99.
My 24th Leaf
Plucked thee on way out
Once again same route
It's arboreal
It's fruit national
Leaf from “mango” tree!
CapSU-Main owns thee
Living property
Perhaps long ago
Thin & tall, young though
The tree's juvenile
Third month and sixth day
While out along way
Sir Ralph had just been
Death cart had just seen
Overheard necro
Left-side corridor
Of the school's ground floor
Almost near garage
Of front gate's entrance
Some sort of plant box
Holiday CapSU
Ex. Pres., oh adieu
While funeral mass
Roching Dadivas -
CapSU shall miss you!
-03/06-07/2012
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
The man in the elevator had to get down at the ground floor
The elevator glided smoothly till the third floor
When about to get down, the man found to his great dismay
That the lift got stuck in the middle with all fellow travellers away
His heart began thumping fast, the air grew thicker
Drenched in sweat, he found his energy waning quicker.
Fear seized him and he couldn’t think of anything else
Losing control, a warmth running down his thighs, he did sense.
When the security staff finally came to rescue the fool
He was found squatting on the floor in a pool
He had peed on his trousers, and accepting all blame
Felt relieved to be out of that cage, though at the risk of shame.
This man in the elevator
needs to break out a razor
His beard is massively long
with aromas of Cheech
and Chong
Everywhere else this man was well put together
ironed shirt, slicked hair, polished boots of leather
but his beard was everywhere wild
like a freshly sugared up child
His face was straight forward
secretly feeling my gaze
"What kind of insects are hiding in that maze?"
I wanted to ask but that wouldn't be nice
I stepped back
Didn't want to get any lice
As the door opens up to the ground floor
we disperse
never to see him anymore
Who am I to judge?
That growth has probably taken a year
As my mom always told me
Looks aren't always as they appear.
Wake Me Softly
~~~~~~~~~~~
waking in a dream
again and again
discarding the shell of what was
for a figment of what is
distant vista eagerly awaited
the naked truth, dearly dreaded
show me not what is real
show me what could be
when you are a dreamer
you just never know
imaginary dreamscapes
fantastic lucidity of delusion
prestigious fortune of grit
when blood, sweat, and tears
and mere passion
not only fall short but
they will never be enough
blind faith in the gamble
my hand is strong
but one shy of flush
a bell pierced the haze
in my wake all that I see
is the awkward silence in between
a furrowed brow and dirty fingernails
the mind it boggles
that when the ground floor hits
I've fallen asleep
5 more minutes
then wake me softly
The piano tuner
there used to be a greengrocer on the ground floor
except for potatoes, there was not much call for
another vegetable, the shop closed a piano tuner rented
the space and partly white-washed the windows
he didn't like to be seen by passers-by
I sat on the gate into our yard pretending to be a cowboy
when he asked me to help him in the shop, yes, I was glad
to help got boring being a cowboy
He sat me on a piano stool, opened up my fly, began
playing with my innocent , with his right hand he
wanked himself, I was too petrified in fear I didn't
run away; when he ejaculated, he dried himself with a hanky
in his pocket and, in a brusque manner, told me to leave
Outside, it took me a while to realize this man was a pig
but I was too ashamed to tell anyone and instead went
up to our flat opened a book by Robert Louis Stevenson
and began reading about islands and bright light
2025.03.06 @ 06:06:06
Finally, two embroidery projects that I have finished.
One to keep and one to give.
A cute building appeared underneath this poem.
Inside, along the L shaped benches,
He sat at the desk, surfed on the internet,
And comfortably crossed his long, lower legs.
His second home was embroidered
On a simple white material,
The red galvanized walls on top,
Housing the Child Care Centre.
The glass windows framed with silver metal,
Located on the ground floor,
In front and on the side of the building,
The wear and tear black wooden columns,
Side by side unevenly standing in silence,
Covering most of the building glass surfaces.
On the right hand side,
A long and wide concrete foot path,
Leading to the front entrance,
Before joining the back garden.
Once inside, there are many facilities,
And well equipped amenities.
So many fond memories, engraved in my heart,
Written on my phone and also stored in my USB.
I now put these down to embroidery
To commemorate once my favorite library,
It ended since the day it went like this .........
The person I used to be hides in the shadow,
awaiting an unexpected moment to expose
secrets best left forgotten.
Perhaps a shot or two of Macnaughton™
will quiet the desire of the demon
that screams in the zemin~*
Or at least let me sleep without nightmare,
without that old bugbear;**
sleep like a child beneath an old willow.
*Noun: ground, floor, basis, background
**Noun: an imaginary monster used to frighten children
Old cotton knee-Lenths
smell; an old book of poetry smell,
Unseen socks
between the matrass and the ground floor
of nowhere,
where discarded apparel through the ages,
molders unread.
