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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
When the red leaf falls
it echoes with pounding relief,
it sets itself free
from the barren tree...
When the red leaf falls,
the canyons cry
out their echoing, joyful
call from wall to wall
and the yellow wheat
in the valley below
blows a sigh of relief --
grief is blown from the exhaust
of every downtown truck
delivering pain and happiness
in echoing stutters and stops.
When the red leaf falls,
the walls of China crumble,
the ocean roars
and spits and spins
the howling winds,
like some pumped up balloon
that hasn't been tired,
being set free beneath
the blue-black sky,
speckled with fluff
of cotton candy clouds
from Montana to Madrid,
covering the continents with
blankets of blaring red
and gold passion...
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2010
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
From weariness of toil, what a joy I feel
Having heard of a voice with such a magical spell
So melodious and dulcet like a tinkling bell
Surely it does not sound an ominous knell.
To me her voice is pristine and pure
Every word I wait, for it means so sure
Bereft not nor devoid of beauty, it lures
Transcending my soul to a misty lair of grandeur.
How I wish to be bound in your warm embrace
All my woes and worries vanish without a trace
Your voice can make me come or tarry as I choose
Just tell me the words your heart lets loose
Nothing will I ask for but an ineffable joy
With you my soul entangles even the most wicked ploy.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2008
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
I got my pen and paper after a quizzical ride
I tried to squeeze my mind and set some work aside
But nothing, nothing really effuses
Not a single word fluidly oozes
Weary as I slept not in yesternight
Rummaging o'er jungles of paper stretched so tight
Yet my passions surge and desires rise
To yield the crops of thought before sunrise
And greet the day of parched land dry
Awful! Not a single word chimes a try
Now the quill and ink are dead, but the poet seems alive
In a last ditch of efforts, fecundity of thought tries to revive
So that once again, immortal words ultimately say
The most beautiful thoughts from within my heart lay.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2010
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
I used to write the songs I never sang
I used to be the music I never heard
As time lapses in its infinite reality
Memory flashes aureate moments to cherish
One final note is heard to complete such symphony
In a magical spell of repetitive tinkling silver bells
Tinkling, tinkling, tinkling
Undeniable merriment it foretells
The song, one last composition
Of pride and prejudice
Of sense and sensibilities
Echoeing in every nook and cranny
Lights glare up to heighten the passion
As the songbird sings the final opus
Audible enough for the lending ears
Finally, a tribute, an ode, a song for progeny.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2008
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
I am the world
I am the poem
I am the world of poems
I am the poem
I am the world
I am the poem of the world.
I am the poem
I am the world
A poem...
A world...
I am...
I am the infinite world
I am the wordless poem
I am the word of poems.
I am the world
I am the word
I am the poem
I am the world of poems.
A word
A world
A poem
A world of poems
A poem of the world
I am.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2008
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
When I read the learned poet
Whose poem has words so magical,
I hear the sound of music
As melodious as a seagull.
Nothing compares to its grand power -
Every word edifies a castle's tower;
I sense the smell of the crimson rose
That bends a lady's gracious pose.
The poem in tempest creates a lull
With power to heal, the words dare speak.
Silently evoking illusions so quintessential
When finally I learned, I came to understand.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2008
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Francisco Renion Jr. Poem
As the dewy morn plays with the radiant sun
Flashes of her thoughts keep me on the run
Rising up from bed to fix a hot tea cup
Image of her exquisite beauty turns me numb.
Along the path we trek and eventually tryst
Greet the morning sun with a passionate kiss
Day by day her thoughts never fade away
She makes me whisper in twilight and say
'With you, my heart leaps up a child at play'
The unfathomable feelings of freedom lay
Never before felt until I set my sight upon thee
What a fortunate life I hold to have you with me
For you're the one who drifts waters from land;
Till the day the ocean doesn't touch the sand.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2008
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