These be
the keys to life,
faith,hope and agape,
love,the greatest gift of all three-
to thee !
Note:(ichthys), or XIesoûs Khristós, Theoû Huiós, Sot?r;translates into English as 'Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior'
L1 is the opening line to TRIAD
the American Cinquain by Adelaide Crapsey
NATURE MORTE
threat of death
intransience
dead nature pictured
BODEGONES*
motifs of still life-
decorative curios
aesthetics assemble
* Still life in Spanish
POPPIES
colour sprinkles-
tissue paper petals
the gleaning strip
BREAKFAST PIECE
assortment of objects-
a flat surface
in tight focus
so minimalist
is visual simplicity-
attention eyes
dark dense austere-
stilled life
enveloped
STILLED LIFE
unmoving-
allegory
in gravitas
meditating-
spontaneous grafitti
hiku genesis
the passage of time-
our existence
in tissue-thin gasps
words in my mind's eye
soon fade-
flower in memory
Brother Jun Ibuig is a minister
Of the Gospel in the true Church Of Christ;
He's a defender of the genuine faith
Against the devil's tricks, tactics, and lies.
He is always one with the Church leader,
Obeying God's laws and sacred commands;
Not for a moment will he turn away
From the truth that he fully understands.
August ten is a very special day
To remember and celebrate His birth;
A happy event is cheerfully held
To feel the gladness, delight, joy, and mirth.
Grandma Mel Pilon and Brother Marvin
Are the two perfect co-anchors on air;
They share the limelight with the celebrant,
Producing shows seen by men everywhere.
As men listen to the radio program,
"Song And Poetry" has gained fame so big;
The YouTube viewers greatly multiply,
Loving the role of Brother Jun Ibuig.
Topic: Birthday of Bro. Eufronio E. Ibuig, Jr. (August 10)
IMPRISONED (collaboration)
by~ Jun-jun Villanueva
Urbane cavalcade - flaunt in gaiety
Warbling hymns in ego - cyclicity
Jigging gracile moves in vivacity
Relishing in zest in this gravity
Kinsfolk in flamboyant fete - oh its fate?
Smiles, elation in face delineate
Like nothing's wrong makes me exasperate
No one cares? No one adores? it's too late
Recurrent nightmares peeve me in sublime
Making incubuses remorse in rhyme
Bequeathing qualm, fright and fear - death like crime
Kith and kin in laughs while I'm in grave time...
by~ Poet Destroyer
Twittering chime parade of glee
Unspectacular weed flowing trough me.
Boxed in a box like a tick or flea.
No one understands- what they can't see!
Outside myself holding my breath-
Or should I say what is left?
Trapping torment with false courtesy.
Preexisted past, without certainty.
Locked in a sanctuary grave of ivory ribs,
My life in a vault- trashed crib.
Feet lashing against my skin.
Twirling the rootless valves of sin.
No one cares! No one adores!
My prison trash coffin brought ashore.
A collaboration with * Jun-jun Villanueva
My collaboration contest
Tales of the scholars speak noble words,
Of the mistress of the earth,
Crying tears on those who implore,
About those who have the gift of birth.
She'll whisper and talk,
With a lonely seduction,
Holding the clouds in her bosom,
Hoping and hugging with her stomach.
She will hope and wish,
When the time it takes,
Walking and talking,
Until her water breaks.
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