Fearsome roars, fearsome roars
Past nine of Monday morn,
When folks pursued the time
And works were goin’ on!
Fearsome roars, fearsome roars
The ones who buy malls
dump people where they won’t be seen
and complain if the thrown
don’t keep their dumpsites sanitary
there is the internal dumping
far too numerous to count
some throw themselves from expense
others to hide in their refuse
brokers raise high the image
sacrificing generations to sustain its glimmer
profiting from trashing people
onto burned out estates
how much longer will the dumped souls
have the strength to imagine a way up,
how long will investors
grant dead ideals their decrepitude?
There’s a boat at the beach
Which reminds me of something
That dates back when we were playing
Small minds we have, we were pretending
That we were at the sea, experts in boating
She was Estela, daughter of a neighbor
Her father is a fisherman and sometimes a labor
When I’m with Estela, it doesn’t bother him
As though I’m a son, to her daughter a kin
So off we go! As I recalled
“Toss the net, then pull in our catch”
So happy a scene, some children will join in
To play as fishermen on a boat at the beach,
that was only parking.
This game stopped cause we grew mature
Our interest drifted into other nature
I knew she turned into a lovely lady
I heard she married a man who’s wealthy
Oh those days were over
Cause now I’m more than fourty years older
But there were times I can still remember
When I visit the beach, “there we play there”
– – – – – – –
this nocturne morass
i n t e r p o l a t e s
the dusky air,
the braggart lights
poly mor phous
s i d le s
i n t e r m i n a b l e
the tailor man
a washing machine,
all colours mixed:
Tsim Sha Tsui
back in Balibago,
bl ist er ing
s n i n t r
g t h e s eet s;
a l o s t
scan for you
every starving Jollibee
you don’t feature
on the radar.
back in Balibago
Uncle Red Horse
we talk ‘til dawn,
listening to bading
quick beats for happy feet
trudging cobblestone street
singing dancing making noise
stopping doing pretty pose
crowd screaming with joy
whistling, finding new toy
mardi gras, by the seaside
not that far where i reside
Rang against the din of the windblown rain
Struck from bell towers from four directions
The wet July weather deadened the tolling
Unable to reverberate in the thick as soup fog
Eager acolytes swinging on strong bell ropes
Coaxing the brass cones to clang out loud
The bells furiously called out the faithful at dawn
Loud summons to attend the eucharistic celebration
Nuns in white with colorful umbrellas stepped lively,
Matrons with missals tucked in braided belts
Waddled through the half opened seminary doors
Rosary beads dangling, in quickened half steps
Hurrying before the wet fog turns to cold rain
A blessed Sunday morning in Barangay San Jose
My love and I eavesdropped on the early birdsong
Of hummingbirds atwitter on newly wakened yellow bells
And red mayas chattering on undulating cogon blades
The mellifluous sounds blending with the suffused peal
Of brass bells hardly heard above the foggy veil
An orderly chaos of diverse sounds melding in symphony
We paused at our wooden gate to listen to the concert
Disregarding the urgency of the muted ringing of bells
A grand performance fit for kings was being played out
At my very gate, heavenly sounds filling a misty morn
All of a sudden a wave of baritone voices broke in song
A robust Gregorian chant rode the fog within hearing
The mass had started and to church we had to rush
I went to your city
where abound are Pine trees.
I experienced an extra chill
due to the coldness of the air.
As I faced the streets,
I find no traffic;
automobiles moving moderately
across the way so lengthy.
I went to your city
where favorites are strawberries;
the created atmosphere
penetrates unto my nostrils.
I gazed at towering establishments,
among are wide universities
built unto a foundation
not shaken by mighty storms.
I now left the city
before the day gets dim,
had the ticket paid
to enjoy a lovely ride.
As I lay flat on seat,
I felt a little dizzy.
Noise, smoke and unfamiliar climate
are all feats into my veins.
Indeed the city made me sick
that caused me to leave early
yet as I reached its vicinity,
I gain a feeling of refresh.
I’m now far from the city,
I won’t look back on it.
Yet I have found you reading
when I went to the city again.
I’ve flown a long way from my nest
To search for a new life full of zest
And I felt so happy that I am really blest
In this new lovely home, I found the best.
We became flock as days passed by
My wings grew fast and began to fly high
My colorful feathers shine in the big blue sky
Flame of memories in my heart will never die.
Grateful am I to you for the things we’ve shared
My hidden talent and potentials were unexpectedly bared
The deep thoughts and emotions, I confidently aired
Thou SMI family who has truly cared.
To write poetry is our genuine passion
And use literature as a way of self expression
To the troubled thoughts, we bequeath inspiration
I swear endless perseverance for this noble mission.
Time is so sudden that I have to b
Wherever my fate takes me, I will always ring your bell
A million thanks to you, I will everyday tell
In your spirit SMI, I will forever dwell.
“thanks to all of you, my SMI Family. I fervently wish you more suc
cess, stronger brotherhood and guidance from our Lord. May you continue to shine and soar the highest horizon of your noble mission. Farewell…till we meet again…”
-Melvin M. Laureano
Tears of thunder in the twilight
Where free birds sing their ballad
Trees-shaking winds with the dancing twigs
A lovely afternoon wherein my happiness dwells..
Zephyr blows as the clouds swiftly drift
Below the sky is a nature’s gift
Stalk of grains drooping on the rice field
A celestial view on the lofty mountain’s feet..
Sweat turns gold when the chaff is cast
Grateful were the folks, three full moons past
Daffodils lined in the river’s cliff
Twinkling stars and a withered leaf
A moving picture framed in the stream
Like a wonderful journey during a midnight dream.
***Melvin M. Laureano – SMI Canada
anyone could sit
in an old park bench beneath
i’ll leave memories
The horizon, slightly clouded
And magnificently blue
Extended to the hills, the plains
And the distant peaks
The ground, green, is wet
With each blade of grass
Elucidating delights as the shade
Recede with the sun’s advance
And all around me
The countryside stretches
Where trees, horses and
Wild flowers can be seen
Another morning is spent
With the hours in retreat
Where the lull should have felt
Our amorous lips tremble
Originally posted here.
Gone is the river of our youth
So faint its far whisper
No more the way we remember
Lost to reach its meander
Ripples of the water.
O where’s the past thick morning fog
White mist had been betrayed
We used to see small fishing boats
Ghost of steam gone astray
And took the fish away.
Yet still we have these memories
Of two kids throwing stones
Of fishes darting through the stream
Of splendor no one owns
The river we have known.
These are from my memories of those summer trips with my beloved lolo to a distant town up Northern Philippines. My father told me weeks ago that this river just ‘stopped running.’
Enchanting the scenery
When I visited this island
Waves are slow dancing
Gently touching the reds
Gliding clouds beneath
sky, reflecting the vast
color of the sea.
Yes, truly amazing the
in this beautiful island