A lonely figure twirls itself, concealed
by blades of wheat as clouds float through the sky.
The form, a boy, looks up from golden field
and sees the clouds as wedges of cream pie.
He hides despair as if it were that wart
beneath his sleeve. A no-fuss, lonesome lad,
he thinks of things most wonderful to thwart
forlornness. . . He rehearses being glad.
Skipping to the thicket, near a brier,
he spies some lovely flowers; standing there
he uses the demeanor of his sire,
pretends to hold a Bible, thumps the air. . .
and preaching to forget-me-nots, the boy
imagines what might be. . . imagines joy.
For Chris' Anything goes!
Still the Worst Job Ever
How do I hold thee, let me count the ways.
I hold thee trembling, beneath kitchen sinks
crouched in the darkness of the brightest days
guiding thy beam as his patience shrinks.
I hold thee dulled by lightning’s fearsome flash
shakily awaiting unseen anger
tortured by the inevitable crash
intrigued by the neediness of danger.
I hold thee wide eyed in dirt-floored cellar
your flame slow flickering on edge of sight
dimming through the range of yellowed color
draining the darkness from a darkened night.
I hold thee, for my brothers all have fled
I hold thee, not knowing what they dread.
Submitted for - Sara Kendrick - Jobs – Poetry Contest
My whinny,crabby, hungry teen
Your stinky,spoiled and quite mean
You want, you need, you have to have
The latest,newest, modern fad
Your greasy, grimy, hands smear
My wall, light switches, and the mirror
Empty snack bags,with sweet and sour
Create tall,extensive buildings that tower
Your messy,your dirty,in need of a shower
Please make it quick,not loiter an hour
Your smelly,nasty, disgusting shoes
Are slowly poisoning every room
Even with big mouth,rolling eyes and sighs
I would not trade you, I surmise
You are the salt of the earth;
Farmer, we say that to you;
You are hardworking and true;
We recognize your worth.
To the crop you give birth,
The soil, you subdue,
Cornstalks break through,
to avert famine and dearth.
But where is your son?
He’s not learning how.
He won’t be outdone—
living the life of high brow,
He forfeits work in the sun,
renounces his seed and the plow.
Cruising down the road
Wind blowing his hair
A smile on his face
Not an ounce of fear
No more asking dad
Can I use your car
No more asking mom
Can I go so far
He got his first car
A grin ear to ear
Can leave if he wants
He could disappear
His dad had a plan
A boy's now a man
Our love had been built on a firm foundation
Trust, compassion and fidelity as well
I thought there’d be no cause for consternation
We thrived for a time in a magical spell
He was my white knight and I remained his belle
Never a doubt, certainly no confusion
Any misgivings his blue eyes would dispel
But moving in marked the end of illusion
~~~~~~~~~ Volta ~~~~~~~~~~
His son emerged from video seclusion
This twenty-year-old had never worked a day
He found my presence to be an intrusion
He flung jabs in attempts to drive me away
Thought we had it all, but his son was the boss
Now I’m struggling to recover from this loss
*Entry for Dr. Ram's Spenserian Sonnet contest
Deserve the world my child,my son
If I could give, with heart I'd run
Pray instead, I must for you
Placed many tools to get you through
Life ahead unknown my son
So much I wish, your dreams ignite
Strive for all, please shine that light
Become the man I know you'll be
But please for you and not just me
Dig deep inside with every might
Strive for all thats due, you'll see
Deserving much from world, not me
Kindness, compassion, intelligence too
Owning these gifts, build confidence in you
By example, trust, live life for thee
Accept these words I give from me
My child, a man will come to be
What is it like to be my little hero?
A morning chat would mean great adventure
A ride with your imaginary aero
Would fly us to places never gone before
Inside your world, we made things possible
We are both so strong to save the world
With unique powers, you are unstoppable
Put an end to villains with your mighty hurled
Within you, I see my own reflection
Full of imagination and a dreamer
Someday your dream would have a clear perception
What best for you, I would be your defender
Every day is like a blink of an eye
At 7 years old, time hastily flies
Noel N. Villarosa
19 April 2014
Posted also in: www.pinoylifefacts.blogspot.com
Who doubts the tender love of a Parent
(whose love is here and present to the end
for showing and for giving to attend
to ev'ry son's and daughter's contentment)?
