825.
Pagmamakaawa kina BBM-Sara
Oh Mahal kong BBM-Sara
Ako sa inyo ay nagmamakaawa
Ibalik niyo po ako
Sa CapSU na pinagmulan ko
Bilang AO sa opisina
Na guro rin sa mga bata
Dito ay magagawan ko
Ng mga tula ang ating Pangulo
Gaya ng mga tula
Na aking nagawa
Noon kay Pang. Noynoy Aquino
Sa CapSU ko lang magagawa ito
Hindi ko na yata kaya
Na sa DepEd magparanking pa
Wala na akong panggastos dito
Sana sa CapSU nalang po ako
Mga requirements napasa ko na
Na-interview narin ako nila
Qualified at Eligible po ako
Sa posisyong inaplayan ko
Dito nalang ako sana
Hanggang sa maging Professor ako rito.
-10/25/2022
(Dumarao)
*My CapSU Comeback
O Lord, You have built the heavens with wisdom,
The earth rests upon the pillars of Your counsel.
The rivers run because You have spoken,
The mountains stand because You have decreed.
Teach me to number my days with understanding,
That I may walk in the fear of Your name.
Gold and silver vanish like smoke in the wind,
But the word of the Lord endures forever.
I sought delight in gardens and palaces,
Yet my soul hungered for the bread of Your presence.
Many sons have strengthened your house,
Yet unless You guard it, the watchman wakes in vain.
Give me a heart inclined to mercy,
That I may judge the poor with fairness.
For wisdom is brighter than the morning,
And Your truth shines beyond the stars.
Blessed be the Lord from everlasting to everlasting.
Too raise up Kings and throw kings down.
The night pressed in with a velvet hand,
I was so tired, you’d understand.
All day the world had sung its song,
But not for me—I did not belong.
The streets were lit, the windows warm,
Yet none could shield me from the storm.
I wore my smile like Sharon's borrowed dress,
While hollow winds moved through my chest.
I thought of spring, I thought of rain,
Of all I loved that could not remain.
There was no anger, only release,
A soft surrender, a will toward peace.
I let the darkness close me in,
It felt like love beneath my skin.
Do not weep, for I am free—sigh,
The world was never meant for me.
Suitors lined up, hoping to court me
Promising plethoras of pleasure
Tantalizing, teasing hints of treasure
To move my reticent, reluctant lips to say ‘Oui’
To obsequious bow to my innumerable charms,
While in a mirror of pomp, I primp and pose
When spot a man – mustachioed, mysterious – undisposed
To flatter my golden hair, narrow waist or delicate arms
An unlikely king or composer of Psalms
Ill-at-ease with strongmen and heroes
Counselor to hobos, weirdos and zeroes
And I, drawn to his visage with increasing alarm
Entry in "When You are Old" contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Date: Jan. 14, 2025
The night swallowed her, quiet as the sea,
Where the waves carried whispers, heavy and deep—
Sara, a ripple lost in the currents of time,
A flicker gone dark beneath the moon's hollow eye.
Oceans curled their backs to kiss the blue sky,
Choked on salt and her long drawn out sighs, drowning what they knew—
Her words, her marrowed bones, her soft, dissolving light
Faded brown foam, softly entered the night .
What does the earth remember of her?
The ground never speaks.
A wound wrapped in roots, bruised by forgotten feet,
While people, fleeting shadows, scavenge the shore
For echoes, shells, the small dust of her name.
Only the moon, that pale, silent judge,
Still sees the dance of waves, oceans, and sky—
A rhythm born of grief, endless as her loss,
Turning the world beneath a weeping star.
When will there come soft rain, serene and slow,
To kiss the silent earth and make it bloom?
The skies have whispered tales of falling snow,
But rain will banish all the heart’s deep gloom.
The trees stand still, their branches full and high,
While waiting for the tender rain to weep,
And birds in distant clouds still yearn to fly
Through skies where gentle showers softly fall.
I dream of days when petals wake to hear
The melody of droplets on the leaves,
When silver streams reflect a world made clear,
And night’s despair ian liquid dusk relieves.
O' when will rain descend, and hearts find peace?
Beneath the cloudy veil, I wait to see.
I long for that soft, forgotten song
That rain again will come so I can weep.
