs!

 

I pride myself for many a while,

In thoughts of an immortal town

The wealth in blue and green acres,

The treasure of country life.

 

Perhaps the groves and trees remain

My sentiments to share,

Along my idyllic verse,

I rhyme my silent care.

Seasons Play

Birds sing as buds spring
The farmer’s field is thriving green!

Sunny summer flying high
As flowers flirt with butterflies!

Blowing winds, breeze with wings
Falling foliage is what they bring!

Sleet in skies heave winter chill
Like when first snowflakes fill the air!

Travelling By Bus through the Ash Fall (Bulusan Ash Explosion)

Fearsome roars, fearsome roars
Past nine of Monday morn,
When folks pursued the time
And works were goin’ on!
[Read more…]

Poetry of the Night

The darkness creeps slowly,
upon the once bright scenery.
Shadows loom over the horizon,
as the sun sets into submission.
[Read more…]

weather unforgiving

oh! i feel my fingers hurting
way up a lift i am working
as breeze from sea whipping
with coldness i never dream
i forgot my gloves in my trunk
was too late when i was up
[Read more…]

121210 forces in stand still

calmness has spread wide
no movements even branch
birds were gone went south
severe cold drove them out
leafless almost lifeless scene
but deep in bark it’s a living

sun is somewhere beyond
too shy to show this time
even residents stay indoor
savoring their sweet fervor
keeping my feelings inside
enjoying to a moment ride

Bus Ride

The lady looked for a place

to wipe the pinky

that picked her nose.

Her straightforward face

.

never wavered at the purpose

as if it were a feat;

the furrow or two in her brow

thrown in to some extent.

.

Having exhaled the deed

she rummaged in her purse

for what one would wager

is a cellular accessory

.

and will be found wrongly;

she retrieved a possession

more prized and dabbed her nose

and dermal constituencies dry.

.

She will proceed with her privately-owned

devices while her seatmate struggled

with his wife’s influence and his conscience

against judging her mediocre toiletries.

Lumalandi ang Langit

Sa ganitong panahon,

madalas magkuyom

ang langit, di masawata

ang wala sa panahong

paghaginit ng ingay at liwanag,

at sa pagpatak ng sanlaksa-

laksang mga kalandiang-langit.

Sa ganitong panahon,

mahabang magpuyos ang init

hiwa-hiwang sinag

nangangalirang mga dagitab

sa mga durungawan;

wari’y nananapyas

mga kalandiang-langit.

Sa ganitong panahon,

para bang ang langit,

natuto na’t nakikipagdambahan

sa walang kawawaang

pamumustura ng mga taong

paiswar-iswar at paiwa-iwara

na nanganganti sa langit

033110 bamboo cage

golden rays of morning
caressing the treetops
sound of flapping wings
descended to old nest
to find the young ones
has already left; sadness

she flew and cry to heaven
circle around look at the sun
cried one more, no respond
look at the ground, broken
went close to the nipa hut
stayed there til it gets dark

[abduction of chicks from nest
is common practice from any
jungles, sadness is they take
all of them …leave something
for the mother to care]