Life on a Rocking Chair

to and fro, it moves
in not so hasty way,
perceiving the touch of
the gentle wind,
narrowly observing
the passing vehicles
viewed
from the windowpane.

the pigmented doves

corroding on the roof
of a dilapidated hut.
a skinny old woman
washing some clothes;
maybe she’s tired – but
have to endure
the hardships in life.

sway, sway gradually and
let the fancy
be freed, while
conceiving the past and
the state to come. then,
she closed her eyes
and forbid not her spirit
to wander forever.

A House

At the roadside, there’s a structure,
it seems a house but I wasn’t sure.
It was built some years ago,
long before my life was brought into.

The dweller calls it a house,
but others call it otherwise
Some people name it a shanty,
a symbol of difference in society.

Built with scrap galvanized iron,
pieces of leftover woods and carton.
Some old rubber wheels on the roof,
to strengthen the foundation so soft.

Branded as informal settler,
but eloquently called a squatter.
Often disregarded by the authority,
remembered only on election day.

A squatter, a house, or a shanty,
no matter how it is called by many.
It is deemed as a decent shelter,
by those who are very less in power.

LORD, wait for me

Take me to YOUR world and beyond

Show me the things that delights YOU

The pretense of the occurrence within

And all the things that YOU abhor

Lead me to walk through YOUR footprints

Even when the waves are trying to rub it out

Lighten up the dark road that I traverse

Even when the wind is blowing out the light

Guide me when I feel the perplexity

In choosing the right path to take

When at the crossroad that seems so complex

And when I’m jolting on a bumpy road

Where do I start to begin the journey?

To reach the place that YOU prepared for everybody

Though I walk unhurriedly towards YOU

Yet, YOU patiently are waiting for me

Please do not depart from me, oh LORD

Until I recognize the way leading to YOU

Help me to muster enough strength

To speed up my motion before YOU close the gate

Backgammon

Let’s play the game of backgammon

A board game that’s so common

Show me some tricks

While moving the white bricks

Let us roll the dice

To determine our prize

To move six notches up

Or borne off and have a gap

Think of the backgammon game

It’s where our life is akin

Bricks maybe dislodged for awhile

And disjoined from the pile

Sometimes you feel like losing

For your bricks are staling

But it’s not a perpetual situation

Soon your bricks will reach its' home

To win in the backgammon game

Watch your opponent’s way of playing

When your bricks are trailing, do not waver

For you may end up the winner

Colors in the Dark

What is it that a blind man sees

that I do not see

or sensed that I do not sense.

When the world is perturb

and everyone is confused

the blind man is undisturbed.

What is it that he could grasp

but I can not accept

life’s reality that we all face.

The doctrine of life trying to ignore

cowering from the harsh conformity of facts

not the blind man’s concern at all.

What is it in his heart

that I do not possess

the courage to journey in the dark.

Braving the world of darkness

relying on a piece of stick

and there’s a feeling of contentment.

I see the color blue, brown and green

he glimpse only at the color black

his world is more colorful than what I have.

The Fury Inside

The raindrops are falling

but didn’t hear

the ticking sound

although the roof

is made of tin.

Sing like a child

recite the nursery rhyme

while keeping an eye

on the falling rain

dampen the barren soil.

Open the door and run

towards the open field

and listen to the sound

the sound of your heartbeat

contending against the rain.

Hear what it says

unleash the fury inside

the sorrow that you felt

that made your senses stiff

and deaf from the nature’s sounds.

Hazing. . . (BroTherHooD)

A man striving for his future,
Betting his life with an intent so pure,
Armed with courage and heart so brave,
Mustering the tactics to face the challenge.

Looking for a sense of belonging,
From individuals who seemed are caring,
To belong there is a price to pay,
Not an amount nor there is an easy way.

Enduring the hardships in life,
Feeling the whips on the side,
Trying to catch a deep breathe,
As hard blows hit the body’s meat.

Is this the prize of an ambition?
To withstand the sufferings of emotion,
To withstand from the hands of cruelty,
Foisted by individuals so feisty.

Considered as survival of the fittest,
Presuming everything is a test,
Unmindful that danger is in the offing,
So naïve of the ideals been embracing.

Perceiving the hopes that eyes discerned,
And someday respect will be earned,
However, gradually clasp with frustration,
As the last breath comes to expulsion.

