In my heart there’s a fire raging about
Honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to let it all out
I hate that unfairness being rewarded is the norm
Why do I have to shut up and conform?
Day in day out our cries fall on deaf ears
Having to go on with little sleep, face covered in tears
When do we sleep, when do we rest?
I don’t want to continue like this, I want to protest
Fair pay, fair hours
Give us what’s rightfully ours
If things continue like this, I won’t stay
Rather than being rich I’d rather be okay
Or at least that’s what I’d like to say
But I know that’s just a pipe dream
After all, I’ve got bills to pay
I have a mouth and yet, I cannot scream
________________________
These two pieces captures the soaring arrogance, profound pride, and fiery confidence that characterize some poets’ iconic style. Amrit Ghayal (the first quatrain) was legendary for his fierce, larger-than-life poetic persona, and this specific quatrain perfectly showcases the sheer power he attributed to the poet's pen. The second quatrain, a part of free translation, adds to what he said in the first.
_____________________
For nectar of life fend I can,
Vie with Death’s hands--- defend I can.
My song of life a life-giver,
I pen, make dead stones stand I can.
With fire of ink, life blend I can,
The decrees of Fate bend I can.
Though time erases empires vast,
The history’s lease end I can.
_______________________
Reflections | 25.09.2026| death, life, poet, song, Quatrain
Note: The first quatrain is a free translation of a Gujarati Piece by Amrit Ghayal as under:
Amrit thi hoth aentha kari shakuñ chuñ,
Mrityu na hath palmañ hetha kari shakuñ chuñ.
A mari shayari ae sanjivani che, Ghayal,
Shayar chuñ paliya ne betha kari shakuñ chuñ.
Barking. Off, away
By Frank Daub
She is UNAWARE that she cannot stay – too long.
Her time is limited to short intensiveness,
so, she doesn’t hold back, but plays
and zooms in circles through every room
open to her padded paws.
Stopping suddenly short –
she remembers the love we share
and she pads back to sit looking up at me.
That is when I pray that pups are part of Heaven.
There
Is that which
Cannot be
Communicated
Yet words form
And may pretend
To have broken
The code
But the code and
The words are
Already that
A tale of futility
But kinda fun..
Local Knowledge,
Will always give you the edge,
On what bets to hedge,
Where best to plant a hedge,
Where not to dredge.
Ask a local and pay no fee,
Get the best info for free,
Even comes with a cup of tea,
And a garden in full bloom to see.
With local input,
You can increase your output,
With no no time out,
To hear the locals shout,
why were we not told about.
If you want long term profit,
Local knowledge will always be a better fit,
And save the need for a costly refit.
Best of all time for more golf will be a given,
So, why not give in,
Meet with the locals at their local Inn,
Put your original plan in the bin,
Giving logic time to settle in.
,
Without metaphor or simile
symbolism, imagery
poetry it cannot be
Bone-dry language
prosaic thought
as poetry ‘tis all for naught
Dare you disagree with me?
~ poetry it cannot be
Arms entwined
Body pressed against body
Lips engaging lips
Thighs in a bind-
I cannot turn away- so -
Instead, I say, " Will you two, please get a room"
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ pulse.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ mounts ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ and beats ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ with the surge.
¦¦¦ it bursts. ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ announced.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ running through the streets.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ their shoes.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ it sheltered ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ led
By a ¦¦¦¦¦¦ gesture. ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
It enters. ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dancing.
(Blackout of The Assassination by Donald Justice)
653.
The 3rd Period of the Pre-Spanish Era of Philippine History:
Trade with Southeast Asian Neighbors
Written: July 11, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Line Gauthier
****************
Grief stays—slow snowfall seals the silent night,
Time weeps—deep sleep dims every fading light.
Lost love - heart's throb echoes that I can't flee,
Sad years—bleak hymns sink in, griefs I foresee.
Through fading rain, your voice—a soft refrain,
Grief's thief brings back your sweet ache again.
Night inherits day's endless chitchat,
shares it with the starlit canopy
holding imagination thereat.
She is on the wrong side of normal,
as if she's a mental amputee
or lives on a lonely sea’s atoll.
She fancies she is a butterfly
or a flower-chasing bumblebee,
but I reckon she's a damselfly.
Let her frolic in her fantasy,
ever in that starlit apogee~
forever night's lovely adoptee!
Life is about win or loose
But dont be afraid.
Be bold when life is loosing
Be humble when life is winning.
Money is part of life
But money is not life
Enjoy life by money
But don't run behind money.
Life wins when you face your problem
Life looses when you think you cannot
Although your life is hard don't care about it
Be happy,smily and face the situations that comes.
Life is about win or loose
But dont be afraid.
Be bold when life is loosing
Be humble when life is winning.
Money is part of life
But money is not life
Enjoy life by money
But don't run behind money.
Life wins when you face your problem
Life looses when you think you cannot
Although your life is hard don't care about it
Be happy,smily and face the situations that comes.
It happens that I am perturbed/
by the way the trees bend to match the/
curvature of the earth/
child-like fingers that haven't yet learnt to be gentle/
pushing them like blades of grass/
hoping they don't crack beneath the weight of innocence/
the long-dead philosophers might turn over/
in their graves/
a reminder of all that has lived and died/
and knowledge that is nothing compared to the insurmountable belief/
that everyone has the capability to love/
will seep into the dark soil around rotted wood/
and make the worms and spiders writhe/
in uncomfortable tension/
because what is nature without pain/
and what is pain without a means to share it/
I am a poet/
my soul dwells in the/
essence of discovering the unknown and/
being more than just a name on a/
paper no one will ever find/
as the aromatic scent of summer dirt beneath/
clean fingernails and the sound of/
a wind resembling a heartbeat/
live and thrive inside this shell that holds my being/
the same wind inside me that forces the trees to obey/
pounds against my skull/
yet somehow:
I do not bend.
I cannot hibernate without my friend, Daddy.
Baby bear was smitten with his snowman, Maddy
Maddy never said a word, was frozen in place
Daddy saw he could not refuse with any grace
He relented and Baby Bear brought Maddy to the cave
We are going to hibernate until winter, he said, grave
Maddy did not react, did not say one little thing
But only a hat and scarf remained in the spring
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