Parents love when one's loved by no other;
it is a truth of nature to commend,
a law that one cannot break or transcend:
a tenet of life unlike another.
Out of tender love, Parents pray away
the evils in their children's paths all day long
that they walk in the straight and narrow way,
and then grow wise and may know right from wrong.
A Parent's love's by far a greater love,
a child's right that no one can remove.
Brought U up 2 know right from WRONG
Was hard on U so you’d B STRONG
Looked up 1 day & U was GONE
Chasin Raw Dollaz, go getta getting ON
Somebody told me U got crossed at the SPOT
One drop of a dime & the Block got HOT
Held back my tears, got ova the SHOCK
Swallowed my fears, put my jewels in HOCK
I know at first it was done for ME
That’s why I come to set U FREE
So U may Repent B4 U enter a PLEA
Face the consequence multiplied by THREE
I got this feeling this may Be my DOIN
2 hard on U coulda lead to yo RUIN
My bad lil one I didn’t KNOW
I held so much love I failed to SHOW
U needed yo Momma, it makes me SAD
I worked all nite, neva knew yo DAD
But you’ll be A’ite, give it time you’ll SEE
It’z hard to admit but U a beast like ME
Datz why I accept U 4 who U ARE
A man, A Felon, My Sun, My STAR
MOTHER AND SON RE-UNITE
I was phoned by an old friend Blessing,
Who told me that her one and only son,
Who was once reported missing,
Has been found after a decade lying in sweltering sun.
In his pre school years or somewhere there about,
She left him in care of elderly nurse in white,
In the trust she did not doubt,
On returning, the nurse and the boy were all out of sight!
The news that the hospital did not employ that nurse,
Send in my friend’s heart, a terrible fright!
When the nurse and the boy’s descriptions were finally broadcast,
Brought in the inside of the nurse, the worse!
As the law net finally closed, the nurse deserted him in broad day light,
Her heart beating very fast, she outran the police in the ever-whirling dust!
Me the infant, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s L’Enfant moi by T. Wignesan
The infant a stranger to me who grew up poet
You whom he missed even in his sleep
He who had to disinter himself upon waking
Every day in his quest with increasing effort
He who had not known your breast nor lap
Manically he sought your odour in bed clothes
Sniffed under the covers your sphinge haïr
And searched every bush for your mystic antrum
In vain forgot blackness of breasts in death
More avidly survives the memory of your milk
Longer I live more the haunting infant pleases me
When the eternel Night projects her by the threshold
At death the infant’s visited by the maternal shadow
Dissociated as two blue perfect globular moons
Note : Original rhyme schème of sonnet :
abba cddc effe gh)
( from Sophia, O.C. t. II, p. 348)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 15, 2014
Mother and son, a moment in time,
One wants to live, the other to drive.
First of firsts, young son at her wheel,
Both on a journey, spanning their lives.
Indian summer, bluebonnet skies,
Escaping together into painted fields.
One from the cage with its rigid design,
And one from the sadness that family yields.
Exhilaration, he drives through his fears,
Faster and faster, wheels hum and glide.
Silent emotion, she tempers her tears,
Out on the highway they sit side by side.
All those years later, with memory pure,
His son sits beside him, steady and sure.
In that similitude of man and gaze
I am akin you and you akin me,
And in me are your Arthurian ways -
Old man, I am your son and proud to be!
In the dark days and darker nights of us
When over our home hung a deadly ken,
I saw myself in all that you compass
And repute you among the best of men.
So it is in the time of tide and flow
That between us there was ebb and distance,
Yet I know I will miss you when you go
And hold dear the years of least resistance.
I have a son, and love him more I can't:
He in time might forget you but I shan't.
Daddy's underemployed cain't pay all the BILLS
When it gets so hard U see y people STEAL
Trust Me Bruh, I know how ya FEEL
Exhausted from runnin, trouble nippin at ya HEELZ
Brotha slow down, ain't u had ENUFF?