Pondering at Midnight

In the midnight hour, I heard the sound of the clock,

trying to get some sleep but could not get it quick.
Then I start to ponder over some yesterdays events,
of deeds to regret or be grateful of life's gift.

The love that cooled, the friendship that fallen off,
the dreams, the ambition that was given up,
the hopes and frustrations been experienced,
the venture into the unknown and new environment.

The clock hands run and tick continuously,
the pondering mind resist from staying at bay.
Mosquitoes hover over my ears ready to sting.
However, it did not stop my fancy from floating.

Fly back to my yesterdays without a hinder.
Play the wooden toys in my childhood days.
Create the dreams of what I wished to be,
endured the test of times that molds the person in me.

Hop from the past and land to the room of tomorrow.
There is still a dream despite the odds and sorrows.
At times, there is also a peep of sunshine,
maybe enough to put on a little smile.

There is always a moment to ponder,
a time to reconcile with all the fancies,
and worry not from life's uncertainties,
for the midnight hour will not be forever.

There's No Stopping

The feet slowly paces along the concrete pavements,
fluid flows as sweat glands secretes.
Never mind, it will dries up naturally,
as the undershirt clings to the skin
and the hanky absorbing the flowing substance.

When was the last time that had walk this far?
Tolerating the scorching heat of the sun,
searching for every opportunity along the way,
enduring the prolonged agony of hunger,
the hardships in life that everyday suffers.

The search maybe is endless as the horizon,
beyond measure as the deep blue sea,
so obscure like exploring the atmosphere.
Yet there's no stopping though slowly pacing.
There is no stopping though the body is sweating.

There are times that feel like resigning,
for there's a feeling that everything seems are falling.
But it is not the time to shed some tears.
It is not the time to release the grip.
The sweat and scorching heat will soon fade.

Song of a Dying Love

Here I am standing
alone and so still
recollecting our memories...
the past I'm missing.

When I look up the skies
I see not the clouds
but your face looking down at me...
smiling.

When I look at the trees
I see not the leaves
but your long black hair...
swaying.

When I look down the water
I see not my reflection
but your lips reaching my lips...
kissing.

I turn around and see
not my shadow behind
but your body upon me...
embracing.

Oh, maiden of my life
I see you wherever I set my eyes
I feel you wherever I go...
but I am dying.

I will hold my last breath
until you return
and hold your hands again...
I'm waiting.

Still Longing

Suddenly, I remember you,
sneak into my memory without a clue,
found your picture in my drawer,
saw the smile that makes me quiver.

The eyes that are perfectly set,
the pearly white teeth,
the red pouted lips,
the face that perfectly shapes.

Am I still missing you?
My mind says no,
but my heart says yes,
for you still occupy a space.

The smiles that I missed,
am still longing for your kiss,
but never it will be fulfilled,
for you are already rested.

The Night-Sky

The skies are blue

but I picture it in black,

no white clouds above,

no sun that secretes behind.

I see the scattered gold

and all the jewels

that shine apart,

gleaming in different forms.

The mother pearl that I see

and all the objects

in the milky way

thrown loosely in space.

A creation of splendor

that human attempts to measure,

yet the find is obscure

for the creation is inconceivable.

The Soccer Game

The deafening sound of applause,
the roaring chants in unison.
The audience's yell in every kick,
rejoice heard in every goal made.

What a joy to see the green field,
seeing people in distinctive garb.
Running, outdoing each other,
in a sport that million people loved.

Strength and stamina the players have,
there is also some drama behind.
The endurance and the will they show,
they strive to make their country proud.

Soccer is the name of the game,
foot and legs is the players arm.
In every move people are charmed,
play to win is what they aim.

Every team wants to be in the World Cup,
it gives their country the prestige and pride.
To the players, it gives them worth,
displaying their talent to the whole world.

There's a Reason

There's a reason why we are lonely,

There's a reason why we felt glee,

In everything we experience and do,

In everything we see and encounter,

There's always a reason why it happened.

Everything was created by God for a reason,

Thus, there's a reason why everything exist,

There's a reason why we sometimes fail,

A reason why we soar and succeed,

There's always a reason why it happened.

When we were awed, we search for the reason,

We explore when the reason is vague,

We ask when the reason is flawed,

When there's imperfection, we wonder,

But there's a reason why it happened.