Daily we wash the stains off
our words,
once in a while
we recover them from
a closeted library of mismatched leftovers,
mental Himelick Maneuvers,
unclog threads of meaning.
Recuse the becalmed.
where they wallow untouched
by time
and just as funky as summer armpits,
yet
all that bookish residue
is retrievable,
It can be made to walk upright,
as if it still had legs.
I used to chase God like lost souls looking
for him on dim roads
What I found was him clothed, staring through
eyes of lost souls
It comes like a thief on dark nights while you
sleep with closed eyes
Some are awake with blind eyes & all they can
see is their lies
This world is in knots of loose ties that only
appear as strongholds
It's no wonder its chilly in hot times as your
heart has gone cold
Some are stuck in a game of switched roles &
therefore, confused by life's rules
Illusions tell you it's out of your hands & there's
no choice, but your world goes as you choose
Recognize who you are in this scheming world of
grand things
If you believe you're on the ground floor, then
you are so you attract low things
Burn through illusions like loose leaf as they
plant seeds for more trees
The All is absolute truth we call God in this world
& are lives are its dreams
Come and join us in our bonding moment
Building-up dream houses midst amusement
Through "legos" … bright plastic construction toys
Showing creative skills while we rejoice.
Together, let’s build our family house
Where we stay with love, along pets; not mouse
We first have firm foundation --- strong and great
On wide ground floor that can carry our weight.
There’s our kitchen where food is cooked so well
And dining room to feast, while stories tell
Living room is comfortable indeed
And bed rooms give us our privacy need.
Oh, we thank the Lord for houses* to stay
Blest homes we dwell in safely night and day
Let’s make them beautiful with all our best
Building them up through kindness and care’s zest.
*Psalms 127:1 Except the LORD build the house, they labour in vain that build it...
November 14, 2023
1st place, "Legos Nursery Rhymes" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper; judged on 11/29/2023
Autumn brings
A beautiful sight for the eyes to see
Colorful leaves hanging from branches of the trees
Graciously trickling down to the ground floor until there are no more
Cooler weather and shorter days
Autumn brings
Perfect time for hot cocoa with marshmallows
A warm treat so delicious and sweet
Children dress in costumes; Trick or treat collect more candy than they can eat
Halloween is one of the holidays
Autumn brings
A time to visit haunted houses and watch scary movies until you fall asleep
Crops are ready to be harvested
Reap the fruits of your labor
Prepare your table, sit, and now feast on what
Autumn brings
Beauty of mind can keep you blithe
As flowers never the fragrance aside,
You matched her eyes with the pearl
And would say Oh my sweet girl,
You named her lips 'Sweet Rose'
Without being observed so close,
Her cheeks you'd say green apple
I'm sure wouldn't you know for sale,
After years now she's turned old
Even you're not as before so bold,
Her eyes never speak of pleasure
None will come to take her share,
The lips you praised as divine store
Now it is less than a ground floor,
The cheeks of her you glorified
How sad finding it a bark fried!
SOMETHING STRANGE
Ground floor of the
Engineering Building,
the elevator shaft wrapped
in a staircase, the entrance to
each on opposite sides
She was pretty, I thought, in a
blue hair, torn jeans counter-culture
sort of way, California sandals and a
colorful tee shirt, its clever slogans
over bouncing topography, her
black-rimmed glasses and overloaded
backpack signaling the intent to do
some serious work
She ignored the stairway, came striding
around to the elevator door, took one
look at me and without missing a beat,
completed the circuit and fairly fled
to the stairway like a curious squirrel
that discovered something strange
and then discerned the implications
My loss, I guess
I thought she was pretty!
Reputed to be haunted she took their silly dare
She didn't believe the stories of a ghost that wandered there
The house had been a rental but no one stayed for long
And neighbour's started whispering that something there was wrong
Six years it's now stood vacant and the grounds are overgrown
And sometimes at the witching hour you'll hear a ghostly moan
With flashlight and a cell phone, she entered the old house
Then shrieked as it ran past her; a tiny little mouse
Her phone was set on filming as she checked the ground floor first
A cobweb gently brushed her cheek, she jumped and softly cursed
She started up a flight of stairs to film the second floor
But quickly bolted straight back down at the loud bang of a door
Although she didn't see a ghost the mouse and the door were enough
And so her short adventure there went on to fuel more stuff
They have known each other for so long,
None liked them, breaking them up.
Souls tried, taking her heart like King Kong.
But the man kept her as a dear teacup.
They were like friends, not loved ones.
Yet they were closer than any others.
Selves trying to break them down again runs.
Finally, they are just great couples.
Time goes by fast, people get bored.
The love fruit is not good anymore
The couple, either one will be ignored.
Returning emotions to the ground floor.
Not all love fruits are like that,
Duos make them sweet, no more combat.
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