On Sunday I was five years old
And my heart is full of sorrow.
I’m scared to death if truth be told.
I’m starting school tomorrow.
Now I’m fifteen years of age,
My head is in a whirl.
At last I’ve turned another page.
Last night I kissed a girl.
So now I’ve reached the big three-0,
A small milestone in life.
And the girl I kissed fifteen years ago
Has just become my wife.
Fifty and a man of means.
But it’s not all good of course.
That girl I kissed back in my teens
Has just filed for divorce.
There’s a pile of cards on the doormat.
I’ve reached seventy today.
The bathroom scales say I’m getting fat
And what hair’s left is grey.
Selfish young youth has brightly beamed faces
And beautiful gleaming gold hair as loose lace is,
Like balmy books with pale prefaces
Its intrinsic inceptive and prompt paces,
Soon, sad torrid time replaces
The sunny sparkle with gentler graces
And young youth with those tacit troughed ages.
We've had; the Stone Age, Bronze Age,
Iron Age, Ice Age, Industrial Age too,
a thought about what man hath wrought
and the not-too distant future view.
It's now the AI Age we're living in,
yet, wouldn't take much persuasion,
or a second guess, to believe it's somewhat akin
to nothing more or less than an Alien Invasion.
A pocket full of smooth, round
stones,
A beetle crawling in the grass,
The tallest tree that I can climb,
And watching fluffy clouds
pass.
A secret kept by my best friend,
The perfect song to clear my
head,
A locked diary beneath the
floor,
And all the words left unsaid.
A quiet house before the dawn,
The monthly rent paid right on
time,
A steady hand to hold my own,
And mountains I still hope to
climb.
The health of those I love the
most,
A peaceful night of restful
sleep,
The quiet joy of letting go,
And memories I get to keep.
The warmth of sun upon my
face,
A rocking chair, a cup of tea,
A long and winding story told,
And knowing they'll remember
me.
When I was only five.
My dolls were the big thing,
we would sit and sing.
Then my tricycle I learned to drive.
At fifteen I was dating.
Boys were sure fickle,
some of their words were like a pickle.
We loved to go roller skating.
Now thirty is life half over?
Today is a new day,
no more hair of gray.
Maybe I need a new makeover.
At fifty should I retire?
Many days are way too long,
is life a game of ping-pong?
Some days I feel like I want to expire.
I never thought I would reach seventy.
Here I am,
drinking hot tea and eating strawberry jam.
Seventy is fun and not my enemy.
The earth has songs
of times before you can imagine,
the reminiscing and longing,
the memories of the ages.
The waters sing
their melancholy moan,
the ocean reverberates
of the things long gone.
The winds sing,
whistling their tune
of joy, fury, and sorrow
being shared in the now.
The skies sing,
the thunder crackles,
beginning the tale
of that which is to come.
The earth has songs
of times before you can imagine.
The reminiscing and longing,
the memories of the ages.
Can you hear it?
Just listen.
1) Though the winds may blow and the rain may fall,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages,
Though the seasons may change around us all,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages;
CHORUS:
Christ is the Rock on whom I stand,
He is my salvation,
He leads me on by His right hand,
Saves me from damnation...
2) Though my knees may shake and my strength may drain,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages,
Though clouds may veil the daylight in the rain,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages;
3) Though all hope seems lost, when on God I call,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages,
Though problems may cause my faith to grow small,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages;
4) No matter what it may feel like today,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages,
He is faithful and I can boldly say,
"I will stand on the Rock of Ages";
5) Each move I make is in His perfect plan,
I will stand on the Rock of Ages,
My way more secure than when it began,
Coz I stand on the Rock of Ages.
Cool summer lovely
Restoring Sight to Blinded
Jesus is my Rock
Love ages with us
Old hands still hold each other
Walks become silent shuffles
Hugs an acrobatic activity
Kisses as daring now
As in the fever of memory
Laughter a gasping gift
Those “we will always have…..” moments
Time, the slow tick of longings ache
Whispering: “I love you”
A heart drawn on a napkin
A hint of sadness in a smile
The joy of knowing
That love
Is still love
Is still present
In passions fire
Burning in softened blue eyes
The touch of gnarled hands
The joy of “those’ moments
Of love aging with us
Better days ahead
The song of ages
A song we always sing
In bad times or days
After the dark is dawn
What we've always believed
Whenever we're down.
Freedom is a must
The song of ages
A song we always sing
Whenever we're fighting
For liberation of all forms
Standing for our rights
Independence our goal.
Justice must prevail
A song of ages
A song we've always sing
No room for injustice
You won't know the damage
Until it's done to you
Calling on karma to take charge.
Dost thou disport thyself in thy daily pilgrimage?
What calleth 'playtime' unto thy soul?
I find my joy in the presence of ancient trees.
Where vibrant hues do spiral wild and free.
Such forests stretch beyond the sight, far and deep.
For 'tis within the winding roads of sleep.
I wander, blessed by the light that slumbered brings.
Nature doth cast a gentle, cooling breath!
To soothe my spirit, far from thoughts of depth.
O, Golden Light! Grant me lengthened rest!
For my strange, painted trees must be addressed.
With joyous heart, I fashion things of naughty.
The muse cries, "Play!" with every color squeezed,
With twinning scrolls and fancies, well appeased.
'Tis here I take my leap,
Both bold and steep,
Into a bright and variegated heap!
382.
The 3 Ages of Freedom
When we declared our freedom in 1898
We established our nation, we sealed our fate…
Our Bronze Age from Aguinaldo to Magsaysay
We ruled ourselves even if Ams & Japs deny
Our Silver Age from Garcia to Arroyo
There's no domination of external foe
Our Golden Age has started with Noynoy Aquino
A moment sublime to uplift the Filipino
…Seven in Bronze, Seven in Silver, Seven in Gold
This is our past, present & future foretold!
-09/16/2015
(Dumarao)
*Philippine History Rhyme Collection
Life challenges once I got old
Such balances as do as you’re told
Really ironic to me
How much I pee
A goal not to miss toilet bowl
I step from whirring future gears
To shadowed halls of moss and mire,
Where candles flicker, knowledge fears,
And hope is but a guttering fire.
Cobblestones echo underfoot,
A market square of mud and cries—
Peasants barter, beggars brood,
Monks guard secrets, wary-eyed.
The plague carts rattle down the lane,
A priest’s Latin lost on cold stone,
Superstition thick as rain—
Witch or wise, you die alone.
But look—within the abbey’s walls,
A child’s voice stirs the silent night,
Tracing stars on parchment, small,
Dreaming truths beyond the fright.
If I could change one thread of fate,
Would I bring a book, a spark,
A word of science to translate
The world from brittle dark?
But history’s woven, coarse and tight—
A single tug might fray the seams.
So gently, I leave one lantern light,
And trust the dawn to find their dreams.
Did you see, did you see
Grampa said excitedly
The system works, it really works
Thank God, they’re not (yet) all jerks
Aw, Gramps, open your eyes, didn’t you see
All those folks forgoing salaries
Airline flights canceled left and right
Millions with nothing to eat at night
Yes, sonny boy, I saw, I saw
And the deal was a bit raw
But the system worked, it really worked!
Sorry, Gramps
You’ve gone blind ~ you old jerk!
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