If I could reach into a hat
and pull out a poem instead
of a rabbit, now that would
be something. But I don’t
have a hat and I have no
cards up my sleeve. I do
gamble now and then with
words, which are as swift
as rabbits. Some days they
are as elusive as ghosts. I am
humbled by the difficulty of
finding the right words for a
spring afternoon. I tip my
imaginary hat to the lucky ones.
ANGELS WANT TO READ MY THOUGHTS
Angels want to read my thoughts.
They want to enter my body.
Angels want to drink my blood.
They want the fruit of my heart.
In the trees outside the angels
await with the quizzical birds.
They flap their wings and sing at
my window. They want to come in.
I try and keep them from my mind.
But Angels tap on my window.
Unafraid of the barking dogs,
The Angels are persistent.
In the dark the Angels shine like
the moon and the stars. They read
my thoughts. I drink to get drunk.
The Angels want to join me.
MIDDLE GROUND
The terrible beauty is
in constant struggle
with the terrible ugliness,
each yields a bit
and each takes its jabs.
To exist in a world
without the other,
this could never be.
There's always
good and evil.
There are always
highs and lows.
We seek middle ground
to center
our lives.
We seek release
from too much of one thing.
Sometimes we need to step back,
fall into quiet solitude.
The more we say, the more we see
could destroy our inner peace.
© Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
FISH MARKET HAIKU/SENRYU II
white snappers
broil over an open fire -
the fishermen's jests
mud fish
wiggles freely -
empty ricefield
I chop
a red grouper fish -
seafood broth
skipjack tuna
frizzles in a skillet -
feast for a friend
bottles of brandy
and fried trevally -
what a day
© Willie Bongcaron
In Turmoil,
was Pakistan.
In celebration of awareness,
for all who know we are,
a shell.
Essence,
speaking to all who are cognizant of their true nature.
This nature,
manifested in turmoil
will prevail,
until the shock subsides.
Mere symptoms they were,
of a righteous indignation.
A dad's favorite child,
rose from unknown horizons of many, \
the world over.
A soul that was to manifest its gentile presence
in the halls of Harvard School Government,
and Oxford University.
Benazir B.
to you,
from many initiates,
that embraced that Celestine flame in you.
It will remain an enduring flame through your nation.
A nation's pride and joy,
that was sadly
and literally kicked to the curbside
by ignorance.
For generations,
family name will remain intact,
symbols of the flame you embraced.
Apriori Manila
Today.
No,
it was not arrhytmia, all of the symptoms were
of an infatuated heart.
Read with ang makata...
As this was composed,
in the fire of one's Celestine light.
Hers and mine.
Distance did not matter.
this was a confirmation of that fact.
Aujourd'hui
bientot. . .
© Eduardo A. Cong
Land of the sea current
Titled the land of the sea current home of the courageous people
Fought in the plain none of the opponents put in the back
Named land of the sea current having Sultanate government
From the early era defended the faith, fulfill the obligations
Land of the sea current was praised, its people are brave
Even the bones whitens but not the heels
(Never run and turn back from the fight)
Land of the sea current was showered by the blood of wise men
Raised up Islam from the cause of God
Land of the sea current is loved its people never get subjugated
From either in the fighting field to the character
Land of the sea current is rich made as business place
By the Spaniards and Americans succeeded by Japanese
Taking over to gain profit
Land of the sea current is known home of knowledgeable
An aristocratic respected by the other nations
Land of the sea current is attractive
Contested by the countries in the West because of the wealth
Land of the sea current having supernatural power
The promise of God cannot be detached
Its people have honor bound by unanimous intention
Land of the sea current described as lessons of the eyes
Gave as an heirloom for the young generations so the peace will be completely achieved
Dedicated to the Mujahidin (Freedom fighter and defenders) of before, after including to those still in the womb of their mother in the struggle to end socio-economic, political, and historical injustices to the people of Mindanao, Sulu and Palawan (MINSUPALA) region for freedom and independence!.