Will Remain a Dream

The things that have been forgotten
The manners that have been in system
The action that was focused on one thing
The life so busy yet so boring
The beautiful things that have been ignored
The charm that was overlooked
The love that was never explored
The feelings that have been stored
The thought of being contented
The notion that life has been completed
The options that were allegedly contemplated
The plans that were never effectuated
The goal that was never been reached
The ambition that was never achieved
The peak that was never conquered
The open skies that were never subjugated
These are the things in our life
That if we will not dare to strive
Will only remain in our mind
But never could be achieved and survived

Where are the flowers?

The merry month of May is here,

festivities are held everywhere.

Flowers bloom in this season,

but neither have I seen the blossom.

Where are the flowers gone?

I wish I could pick a lovely one,

the most attractive one that thrive,

to offer to the prettiest woman alive.

The once lively and colorful field,

a gloomy atmosphere it now yields.

The lovers who enjoyed the scenery,

gone are they and drifted away.

The Mayflower festivals we once enjoyed.

The festivities that brought us joy.

Gone was the merry atmosphere in May.

Gone were the flowers we longed to stay.

Longing Vaguely

There’s a silhouette on the boat,

Recognizing the figure in my thought.

Who's that person I think I know,

By the graceful ways she brings into view.

As tiny waves rush to the shore,

I stare at the moving vessel’s fore.

As it inches away from the border,

Comes the feeling of sudden fear.

When would I see that figure again?

The bodily form I should have seen then.

There may be a vague chance,

But I’m longing to see her at once.

Just a Thought

Countless times of yawning,
Yet far from being sleepy,
Eyes are wide open,
Fancy flying in the air.

Done this, done that,
Yet there’s emptiness within,
Been there, been everywhere,
But in the crossroad still standing.

Cut the house lizard’s tail,
Worrying is not the reptile’s game,
In the coming days you’ll see,
The tail will germinate again.

Ignore the passing time,
And let the opportunity fly,
Days and nights you would wait,
But never will it come at once.

The lizard’s life and fate,
Isn’t like of the human race,
For when a man’s part is cut,
Forever it will never be back.

The Last Dance of the Sparrows

Slowly, I rise up from bed,
Heard the cheerful note of the sparrows,
Weaving their nest in the nearby tree,
While the house-birds frolic on the roof.

The colored white, black, and golden brown,
So lovely as they dance on the tree,
A rare magnificent view,
Yet, so common in the country.

I rest at night not a slumber,
So calm as I sleep tight,
Dreaming of tomorrow’s sight,
The sparrows in their morning dance.

Not an ordinary morning when I rise,
Greeted by a deafening silence,
No cheerful note of the sparrows,
Nor house-birds frolic on the roof.

There I saw the woody plant,
Lying on the earth so flatly,
Depriving the birds of their shelter,
Leaving the vertebrates in disarray.

The captivating sight of nature,
The exquisite dance of tiny creatures,
The cheery mood brought by its cheerful notes,
Has gone away, it's gone away.

Never would I see the sparrows again,
Never would I witness its lovely dance,
Never would I be hopeful of a beautiful morning,
Never would I see again the sparrows dance.

LiFe

In the verge of desperation,

… people pray.

In the advent of a new life,

… people rejoice.

In time of departure,

… people mourn.

We rejoice, we mourn,

A new life comes,

People depart,

Back to our Creator,

Leaving the worldly life.

In heaven we’ll dwell.

Salita ng Politiko

Sa bawat sulok,
ay naririnig ang ingay
mula sa trumpa
at sasakyang kumakaripas.

Nagbubuga ng baho
ang bawat salita,
ngunit walang maamoy,
ni walang makita.

Sa bawat bigkas
ng pananalita,
may nilalabas na kabulukan
at galit ang bunganga.

Hindi mawari, hindi matantiya,
kung katotohanan ba
o kathang isip lamang.
Salita ng politiko, ikaw ang humusga.

White Paper

On the table I see
A blank white paper
Motionlessly waiting for my touch
Waiting for the kiss from my pen.


My flesh trembles
As hesitation strikes
The white paper is waiting
Waiting to be touched again.

I step back and peek outside
Felt the gentle cold breeze
That swiftly blowing the trees
Swaying the leaves mildly.

I turned back and look at the table
There again I see the immobile sheet
Obviously waiting for me
Waiting for my touch once more.

Ah… if only I have the courage
To feel its smoothness again
If only I have the freedom
To touch and write on the paper.