By day she walks among the weary streets,
With quiet strength, her heart a steady flame,
In every gaze, a thousand stories meet,
She knows their pain, though they won't speak her name.
Her hands are soft but firm with gentle care,
They wipe away the sorrows of the night,
A whispered word, a balm to calm despair,
Her presence turns the dark to tender light.
No cry unheard, no soul too lost to find,
She bears their weight, yet never bends her spine,
For kindness flows like rivers from her mind,
She serves not for herself, but what's divine.
And though her heart breaks with the world each day,
Her empathy renews, love shows the way.
My toes are petals, pale and small,
Whispering secrets to the night;
They dance upon the marble floor,
Tracing dreams in silver light.
Each step I take, they softly press
Against the earth, so cool and wide,
They know the songs of summer’s end
And winter’s kiss, where we would hide.
They curl within the velvet sheets,
A gentle prayer in twilight's keep,
They know the hush of midnight winds,
The tender touch of restful sleep.
Oh, silent soldiers of my soul,
You lead me where my heart would go.
Your world is too small for me to live in,
The stars are cramped in your narrow sky,
You hem the moon with shadows so thin,
And still expect not even me to sigh.
Your oceans are pools that barely stir,
No deep tides rise, no wild winds blow,
The rivers are tamed, with banks that aren't full,
And I am lost whenever they cease to flow.
Your gardens are lovely, but walls enclose,
The blooms that fade with the setting sun,
I crave the fields where the wild things grow,
But here, they wither and die.
Your world is too small, too close, too still,
I long for lands that you cannot see,
For in your world, I cannot be filled
The space that calls oh so endlessly.
Grace is the glitter of the morning dew,
A silent dance of sunlight through the trees,
The tender touch of petals kissed by blue,
A song that rides upon the softest breeze.
It is the gentleness of falling leaves,
A moonlit path that leads us through the night,
The solace found in twilight's quiet eves,
A heart that dreams in colors pure and bright.
Grace is the way the world forgives the rain,
The way the stars hold secrets within,
The way the earth forgets its ancient pain,
And blooms anew when winter’s breath is slow.
Grace is the peace that lingers in a sigh,
A fleeting glimpse of heaven passing by.
Purple in the sky, the night is clear,
The quiet waves sigh softly in my ear,
A tender hymn of love the ocean weaves,
As twilight gently falls on whispering leaves.
The sea reflects the sky's amethyst hue,
Each wave a lover’s touch, soft and true,
Their whispers blend with winds that softly sing,
Of distant shores and love’s eternal spring.
Beneath the stars, the ocean’s heart beats slow,
In rhythmic pulses that only lovers know,
The moon’s soft light, a silver veil so fine,
Lover's love so deep where ocean and the sky
then entertwine.
In the night, where dreams and waters blend,
The sea’s embrace is where all sorrows end,
And in its depths, where secrets softly lie,
There’s love eternal, purple in the sky.
The roses wilt in heavy sun,
Their petals frail and worn,
Beneath the sky where shadows run,
And leaves are gently torn.
The laughter of the golden days
Fades softly with the light,
As twilight’s silver fingers raise
The veil of coming night.
A breeze that once was warm and sweet
Now chills the lonely air,
And in the grass where lovers meet,
The silence whispers there.
Oh, summer’s end, you're gentle grief
Lays bare the heart’s own sigh.
For even in the brightest leaf,
We see the colors die.
Where are the Bakers of Poetry Soup?
I miss their energy and the queen’s haikus
I hope all is well let me visit their page
For no response from soup mail I made
Bill and Sara are you ok?
My dear Souper Sara Etgen-Baker
tastes bittersweet moments.
Sweet, because she's riding
on a beautiful horse
to be a number one.
Bitter, because she doesn't
have the same time
to spend in the PoetrySoup
with her brothers and sisters.
We've already missed you
my Texan friend,
you must know.
Let me give you my advice
my dear friend:
Ride well on this race
that life offers you,
don't miss what you always can have.
Be brave, because your horse
is the best.
You can only expect
to reach the goal of your dreams,
the summit of that high mountain
you've been trying
to climb so hard for years.
I just want to wish you
the best of luck
to achieve what you deserve.
in my observance,
big Sara Etgen-Baker
nice keen poetess
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Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.