HOME OF TYRANNY
Blood of martyrs dried in the plains
Died in the Valley Mountains
Fighting for independence
Injustices felt when migration arise
In the island of pearls
And in the land of promise
People were put in chaos
When their land grabbed out of laws
Immigrants view as dominant foes
Once an oasis of freedom
Is now a doom of ignorance
When tyranny became lord of the land
People were driven out of their post
Were given just pinch of hope
To live life in woe forth
Oh the never ending story
Of the endless tyranny
Please leave this home happy!
Kg. Bahagia
Sandakan , Sabah , Malaysia
5:35- 6:35 pm, November 13. 07, Tuesday
BETTER NEVER LATE
Good legacy is one of a kind treasure
That will last for generations
With the bucket of love we all share
Shall remain forever
We listened with our hearts, eyes and minds
To the knowledge you have shared from within
As war of peace shall escalate then
Prejudices and biases shall come to rest
We show respect and say no fouls
As we taste the growing
ranks of peace revolutions
Pace of peace from a single "STEP"
Together with "I MESSAGE"
That we "REPHRASED" shall perish on earth
We cannot change natural behavior
But we can control
We cannot even measure how far is too far
We can never go over limit to make peace
Because there is no limit to go over it
Heart is hard to govern
Keep changing its feeling from time to time
But heart is emotionally and sincerely forgiving
Because it is naturally God given
If we have done something hurting
We shall be forgiven
Thank you and thank you
For the wisdom we learned from
you
Because saying the words
Are the most just freedom
We can do
Written during the ACCESS
Philippines Program, Peace Learning Center , Indianapolis , Indiana , USA , April 22, 2006, 2:22am
FRUITS OF WISDOM
My eyes, my heart, and my mind unlock
To violate not everything created for life
As I just came from the world of darkness
To bear the feelings of love, understanding and respect
To comprehend the movements of all beings around
I learn the right to understand my personality and myself
My value in life so I have a moral responsibility
I began to deal with life through wisdom and wishes
As wisdom comes prevails general interest from self-interest
Since I associated with clean crowd
I started understanding creations regardless of taste, colors, race, and creed.
My self-confidence, my hope, and my optimism assemble
To face responsibility and hardship
To avoid negligence, to be physically strong
Mentally awake, and morally straight
I was submitted and inspired
A GLIMPSE
New acquaintance is what you were to me
When started this journey
Exploring the world of friendship
Where mountains have to be climbed and rivers and seas to be crossed
Is such as great adventure, it seems to me
Laying down the foundation of what we call our friendship
It is definitely imperative for this young, miniature to stand firmly
Against raging monsoon and deadly plague
Say it is like a magic and I must agree
For it is beyond our expectation
A friend that we never thought would go through this way
Opening the books of our lives solely for the two of us
Creates new sense of comport and trust
Letting loose of the thoughts that whirl in our hearts
And spilling the deepest sort of emotions
Not one of us can decipher
The nucleus of our friendship’s cell
This poem inspired by the short-term intimate friendship built between two people during university days in Mindanao . The author is an Artivist (artist-activist) in the struggle to address socio-economic, political, and historical injustices towards Mindanaons, Sulus and Palawani (MINSUPALA) for freedom. Former director of the Puddang Lupa’ Sug Arts Guild (PLSAG) and Founding Chair of Youth Innovative Leaders for Development (Y-I-LEAD).
© Nelson Singson Dino (Neldyjolo)
Sa LTO
Tanong para sa driver's
license: hair color?
Kalbo'y di makasagot.
Sirang plaka
Makailang beses kong
sinabi sa 'yo:
di ako sirang plaka!
Abenida
Lahat ay manlalakbay...
'lang kakapitan
pagsapit sa may dulo.
Bastos daw
Laking palaisipan:
salitang "puki"
wala sa diksyunaryo.
© Dennis Espada
Turtles (Variation on a theme by Arkaye Kierulf)
I believe in freedom, and the freedom to believe is supreme.
I believe in Arkaye Kierulf. Yes, in the quiet dignity of horses too.
I believe in turtles, that they are better than horses, but kings and emperors did not ride on them.
I believe in Anaphora and in all it has to say.
I believe poems like this make a better day.
I believe that stupidity strengthens, depth is one of the weak’s defenses.
I believe in orgasm.
I believe that when God created the penis, he was having fun.
I believe in déjà vu, and this is one.
I believe in English subtitles for the hearing impaired.
