766.
Christmas Bells – Simbolo ng Pasko
Sa bansang ito
Makahulugan ang Pasko
Kayrami nitong simbolo…
Makikita, mapapakinggan
Matitikman, mararamdaman
Oh anong karanasan?
Gaya ng “Christmas Bells” na mapapakinggan mo
Sa simbahan na malapit sa inyo
Isa sa mga “Simbolo ng Pasko”
Mga kampana na nag-aanyaya
Para sa Simbang Gabi ay gumising na
Sagisag ng maagap na pananampalataya –
Isa lamang ito
Sa mga simbolo
Ng makahulugan naming Pasko!
-12/06/2019
(Dumarao)
*Mga Simbolo ng Pasko
The clock strikes twelve bells,
the time is here,
all in their minds
seemed reasonably clear.
Time to go home
and find one's bed,
uncertainty may be welcomed
for others instead.
Light breaks
as the horizon starts to shimmer,
pillows and blankets
lay a peculiar shape.
Eyes are closed soothing pain
from the cheer and wine,
now the pillows are moving,
it is not too late.
The telephone rings
which hangs on the wall,
the alarm clock goes off
from down the hall.
The blinds shutter up and down
dazzling sparkling light all around.
The fan overhead
circulates the air,
cooling the pillows
nestled between our hair.
Sleepiness is calling
and the pillows now quaint,
the simpler days
of collegiate dates.
The Bells Ring Aloud in Hell
The tolling of the bells in hell
Rang out for common folk.
There was a heavy price to pay
For every word they spoke.
They barked commands at the Gatekeeper
Until he turned his head;
They never knew that all their lives
By shadows they were led.
They didn’t know how to obey,
To humble or behave.
They played at being kings and queens
While walking to the grave.
With hearts devoid of empathy,
They reached the final swell
And there they’ll stay, beneath the gate,
The hollow toll of hell.
Hear the tolling of the bells -- Iran lives!
As the danger ebbs and flows,
in the clamor of a fragile ceasefire,
the sobbing of innocent victims,
collecting their belongings in the rubble
of bombed out buildings,
away from the mad extrapolations of a one-sided victory,
hear the jingling of the bells,
heralding a new beginning,
a new chapter in Eastern civilization,
holding the barbarians at the gate, no matter how they encircle them
like hungry hyenas proclaiming a blockade with a pilgrim's shadow.
Cyrus stands amid the roar
and holds within his hands the tighter clasp of a civilization,
a luminous point peering deep into the darkness of Western civilization.
Walking beside you my best friend.
Over the years I have lost myself so many times.
Only finding I am still here not alone.
Under the clouds I await My Lord.
Questions of loss and questions of my heart.
Open to the call of the birds.
My Jesus thank you for loving me.
Knights of Valor of Old I regard Jesus as my best friend.
Love is who I must be cause Love created me.
Lights align my path I follow Jesus way.
Juniper freedom and Juniper dreams.
I surrender to You Lord Jesus thank you.
Alone but I belong to Jesus so I am Never alone.
Star lights, Yuma cells, York walls crashing down.
Moon pies devour my spirit yet forever saved by Yeshua my Jay Bird.
Jesus thank you for freeing my soul. Thank you Jesus for giving me life.
I’d grown tired of Poe’s bells, having heard them diurnally,
until the birds performed on the rooftop.
—by Poet
The Soaring of the Bells
His wings swing to and fro; sonorous tweets
On top of the roof triangle.
Lifts, he floats, off tippy-top with tolling sweets.
Church bell in expectant jangle.
Do villagers notice what a poet holds dear?
She witnesses from the right angle.
Melancholia becomes a cherubim cheer.
Two small birds, now, ding-dong like a bell.
I’ll treasure this moment as a souvenir.
I’ve heard many a steeple song; all’s not well,
But the winged couple is merry.
A spry Disney-like dance with each decibel.
The soaring of the bells, a dulcet cherry.
A feather pen, in my eye pocket I carry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Petals chime in porcelain white~
a secret vow beneath the leaves.
Their fragrance wafts through morning light~
tiny nuptials on vines.
bells tinkle gently
I’m trapped in a cup
watching cows in spring
loamy Earth beneath
ceramic walls crack
moo-ing opens base
______________________
Contest : Standard : Trapped in a Tableau
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
Placed : 4th : March 26
In a twilight garden where the wisteria sways
The lycaenids whisper their loving praise
songs are sung and are being timed
When the temple bells are being chimed
Twosome toddler twirl and swirl in a lawn
Laughing and giggling like a gambolling fawn
No worries of the empty belly nor the pain
Of scratched knees and sees a mirth in a handful grain
The termless ocean hustles at faraway shore
And she called the dorado to hum like before
The brook talks about the stalk leaf that afloat
Lighter and gentler and looks more of pismire boat
In a gloaming garden where the sunlight blushes
All remain silent and only the sings of thrushes
Songs are sung and are being timed
When the temple bells are being chimed
An angelic being,
helping to guide and protect us.
Seen by some but mostly unseen.
They can ring bells,
and sing in the wind.
Even be heard in a soft whisper.
Looking like a fluffy cloud,
wearing a white flowing gown.
Wearing wings and a pretty halo.
Have not seen them,
but have seen the effects from them.
Have written about them.
Jingle bells adorn the sleigh.
Family ride makes the holidays delightfully merry.
Blankets shield us from the cold.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 2nd place 2026
The world descends into darkness
with each turning wheel of the sun.
Our hearts grow heavy with starkness,
an emptiness we can’t outrun.
In the black pit of midnight,
we do not fall asleep.
We welcome the year with solemn might,
yet by break of day, our vows don’t keep.
We grasp at frivolous dreams,
believing they might save us still.
The world unravels at the seams
as power, looks, and lust shape will.
We toast to new ambitions—
the promotion, the figure, the balance.
All self-focused missions
to build our private palace.
But the grain must die,
or it withers alone.
Self-focus is a subtle lie
that beneath the world’s weight groans.
Yet with each crisp ring,
the old bells still call—
atop the steeple, they sing,
arms spread wide to break our fall.
How long will we wander
in this murky midnight hour,
promised better dreams yonder,
only to turn our souls sour?
All the while, He waits
and counts down time.
As we count up, clocking fate,
He counts down to the final line.
Midnight bells—
they ring,
they sing.
Oh, those midnight bells,
a truth
we cannot mute.
As Yuletides wash Gaia in curvy song
affirm Love for Self and all, short or long
knowing Life blossoms, bells chiming blessings
Strive to live moment by moment
surrendering in Trust a truthful must
acknowledge Inner Voice, core’s choice
assert Serene Sublime Stirring Spirit
candescent within community care
flaming forth Gratitude for New Earth dare !
_________________
____________________
FIRST PLACING : STANDARD CONTEST
[Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
Contest : Love Language of Yuletide
23.12.25]
Your slightest touch of love jingles my bells
My heart begins to dance a tango
Your romantic banter swells my head
For you I am a beauty to your beast
Such white lies are warm despite snow
Cranberry cries can’t be denied
For my tears fall like sleet on the street
Whenever I can not see you my love
Let us find the mistletoe an excuse
To show public affection and caress
Planting kisses like pink poinsettias
Swooning in gold light of sun or moon
You touch me with your thoughts
More than you know and I glow
Every time I think of our journey
to this island called love
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yuletide bells chime~
frost-kissed air hums silver echoes,
a hymn spun in ice.
Deep beneath the muffled snow,
roots dream of resurrection.
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