Put that bundle down, this ain't no BLUFF
Now u messed around & got ya new shoes SCUFFED
When they grabbed U & slammed U, into HANDCUFFS
Man itz tuff, yea I'll give u THAT
Sometimes muffed up as a matter of FACT
But U can't let the BS hold u BACK
Cuz sometimes it be just like THAT
Nobody said it would be easy, it wasn't BEFORE
My ancestors’ blood left open a DOOR
But that don't mean we won't struggle TOO
Who was that who said life's hard? Itz TRUE
So gather yo witts, strength & good WILL
We at war with them & ourselves fa REAL
Neva nonchalant cuz itz a big DEAL
Trust me Bruh, I know how U FEEL.
Keep ya head Up
Written & copyrighted by Tone Jaxson
(A Blank Verse Sonnet)
The couch, a central theme in room's décor
of hunter green, sky blue and dusty mauve,
served well for years as extra bed for guests,
a restful place for favored pet to nap,
and seat where Grandkids loved to watch cartoons.
Though loath to part with such a gem, we gave
the couch a home in daughter's basement den,
until son's wife gave notice of divorce
and he was forced to find a new abode.
He shopped and found the perfect couch and chair
but finance rate has caused him to desist.
Although the condo's empty rooms brought gloom
he put his dreams on hold, agreed to wait,
then claimed the sturdy couch to serve once more.
Forgiveness of Sins / God's Love & Mercy
Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.'
So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.
When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need.
Coming to his senses he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger.
I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers."'
So he got up and went back to his father.
While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion.
He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him; His son said to him,
'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.
But his father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet...
Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.' Then the celebration began.
Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him.
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours; but now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" (Taken from LK 15:11-14, 17-25, 28, 31-32)
Mine are the firstfruits out of clay and dust
That to one patient in hope bear reward;
A boy whose reason is kindly and just
And who, well affectioned, is well adored!
Do that the burdened profit by your hand -
If trespass you must, so do in selfhood,
Recompense good for good - in truth upstand,
And purpose yourself that others so would.
Therefore be not wise in your own conceits
Nor debtor to love and unrighteous breadth;
Walk safely in the world in all your feats
Lest it suffer me and quicken my death.
Make your way like Him ragged and unshod,
And bend your knee unto no-one but God.
By the grace given me one year older
Great is the bearer of my salvation;
And I, father, keeper, and upholder,
Glory in the sum of my creation!
Follow your heart and speak its depth and scope,
And let not dreams be spoken of as fear.
Remember to remain joyful in hope,
Patient in affliction, faithful in prayer!
Do not spoil or vex but contrary do
When this world means to oppose or revenge;
Be steadfast in what you know to be true
And forsake what is not yours to avenge.
To you ascribed are the fortunes of youth -
Its virtual joys and virtual truth.
Still silence speaks in solemn grip;
Observe the mood of sadness here;
Note that high peak as death now trips.
Opt then sad brood a choice sincere;
Feed the gumption to move ahead.
Seed the vision to forge anew;
Indulge passion to face grave dread;
Niche sure action to earn fine dues;
Glimpse then the truth most pragmatic;
Align your heart and mind one whole;
Poise creates proof most dynamic;
Offer clear start with all your soul;
Rise to unfurl your cause and state;
Express and hurl decisive fate.
26 March 2015
When only in my state of thanksgiving
I count riches and all avail it brings;
I am imbued of great joy reliving
And I am wiser to wonderful things.
Memento Mori and Carpe Diem!
There is much to see and much to begin,
So live well and long that in years to come
You not look back and muse what might have been!
Now if from your helping cause I abstain,
Or when in lonesome brooding I am sad
In futile excess, I'll beg once again
To hear you curing say "I love you dad!"
Oh wife and child it's you and only you
That makes me love and do the things I do.
It is no small mercy, no small ransom,
No trifling importance favoured on me:
You are a child in time whose time has come,
And I love you, Little Man, desperately!
For I am cheerful in hope and all things
That the bright stars are yours to noble aim,
And guide you to the Valley of the Kings
Or ghost ship treasure on the Spanish Main.
Let adventure and crossing fill your days
And may God watch over you to your grave!
So learn well beginning in youthful gaze
That time is your master and not your slave.
You are to me by a nature so great
Living proof good things come to those who wait.
'Twas early spring in my thirty-ninth year
When that which I covet most brought new lease,
And on my first watch would elated stare
Upon worshipped eyes shut in newborn peace.
