Let Kids Be Kids

By Nicanor Tiosen

Let kids be kids while they’re at it –
just keep an eye for their mischief
Let kids be kids, hurry them not –
there’s plenty of time for them to grow up.

Theirs is a time for frolicking –
for toy guns, dolls, and climbing trees;
Theirs is a time for loud cries and wails –
for bruises on their knees.

Don’t promise them anything
that you’re not sure to keep;
For the next time that you fail them,
they’ll not take any excuse you make.

Never say to them, “Don’t do that!”
They’ll surely ask you, “Why?”
Better say, “Let’s do this, honey.”
They’ll give you their sweetest smile.

Guide them through school and house chores,
Give them ample time to play.
Let kids be kids but don’t forget
to teach them how to pray!

(c) Nicanor Tiosen, Even If It Takes a Lifetime

Resplendent Quetzal

(Poem for my adopted son David)

I saw you resplendent quetzal with rainbow plumes
painting the sky on the crest of the breeze,
Living in the “land of trees”;
Soaring above the white iris praying for your return.
I cannot hold you perched on a branch so free
but I capture your grace as the sunshine breaks
through the green leaves;
don’t be fluttered when love meets
your exchange at dusk,
where joy by day enjoins the sad sacrifice
at night in the valley;
your nest is nestled by the “river of salt” that washes
the sting in this season of rain;
shelter your heart while the storm drops beads
from Gods kindhearted tears,
cleansing the dust from the world and giving
Faith to your lonely fears.
Land in the green pastures and sing your song
by the still waters
and join the wings of angels reflecting praise on this
Image glimmering from this placid lake.
take courage for I have died for your sake,
“I AM” amongst the anonymity of the flock
of sparrows that travel with you;
redeeming every feather with Josephs colorful coat
and pushing out from the shore to hear
the Words from my boat;
I have chosen you to abide in me,
uncaged, forgiven and free in flight,
on this appointed time expand your wings
and shine your light.

*gleaned from Ephesians 1:5/Hebrews 11:1-3/Galatians 3:26 and 4:6-7
*The gist of the poem is how God orders the steps of everyone and the Love of the birth mother
giving up there child. Also how God redeems and heals the choices made as well as transforms
the life of each child that is adopted in this world but much greater is God adopts each and everyone of us into His family-Ephesians 1:5
*Guatemala-Some hold that the name means land of the trees in the Maya -Toltec language.
*Resplendent Quetzal is the National bird of Guatemala.
*white nun iris is national flower of Guatemala.
*David was born in Iztapa, Guatemala located on the southern part of Guatemala by the shores of the Pacific ocean and surrounded by Michatoya and Maria Linda rivers.

March 28, 2006

To Mom On Your 97th Birthday

So delicate and yet so atrong, you are indeed an inspiration

Your zest for life, your amazing sense of humour

You will alwaya be loved for being you

You must know you are a dream come true.

 

You are the envy of folks young and old

For you walk, you laugh, you talk, you’re so bold

For you, there is no tomorrow

Live and let live, that is your motto.

 

You are the queen in everybody’s hearts

You are the center of our life

Tell us no secrets, tell us no lies

The way you go just blows our minds.

 

How do you stay happy all the time

You keep your cool, are we just blind

Can you also stop the rain from falling down

Have plenty of love to go around.

 

God bless you mom on your 97th birthday

There are reasons. millions of them

Why God gave you this long, wonderful life

Why you are showered with love from heaven above.

My Two Daughters

They give meaning to my existence

They give me purpose never ending

I feel the love, the caring, the giving

Of their precious time for me, their mother.

 

There is nothing, nothing I would not do

When my two daughters are concerned

Their welfare and well-being I look after

This gives me great pleasure without them knowing.

 

My two daughters, the nearest, dearest to my heart

They make me laugh, they make me cry

Their achievements, always monumental

In my eyes they are the best, their kindness no equal.

 

At this stage in our lives, we have changed roles

I find they care more, hold my hands in case I fall

See my doctor for changes beyond my control

Eat vegetables and more of fish, good for my health and all.

 

It is very plain to see why I love them so

They care about their father, about each other as much as they care for me

I am extremely lucky to have them for my own

I wish them well for always, now and in the years to come.

 

Hold that thought

Do things not turn out the way you had planned?
Does nothing that you do seem to work out fine?
Do you feel your temper rising deep inside ?
[Read more…]

You, you

Everyday would just be complete without you

Wonderful and brilliant with no you

Yet unpainted with no hue

magkasaliwang damdamin

may manipis na lambing sumapi
nanunulay sa aking abang labi
malamang nagsidaang panahon
ay tinigib ng mga bunyi’t pighati
ngunit nanalig ang mga tagumpay
ikinasagana ng kanilang pamumuhay
[Read more…]

Not About Silence

This poem is not about silence.

