A flame mounts high and bright,
A frightful dance it carves,
The dry woods starts to blaze,
A warmth against the cold,
My worn-out spirit glows.
Rain pours in a quick rush
Over stones, worn and grey,
It reflects the heavens
Washing off dust and pain
At close of a long day.
The flame cools down gently,
A dark and fading sweep,
The sizzle turns to steam,
The embers yearn to nap,
The heat within me wanes.
Fire spans the forest ground
Leaving ash, a grey dust,
Water seeks lowest spots,
Fulfilling divine trust
In every single flow.
Fire that consumes the trees,
Rain that fosters the hill,
Two opposing powers,
But meant with time to meet
To accomplish their tasks.
The spirit wants the fire
To burn away distress,
The soul yearns for water
To make the vision clear,
Each performing its role.
In truth, they don`t die out,
Each in part re-joins earth,
The embers mix with soil
That gives birth to new life,
An eternal cycle.
Rivers kiss the ocean
At end of their journey
To vaporise in air
And pour as rain again,
Nature`s endless circle.
193.
Faith
Oh God, for I'm someone under authority
Having lords and soldiers over me
I shall put my faith on them and Thee
Eventhough I am not worthy of care
For I am a person so simple and bare
Almost having nothing precious to share
I'm so lowly, the heavens are far
Can't even afford to buy a toy car
To move up and move on is easy to bar
Only in dreams I can reach so high
It's there where I have seen myself fly
Pillows of clouds they don't deny
But here in real life situation
People experience utter desperation
Others even die out of negation
Yet however dark is the night
If in our hearts we have this might
We shall perceive the saving light
Oh God, I should have this faith within me
Though of Thy grace I'm not so worthy
I just continue to pray to Thee.
-11/08/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Morning Poems Collection…started writing it this day of Nanay's birthday
~ The weather has many faces ~ whistling in the headwind ~ quote by poet
Natural and repetitive elements
in the sound of the wind slow down restless thoughts
Observe the thoughts without judging or interpret
avoid depressive rumination just let go
A breath of wind touched your cheek so gently
Happiness is fleeting not a cliché
a lovely feeling, dancing as a whirlwind
The constant wind which makes the strings tinkle
It blows wherever it wants, strong or weak
The gentle wind reminds me of relaxing
pan flute music, sensitively without words
Indigenous music did not die out
it is carried by the wind all over the globe
Can neither be controlled, planned nor ordered
With invisible bows the wind carries away
Progress require you to loosen the moorings
The wind ruffles your hair and the waves sing
It's wonderful to feel the forces of nature
Listen carefully – it's full of presence
Yet again another light appears in the dead of night , Waking me from sleep with a majestic sigh
Yet a sigh I’m unable to grasp, gazing into the light, dwelling while it lasts
But I know the beam will soon die out, the light will be dimmed amidst the clouds
I will tilt my head and stare as the light fades away, wondering why such a sigh can never stay
Once again the night returns before my eyes, no longer consumed by the lies of the light
The deception that captivated my brain, must have been a delusion I made in vain
I’ll remind myself the simple truth, there was no light, there is simply darkness in the dead of night
And yet I know tonight, I’ll stay awake eager to see the sigh, waiting for my eyes to illuminated by the beauty of the light
I’ll wait for what is nothing but an illusion, I’ll stare into the darkness, trees and pollution.
Waiting for a so called “light” to return once again to conquer the night.
Her eyes are laden with drunken sleep,
Silhouetted by lank, tired hair flimsier
Than the spine of an elderly, broken night.
Tattered, it buries the horrors of night;
Braided, it creases the rows of black corn,
Sweeping swiftly south and downwards;
Ponytail ties the umbilical linking life
And skyline light.
Lissome, she traipses with no lamp,
Even when darkness confidently pitches its nightingale’s romance
To district judges seated on the kerb of the apothecary’s creed . . .
With her the night loses its potency,
Its sacredness,
Expelling flies that die out on their own willpower,
Like winged dinosaurs,
Through the age of decomposing summer.
It's all been analysed before?
The oneiric spell cast upon slow, difficult nights
When the breath smells like the anus of hell.
By the way, I drivel.
Not saliva.
Oh, no!
I drivel on about hissing nights that ought to be lonesome,
Stretched out, dark, and without rays borrowed
Earlier from a twerking twilight.
Restless nights, worn like silky cloaks, diaphanous,
Seeing through the naked veins of her sweet eyes.
As hot summer reluctantly gives way,
Autumn has come closer to the doorway.
In a medley of colors, Earth parades,
And everything is seen in sparkling shades.
Cool n’ crisp, the West wind blows in soft hum.
Dead and decaying leaves fall with bee’s thrum.
When they drop one by one in hundreds down,
In a deluge of colors, the lands drown.
Some, seen swirling afloat in the bare space
Some nosedive and lurch on the landscape’s face.
But with season's brisk change, these tongues of fire,
Will die out and no more be there to lure!
