I cant carry your bones and my own
But I will because it hurts more to be alone
What you think of me is my view of myself
You design my skeleton not me or anyone else
Now that I no longer carry your bones
I hate myself wherever I go
When I look in the mirror I am haunted by my own skeleton
Disgusted by the bones you depicted that I am forced to live in
You discarded all the parts of my skeleton worth keeping
Now I understand my well being was not what you were seeking
I am now living with a crafted skeleton and chiseled bones
And your words will never leave me alone
The Smithy works the tools until he's finished what is made
By sapients and fools and all purveyors of the trade
Hammering what's been heated until it's finally wrought
Into what has been crafted into finely finished thought
The sweat that gathers on the brow of crafty and of clueless
Will only come to light somehow when posted for the viewless
In hope someone will stumble into this thoughtful snare
Arresting thoughtful moments from all who wander there
You live like this, sheltered in a delicate world crafted from dreams and illusions,
Believing you are truly living, while your steps are guided by routine,
But then you open a book... or embark on an unexpected journey,
And discover that you are not living, but hibernating, asleep in an apparent silence.
The symptoms of hibernation are easy to spot: first, the restlessness that haunts you,
The second symptom (when hibernation becomes dangerous and can degenerate into death):
The absence of pleasure, of the joy that once filled the cups of your soul,
That is all.
It seems like a harmless disease, a virus of monotony, boredom, slow death,
Millions live like this (or perhaps die like this) without knowing,
They work in offices, drive cars, have picnics with their families,
Raise children and wait for times to change.
And then, a shock treatment occurs, a person, a book, a song,
And it awakens them, saves them from the death that enveloped them like a veil,
But some never awaken, remaining asleep in their silent slumber,
In a world where only shadows speak of the life that could have been.
In the reflection of divine light, I stand,
A child of God, created by His hand.
Clothed in His image, a vessel of grace,
Chosen and cherished in Heaven's embrace.
No earthly words or judgments can define,
The worth I hold, a treasure so divine.
For I am crafted with love's tender touch,
A masterpiece formed, loved oh so much.
In the depths of my soul, I find my might,
Unwavering purpose, a guiding light.
No doubts can tarnish this sacred flame,
For God's love within me forever claims.
Fearfully and wonderfully designed,
A testament to grace, with gifts enshrined.
I embrace my journey with steadfast embrace,
Knowing God's love guides me in every space.
So, let no voice or doubt cause me to sway,
In my Father's love, I find strength each day.
For I am a child of God, cherished and blessed,
Forever in His arms, eternally at rest.
Life has its ups and downs, wins and losses:
that's the nature of the games people play.
We all strive to be one of the bosses:
and yet, fate seldom seems to work that way.
The games begin before we learn to speak,
fun ones, like believing in Santa Claus.
Amongst the many, that game was unique:
and still, some question what its purpose was.
Games introduce us to lies in disguise:
dulling the trauma of being deceived.
To win, one must learn how to improvise:
reality is weirder than perceived.
We play innumerable games of chance:
cunningly crafted, as games of romance.
M-essage
A-bout
R-egards
I-s
A-wesomely
C-rafted
E-mploying
C-reativity
I-n
L-ovely
L-ines
A-s
S-cribe
A-pplies
R-eader's
E-xcellent
T-hinking
Topic: Birthday of Maria Cecilla O. Saret (November 25)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
D-ivine
E-xpression
C-rafted
I-n
B-eautiful
A-crostic
L-ets
I-t
N-icely
G-ive
I-nspiring
T-hought
Topic: Birthday of Deci M. Balingit (December 01)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-arvelous
A-uthor
D-elights
E-vent's
L-ady
E-mploying
I-nspiring
N-ote's
E-xcellent
C-onnotation
O-nce
N-oble
C-omposer
E-xecutes
P-oem
C-rafted
I-n
O-ne
N-ame
Topic: Birthday of Madeleine Concepcion (December 03)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
G-ladly
I-nterpret
O-ne
V-erse
A-ppreciating
N-ifty
N-ote's
I-nspiration
B-ecause
O-f
C-omforting
C-omposition
A-s
C-rafted
C-onnotation
I-mplements
O-ptimism
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
G-reetings
A-re
R-ightfully
C-rafted
I-n
A-crostic
A-s
R-eader
E-njoys
L-iterary
L-ines
A-t
N-atal
O-ccasion
Topic: Birthday of Garcia Arellano (December 09)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-essage
A-bout
R-egards
I-n
C-omposition
A-pplies
R-apturous
D-edication
A-s
N-atal
T-heme
I-s
C-rafted
Topic: Birthday of Maricar Dantic (February 12)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
M-essage
I-s
C-rafted
H-appily
A-nd
E-xcellent
L-ine's
R-ighteous
E-xpression
N-icely
E-mploys
G-reatness
A-s
T-ruth
M-akes
I-t
N-oble
Topic: Birthday of Michael Rene Gatmin (August 26)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
When time just collapses and stands still,
Reality shadows all laughter with haunted chill
I just feel that I should walk and walk …
Till the mosque awaits, not a further talk.
You keep on talking about writing on the wall
I see a clumsy nagging dirty pain, standing rigid and tall
Pure scripture keeps shining still, the innermost surreal call
Why bother to alter the calligraphy? Invalid try after all.
Softer tones utter each word in a pure divine way
All that was confusing gradually get vanished away
Look there! Out there on the far-reaching greenery ….
Little souls are building heaven with crafted archery.
(A gifted poem to Austin Poetry Society)
Like a sculptor I searched for the perfect stone
I tried to make it better and with my skills hone
But you cannot change it no matter how you shape or scuff
I lost all of them and found you a diamond in the rough
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
Like a carpenter I chose only the best wood
I tried to cut and plane it but the result was misunderstood
I tried to preserve it forever but it rotted away
Until I found a well built home in you and I wanted to stay
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
Like a painter I covered my canvas with paint and oil
But the more I stroked the more it did spoil
I tried to add more color and they still did part
Until I found you the masterpiece work of art
Inner perfection was already there and was easy to see
Your heart is heavenly crafted and is tailor made for me
You make me wonder,
with much merry eagerness
How can you craft such majestic,
poetic verses, pricked by simple words meaningful to my heart?
Your gift of explaining yourself so uniquely is appreciated by me
How can you craft such words with poetic passion
In meaningful words, typed with eagerness?
You make me wonder
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