It is not lambs grazing in peace

with slaughter in their hearts;

if they can afford the instinct of that.

It is not about the quiet
that is an afterdust
of a just-delivered vengeance
writhing in an amateur plot.

This poem is not about the pause
of a comatose Dad; it cannot
be proxied by the sorry presence
of homecoming however undenied.

It is not about the pent-up prayer
looking for a sabbatical god;
it is pretentious in its fury
jumping off the fences of distance.

This poem is not losing steam for a waylaid wish.
Ill put at placing remembrances of kith,
it sadly secretly drips. Of bile and blood,
this poem is not about.

Ode to Kurt

Despite this bitter life, I pray
That you will never be astray
Hope my love will guide through
The adversities this world will give you

Shadows of fear dishearten me
I am not perfect but kindly see
That I’ll be here for you always
Adoring you in all my days

It’s never easy to be without a father
But son, realize – he’s gone forever
Swallowed by oblivion, it doesn’t matter
Because we do have each other

A better man, you will be
Don’t be scared, love – never worry
Together, we shall take this journey
Enjoy this life for you are free

Terminal Tense

My youngest brother rendered

an oft-reenacted chagrin

that I had to suffer my friend’s father’s 78-rpm marches

to wear his half boots to the dance.

How could I carry that weight,

he crossed his eyes under the mophead.

Those stupid marches and shindigs won’t stop

the end of the world. Like it saved Martin if he was King.

I wondered if the waif meant margin as God’s place.

Our aunt, the retired teacher, would whisper:

“Was that why the US confronted Cuba’s missiles?”

Silently, she knew what Ezekiel had to say.

And was always calm even when Mom

raised her loser’s hell from the bingo hall (their Wall?).

For what did she care if Glenn

splashed in the ocean or excluded women.

She’d just as soon wish Dad would bring home

more than his security guard’s pay slip

(instead of the neighbor’s car-washing ridicule

when Dad fetched water). Even if Dad was quick

to blurt to himself “Worms” and got stronger.

And Mom mumbled in front of her Singer:

“Were it not for my Mother Butler sewing…”

and conjured the movies in her mind,

even used the trailers to argue with my aunt’s bible

her churchgoer. And harummphs:

“Why, even the demon knew Corinthians!”

With a shrug, my brother parked his pull toy

in its routine repose.

Advent

Abyss, the thing must have been culled from fright
There was no merit clear about its sight
The silence keen and unobtrusive slight
As sacrifice to be not recognized

There is a semblance of a laurel sheet
By wraith-like vision framed luminescent
Dickens would have with his muse been restless
Pitch to poem to method in its madness

His yin and yang still plumb the privacy
Appraising he let go anxiety
He took it in astride simplicity
And revered her English commentary.

He was by origin of sinful yolk
His white together faithful with his folk.

Advent

It must have been

an abyss.

There was nothing bright

about its sight.

The silence was keen

and unobtrusive

like a sacrifice that is cautious

not to be perceived.

There is a semblance

of a laurel leaf

framed by a vision

of luminescence.

Dickens would have been

dancing with his muse.

From pitch to poesy

to scientific gobbledygook.

He was of sinful yolk.

His white inseparable from his folk.

Tangoo Yankee

Precious gift,

So dearly lines that drift,

A straightforward yet profound,

Words that so truly kind;

Noble-

In the fountainhead;

Hear our mellow voices,

Ricochet that blend,

Tunes that linger until

the raindrops end.

Parched leaves

that once so jade,

Kisses the earth as tinge

saunter to fade;

Hands that buoy;

Wielded every mind to slog,

Feet that steered;

Night light that flicker behind the bug.

Kernels that foster by well

fashioned shovel,

Through the trinkets of

drizzle that dribble;

Stems tend to breed;

Every glint of sun rays tread.

Flower blossoms with brimming shade;

Outgrowth fully clad so decent and brave.

“Thank you”,

For a hundred years

of love and care,

A day worth remembering-

For the moments that we’ve share,

Mostly,

For the gift of our life-

Behind the delighted curtain;

Grandma is watchin’ in bliss.

“Happy Birthday Lolo”,

From our heart… so true!

LPG/C Capricornio Gas I (Anchorage at OPL Suez, Egypt)

September 24, 2009

B-day gift to Lolo

manners.

She said he doesn’t wear

his boredom well.

 

Her brother, his wife

and two children

couldn’t find the house

of the birthday celebrator.

 

They had a party-sized

pasta present they did not want

to go to waste

so came to their house

instead.

 

He was older than her

and probably knew better.

 

Regaled them with two-week-old tales

and fillers while she tried

to talk and listen

and he stifled his yawn.

 

It was all he could do

not to tell her

he tried to care

and did not choose

her relatives’