Genesis 2
As the dewdrops slide down the tomato
Silent thoughts turn to you
How you love to plant a garden, eat
The fruits, but not a stew
God planted a garden for man
Man was given a command
To tend the grand garden planted
Now what happens to the land
Husband of mine still tries to tend
While scientist still mix
Potions to destroy the whole world
Then earth they can't fix
In the garden, dirt on your hands
You are content again
Out in the heat, sweat on your skin
Will you die out there in pain
As autumn leaves turn crimson and red, ready to fall
I lie here exhausted, waiting for my final call.
I stare into the approaching ferocious night,
And fear the fiend coming to strangle me tight.
As my final moments on earth begin to show,
My breath becomes shallow, my heartbeats grow slow
I feel, the clock ticks faster than ever before
And it is time for me to leave this earthly shore.
As the last ember of life is about to die out,
And the grim reaper has come from his hideout,
God, be on my side to give me peace,
And make my final journey one of ease.
I feel, He is staying close to me at this crucial hour,
Telling me- “Don’t fear! I shall be with you for ever.
I will be by your side to grant you a peaceful sleep
And angels shall be deployed for vigil to keep”
When I leave the surly bounds of this earth
To Heaven, I will ascend to enjoy perpetual mirth.
I am sure, He will carry me in His arms as angels sing,
And I will be welcomed by the Heavenly throng.
wings could drive you crazy
under the overpass, the crows
gather one by one, flapping
it is a perfect day, stuck underneath
where cars borrow the bird’s view
without a whisper or toll, torrent
of landings to complete the murder
the row, on an inner ledge, legible
perhaps eligible to a mate, could be
a male society or female offering
we who pass so quickly, only stopping
for a light or traffic jamming, see
what flies in the dark, in the face
we are the ones out of place
the fury of the flock, frenetics
relics, energetic, spot on sketchy
do they see some of the same old
cars? do they care or turn a blind eye
i haven’t forgotten but what does it matter?
it does because a poetic fuse ensues
and must in the end die out, forgotten
except by the rear end reader
who will extend the imagery for a blink
or think a deja vu when flocking with crows
in trees, on lines, under the overpass
The locusts are coming
They’ll be here soon
Turning all greenery black
Obliterating the moon
Devouring vegetation
Causing aggravation
Raising a ruckus and din
A sorry state the world is in
Yet in three weeks they’ll die out
And I bet you’ll shout
for joy as their shells go snap-crackle-crunch
when your pet aardvark eats them for brunch
Old timers, history;4th/5th generation
The friends we knew, now just memories
A forgotten world past, new bringing
AI, technology; what is it we become
The past barely existing, rotting away
Like dust is to the wind
Particles of human flesh decay
Our worth, only the price of money
Our dignity, forgotten; lost among mankind
A broken society disarrayed in their path
Dreams of life we consume our souls in screen
Sense of hope shatter in riot hate
Morality crushed among the ruins of today
A free nation they yell as we pay the price
Still slave to man we shout for change
But to man, the reason we die out our breed
All we lived for and fought to achieve
The constitution, added/taken from like Bible
The new gen, the dying breed we become sin
Living just cause it is that we look not
But unto our own destruction we lead ourselves
Noy not by choice my last breath be it taken
Exhale of darkness my soul waits its coming
I grow weary as the days approaches end
A life forgotten, a Dying Breed once stood
A soul once soared, buried in a tomb
Down deep in the ground, the Dying Breed
The last laid to rest eternal
INTERVIEW WITH A DYING TREE-
I stand erect I embrace we
You cover me I am under you us
Grounded together we two
I am of you, we both stand in the wind
Both sprightliness, yet of skins
I die daily, my skin sheds
We gather this meeting we hug a conference created beings
In examination whose evaluation our dialogue audience
Exchange canvass the 3rd degree who said you’re a dying tree
I shed skin you shed buds and leaves daily
I speak life, live tree I speak life into me
You’re created-higher than the grounds
You’re created to cleanse the air
So that I may breathe the breath of God
You’re confer with
You’re pollinated
You’re survey you sound out ascertain the opinion of doubt
You shall not be disease nor die out I speak life I decree
I speak life, no you shall not be hewed, nor are you diseased
I speak life, you’re not said a dying tree
6/24/23
For “The Interview” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
The builders
At the end of the avenue stood a big, white residence
with a splendid garden with trees and flowers
Generations of titled people had visited this house even
it is said; the king of Portugal
Time changes even great families die out and the house
was left to its own device and the garden a paradise for
Cats and rats
The builders, slayers of old beauty, punched; bought
the building from a distant cousin who moved to Alentejo
bought horses, his dream of being a cowboy fulfilled
The house and the once splendid garden and set to work
From the ruin of the past, an apartment building arose
a luxury one with a quarter for the maid.
That, my friend, is how everything ends, if not of great value
The loveliness of the old is a memory.
a subtle, almost imperceptible vibrational distraction
became an irritant causing consciousness contraction
taking a step back, we allowed the flame to die out
contemplating on why we had so allowed it to grout
as such, the seeming nonevent, though a flicker in time
redoubled our resolve to entwine with the divine sublime
16-May-2023
Battery gonna die out at any random moment now.
Just gonna keep smoking that flower, it doesn't matter how.
So sorry to say that I'm gonna go right now, so ciao.
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