there's a gentleness in the trade winds
dancing in the palm fronds
just beyond my balcony
where lie the rolling waves
kneading the shore
pelicans gliding those crests aloft
as the magnificent frigates glide above
rare occasions the dolphins debut
racing always southward
past the river and into the bay
thrilling the surfers on the long wave
to have such ocean brethren at play
and the later delights from this view
the setting sun in a disappearing glow
watching continually for that moment
the last gasp of the green flash
but by far my favorite, the descending moon
submerging into a silver highway
a path that beckons me to the other side
where you watch it rise
and as i watch it go
i find happiness in knowing
the joy it brings to one i loved
and still do
the absent one from this balcony
Oregon 9/25/26
I sometimes imagine
sailing on a blue sailboat
southward along Africa
an albatross soaring above my head
the scent of cloves and vanilla in the air...
as I am approaching the shores
of legendary Zanzibar
I suddenly awaken painfully…
still it’s wonderful to dream
with eyes wide open
119.
Leaf on Water
Gracefully descending
Downward it's coming
Southward it's going
Lowering, lowering
Thin and subtle
Light and gentle
Now on the shackle
Of water level
Chlorophyll coloring
In water it's brewing
White clam is opening
Tasting, tasting.
-04/24/2012
(Dumarao)
*for Vet.Med. poem in Salingsing Issue of 1st Sem., AY 2011-12
Issue of 1st Sem., AY 2011-12
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
maple leaves hemorrhage onto the pavement
hurried commuters wear wool coats
squirrels dash about, burying acorns
metallic tang of dying light
decay clotting the sky’s vein.
I pocket pecans, hard and cold.
frost fingerprints the morning grass
geese stitch southward through the clouds
gold leaves turn to gangrene
Hershey’s kisses wrappers blow against gravestones
October's blusteriness arrives:
a handwritten sky smudged gray.
earth exhales: damp soil, crushed leaves.
October dying beautifully.
The Prisoner in the Land of Holocaust
An east wind began to blow upon the holocaust of the west. As the one from the north stepped southward to pull a broken soul out from its prison. This prison was a deep pit with smooth sheer walls fashioned by the prisoners very own hands. The light from the one from the north pierced through the darkness of that prison. Like the moon taking on the light of the sun, the prisoner began to take on the light of his liberator.
The prisoner's lack of strength now endowed with a measure of hope and of power. With his strength renewed the prisoner reached up from below, just as the one from the north reached down from above. The hands of both meeting in a place called the middle. With hands clasped together with the strength of a 3 fold cord, the one from the north elevated the prisoner up and then out from the inside of that pit. That prisoner was set down upon the ground once called holocaust, now known as the land of the one whom was set free.
Ichi Katauta: “First Value: Love of Closure”
harlequin stage, left
vibrance peels a tapestry
the wilted absolved its grounds
Ni Katauta: “Second Value: Love of Survival”
squirrels store the scavenged
empty nests v-shapes southward
healthy surrenders the weak
Sedokada: “Sixth Evaluation: Love of Perpetuity"
bunnies graced the moles
foxes leap at the snowbound
bears, closeted in caverns
finesse touch canvassed
barren wastelands abiding
instants of sunlight’s promise
Autumn is near; listen and you might hear
birds chatter more and cicadas singing.
Asters and bright goldenrod will appear.
Southward bound, the geese in V’s start winging.
Longer grow the nights. You may also see
farmers bustling in their ripening fields.
Days are cooling down degree by degree.
How lovely the bounty late summer yields.
There’s just a certain something in the air.
Whether a feeling, scent, or just a breeze
that blows with tranquility through my hair,
the last of summer’s rays I wish to seize.
Seven silver snakes
suddenly slither southward
seeking summer sun.
The rains are here, relentless
as ever
The grass blade is excited like
never
The season of hibernation is
over
Swirling in water, as duck dumpling
in sauce
The blade of grass has come home to
grow
It is a rich gourmet of moisture and
nutrients
Thrusts the roots, taking its journey
southward
And the shoots also going
northwards
The grass blade has come to take its
place.
As the rains continue in its
season
The lush of greenery fills the
reasons
Natural beauty in such lyrical
passion
Paradise in a paradox,
Laying her among
the lilies.
I have been in unequaled turmoil,
Overused in my personal trauma,
Drowning in tear rivers of tragedy,
Soul dipping southward trajectory,
But they do not seep from these eyes,
Nor do they follow the cries,
Just the heavy emptiness that thrives,
Within each breath hope in me dies,
But then there are those who remind me,
Why I have walked the road of words ardently,
Thank you for reigniting my linguistic dream,
I want you to know,
that you are the intrinsic thread that holds my spirit seem.
Tango dancing, sol and earth, opt to lengthen
orbits around which they twirl, separation,
taste of death, as icy breeze blowing forewarns …
birds to fly southward.
Wasps and snakes, both hibernate, bats and snails too,
warning Mother Earth to draw closer to source,
before life as we know it thus breathes its last …
lesson for mankind.
Days shorten, nights lengthen but do we not see
winter flowers joyously blooming, wafting
fragrance teasing, delighting both heart and soul …
God within calls us.
Heavily, I lay down my head.
You said this time would be different.
As blue as the evening sky, this is true.
Each bruise is in a different place.
My face faces southward to the lowest degree,
dirty from your unwashed hands.
Plans are rearranged, like my shifted skin.
You say you want to begin again.
The gin's poured anew, like wholesome juice.
Loose are your boundaries and new broads,
goddesses of lust and deceit.
You cheat yourself of what could be.
Freedom becomes my dissociative hope.
Soap never washed me clean.
I lean into an open dream,
a different time, a new paradigm.
10-9-24
The green is turning brown again.
Farmers are harvesting their grain.
Birds are planning their southward trek.
And I'm enjoying awesome sunsets from my deck.
The early morning dews are stick on the green grass.
And sooner than later, the hurricane season will pass.
maple trees blaze red
geese soar southward overhead . . .
October’s rising
From far a cool wind gently blows,
There's a pleasantness in the air.
Harsh summer heat steadily slows.
The leaves of trees, new colours wear.
Autumn has come in time to cheer
From far a cool wind gently blows
The season brings everything dear
Stock in squirrel’s granary grows
Leaves fall ending their sprightly shows.
Some go fluttering in the air
From far a cool wind gently blows
Some trees are going starkly bare
Flowers begin to fade and die,
As the season’s about to close
Many birds in flock southward fly.
From far a cool wind gently blows
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