I believe some love are just impaired.
I believe love is better off impaired.
I believe in shampoo plus conditioner.
I believe in my hair.
I believe in every tick that lives in my hair.
I believe that behind my hair is an envious onlooker.
“I believe in America,” claims Bonasera in the opening seconds of The Godfather.
I believe in my mother’s laughter, despite the denture.
I believe in headaches, they are serious and painful.
I believe in heartaches, they are even more serious and painful.
I believe fools are but fools.
I believe death is the ultimate school.
I believe in anonymity but I like my name.
I believe you should be sad about the fact that this will end.
I believe in Samuel Becket.
I believe that when a writer wants to write, he just wants to read himself.
I believe youth is overrated.
I believe this room was once a planet, and my smile was once a moon.
I believe in moon, and she too will vanish soon.
I believe in prime numbers, in what remains after divisions.
I believe shadows that remain shadows all night long.
I believe in second hand, in second life, in second chance.
I believe in poets who can dance.
I believe in my hands, the softness of my palms, my fists like our hardened hearts, my fingers are ten unlit torches of love, I believe in my hands.
I believe or I die.
I believe or I lie.
I believe another lie after a lie is less than a lie.
I believe in the silence after the sigh.
I believe in kiss.
I believe in the inevitable and the incomplete.
I believe then I forgive.
I believe in open endings,
© Lolito Go
a toad
so very very tiny
I stop
and do not mow
there
so profuse
the crab apple blossoms
make a pink cloud
but who will remember
pink petals in August
(first published in Simply Haiku, May 2004)
in the middle
of our argument
suddenly
I want to kiss away
all the fury
(first published in Poetic Voices, April 2003)
sweet nothings
whispered in my ear
are really
delectable somethings
remembered in the morning
(first published in Ancient Heart, December 2003)
peonies
in the rain lie
shattered
like our love
after the passing storm
© C. W. Hawes
C W Hawes is a human services worker who divides his time between Minneapolis, Minnesota and rural northeast Iowa. His muses are Whitman, Millay, Basho, Issa, the Imagists, Takuboku, and Rumi. He holds a bachelor’s degree in history and political science and a Masters of Divinity degree. His work has appeared in Carnelian, Lynx, Simply Haiku, Lilliput Review, Amaze, Makata, and The Ghazal Page, among others.
Tropic Sun
Flint bouncing off stones
hitting eyes so sharp
they bleed. Staring in space,
waiting for your coming,
the sun dying on my hands
I wipe away white blood
called tears.
Somnambulists
Night dying can't be quiet
here: the air sputters roars
even. Dogs cough in their sleep.
Water laps edges of dreams.
Someone rises in the dark, putters
pattering feet alone.
Phantom paws race the
light, rumbling in purple spears,
threatening bruises night
inflicts on sleep.
No one waits for night dying here:
among somnambulists day isn't
a likely light.
summer
guess where my pen glides
under what space is this: above
a sky so mauled it turns
into a shroud i wear, heat
boiling under my skin. my skin
shimmers with salt. yet,
ruffling leaves defiant in deep
summer green suck air
then puff out life: frangipanis, for one,
blaze like fallen stars.
tropic night
sometimes
it creeps
a never waning light
quite shockingly
saccharine
a wilting rose
dying out of its
tender
light
waiting
time on wrinkled sky
that's never blue, always something else
like grey, a heartless
hue, a hue no sun
can ever stand
in its shifts, shifts
time imposes: mere pauses
really in eternity
© Alegria Imperial
An endless sense of wonder is all I think I have. It has been the source of all light for me. And each spark has been a flash of words—what else could it be? A retired Manila journalist, I started writing fiction and poetry only recently. My poems are published in The Cortland Review Issue 39, Passager Issue 44, winningwriters.com, poeticdiversity.com, Poets Against War, PoetsLane, Poets Haven and Reiter's Block. Two of my three entries to the Franklin Christoph Poetry Contest made it to the First Cut. My essays are read in Passager, on tiny-lights.com and Timeless Spirit Magazine. I won honorable mention in the 2007 Vancouver Cherry Blossoms Haiku Invitational and 2007 Passager Poetry Contest.
© 2008 All Rights Reserved.
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