One
Spring day
I saw a
Beautiful scene
Children filling baskets with wild flowers
Baskets of botanic magnificence
Contented kids
Full of joy
Play in
Peace
12.9.2020
Photo 3
Love
Is the unblemished jewel
on
the crown of humanity!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 March 2020
As Yet Unblemished By Pure Beauty
That time has come in nature’s year;
That best time of all, the barren time;
That time of nothing yet but promise;
That time of the pure hope:
Late February,
unblemished by Spring’s harsh actualization,
her first hints in this time of new light,
Skunk Cabbage stirring in frozen swamps
and Redwings in marshes,
her Promise soon to be kept in perfect beauty
unbearably aching with the certainty of loss.
Vowels stir in the back of your mind,
while consonants lack a foundation.
And the page taunts, with its virgin white,
as doldrums morph into frustration.
Ideas trip over each other,
unable to realign anew.
And sparks of inspiration get doused
by sweat, trying to salvage a few.
Your pen is poised just above the page;
wit dangling tauntingly from its tip.
And as blood and ink drip and mingle,
you realize you've bitten your lip.
It feels like your muse abandoned you,
as thoughts vanish like wisps of vapor.
Yet all that you can do is sit there;
staring at the unblemished paper.
Salute to a Man of Mud with an Unblemished Heart
Rommel E. Gabitan
Clouds of mud cover his forsaken face
His hair showing strands of entangled complexities
His arms are covered with stingy memories
With all the world’s judgmental presumptions
He wanders in the corners of our fallen castles
Filled with hatred,, ignorance and neglect of men
We hear not his voice but deep in his heart
He is shouting “Hey, have mercy on me!”
We dream of Cinderellas and Prince Charmings
But this Man of Grease has nothing to cherish
Except finding tranquility and serenity of mind
In the midst of emptiness, yet he resembles a smile!
Woe to you people wearing clothes of pretention
Glittering with false gold and silver of indignation
You eat chocolates of sugar coated bitterness
Yet you spit sour drops of your putrid arrogance
He is a man swarmed with grease, mud and flies
He eats the leftovers of our bountiful banquets
But I say to you, he eats with dignity and cleanliness
For his heart is pure and sincere, despite his ugliness
White wispy clouds like Irish lace
Cast a cloak o'er the mountains face
While crisp blue skies reach for the sea
Preen like proud peacocks so that we
Can taste the beauty they possess
And perfection with our eyes caress
washing your hands
in
this holy water
shall
not leave
a blemish
upon
the
sweet unblemished moon
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