Thirty-nine years before first gazed my own -
My tiny hands clutched in my father's palms;
O but that love was hidden and not shown,
And thus I shall spare you no such alarms!
In your helpless lay - in first sleep of babes,
The future becomes yours, and now I trust
I will see your own before my life trades,
And remember to wait if wait I must.
When I look at you looking back at me
I see an avatar of God's glory.
For the "any poem that got trashed
in the month of August" contest.
Got N/A on 31 August.
I know my son was inside with their dogs
And women dressed in uniforms who held
Their sharpened knives and made my son undress.
This is the way Americans fight war.
Confusing thoughts enter my mind
Combined with anger, sadness. ****.
The Lord, is my child to die?
If it is your will, please end him.
How could the Lord let this happen?
My sweet poor boy and his humility
He is nothing but a toy to women.
This is the way Americans fight war.
My family weeps for my son.
My country prays for their own sons.
Juvenescence shines like the sun's slow climb,
And I see a bird not yet flown its cage;
I hear the footsteps in the march of time -
A journey of self, a coming of age!
And you Peter Pan on wings of an elf,
Who the power of eternal youth seeks,
Must fly its limits lest your second self
Hidden from you conceal your own mystiques!
So fear not the coming years - yours or mine -
And love your God with all your heart and soul,
Nor misspeak and cast your pearls before swine
For all that you do bears a living toll.
And son, in your shared purpose be like them
Whoso rise above the hubris of men.
Swift the Running Fox - straight his arrowhead,
O you weaver, you spinner, you hatcher,
And long his hair the eagle feathers spread
In the sleep shadow of the dreamcatcher.
My boy the windtalker, the hunter brave,
In buffalo horn and porcupine quills...
A ghost of the warrior in the grave
Whose heart lies on the plains and in the hills;
Where beats a drum and burns a campfire,
A child of the Great Spirit in the sky!
Like the roebuck leaping farther, higher,
Chasing a dream in the wind and the rye.
You are the Indian bark - the sacred tree,
And your love is big medicine to me.
Far you have come and magnified and shown
That love is the opiate of the soul,
And much I have loved and much you have grown
In the anthology of years eightfold.
Be not a hero, nor fool in the throng,
And owe not any man nor him begrudge;
Do right, even in the tumult of wrong,
And let the haughty over this world judge!
If one truth is mine to tell let it be
That no father ever loved his son more;
Thus do I with the fondest frequency
Affectionately hold and gaze in awe.
Behold! I see a lamb with a lion's heart -
I see my whole, and you its greatest part.
Take joy in all youthful felicities
Lest in a moment's gain it is undone;
Mine is the joy of rich simplicities
And, you child, its face to always gladden.
That in some small measure you become me,
Son, so has a light shone on all my days,
And in my image mine own eyes do see
Your beginnings compassed in countless ways!
So permit me my quatrains and couplings,
Forgive my rapture and quixotic state...
Mine is the lexicon of beloved things,
And yours the idioms that resonate.
All I ask from the sinews of my heart
Is that our two swords never smite apart.
So the bloom of youth, of life, of esprit,
Heat and cool in the pit of fire and ice!
How quick its lapse, its forge, its alchemy,
More dark its trails - more willful its device!
Yet what becomes the boy becomes the man,
And I its sallies and airs will see past
When greater filled do your length of days span
And wider does your net and shadow cast.
True is the countenance fair to behold,
Fairer still that smitten beauty unseen!
Hearken unto me the days of this world
And let not elder rebuke come between.
Thus seek not after idols of this realm -
Seek our God and King in Jerusalem.
Comes a time when the strength is not to fight,
And forgiveness not for saints and martyrs:
When the soil grown sour and the vine in blight
Reap the fruit of the Sins of the Fathers!
Comes a breath that enters but does not leave
When all that remains is a beggar's pride:
'Tis then he that gives will richly receive,
And he that stumbles will suffer his chide.
Comes a reckoning the bells do carry -
A great heralding too loud to ignore,
For in its virtue not wont to tarry
It tolls for the man of steel - not of straw!
Comes a peace when all steadfastness is done
And all is right between Father and Son.