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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
It All Started With A Parade
All walks of people crowding the streets
Like moving vessels of a mighty fleet.
Jolly Diana, a wake-up call at dawn;
A throng is gathered down the town.
Cadets go marching, called the corps;
Gutsy kids are watching from above the roofs.
Steps are drummed to a cadence;
As marshals yell to the human stream.
Big brothers joined in uniform
They are soldiers, the kids assumed.
With ecstasy without disguise,
Pride and innocence seen in their eyes.
Some beat the drums and others blow horns;
A gal is leading with a baton.
with Flags of colors and banners too;
To a festive town around they go.
Church bells tolled and clergies joined,
And so the teachers and policemen.
The politicians and constituents;
The village folks are coming in.
The air is filled with festivity
There's so much fun all through the day.
From one entertainment to another it leads;
But it all started with a parade.
Date and Time of Writing:
March 01, 2012
10:14am - 10:48am
February 28, 2012 is the 40th anniversary of Barangay Liburon in Carcar City, Cebu, Philippines from being a Sitio of Barangay Can-asujan to an independent *Barangay. Being new to the community, I had the curiosity of how the community people conducted the celebration. I have the honest comparison of my ecstasy being a 3-year old kid in 1974, having the first consciousness of a parade in commemoration of Sogod, Southern Leyte annual town fiesta that was then held every 15th of December (later moved to December 21st). As a sort of reminiscence, and how it differed to what I observed of the present kids observing the parade, led me to the writing of this poem.
* In Philippine political setting, the Barangay is the smallest administrative division. It is a community of about 800 square hectare more or less, subdivided into smaller villages called Sitios. The Barangay is headed by an elected Barangay Captain with a counsel composed of eight counselors.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
Dedicated to Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (November 11, 1885 – December 21, 1945)
I'd fought a hundred battles
through the ages past and new
I'd been a lowly foot soldier
But at times commanded too.
I was a witness of Arab mothers
Fleeing cities under-siege ;
A new age liberator,
The commander of the third.
I had served with Ceasar's legion;
The Carthaginians; and the Greeks.
When Arthur was in his Kingship,
I was a captain of the knights
A horseman tough and skillful
Of medieval cavalier;
But ages had transformed me
to dash with iron wheels
The only time I meet MacArthur
Was in the salient of St. Mehiel
We both stood erect, calm, and unmindful
To the guns and bursting shell.
Oh well take a look at Monty
Too slow for his advance
He didn't expect me to take Palermo
or Mesina to my plan
I was reproved of my harshness,
They knew not that I was somber too
I cared not of my language
As long as my point would get through
I'd mixed my words with profanities
That my orders surely stick
My men would always remember every word
While they're in the battle field
Oh my, I hate those yellow bastards
They have no place on this earth
I sent them to the frontlines
That no more they would breed
Those swivel chair commanders
Discounted my two days time
But brave soldier deserved to be rescued
Before his dog tag stops to chime.
So my men made it to Dunkirk
To the delight of McAuliffe
"Surrender!" yelled the Nazis
but "nutz" was all he said.
I was cut off of supplies and fuel
For Market Garden's sake
But after pissing the flowing River
I held the Fuhrer's nest
So soon another war was ended
Mine enemies had lost
The iron carver claimed the glory
And relieved me from my post.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
I look at the vagabond
Half lying against the wall.
He’s smiling with what he’s doing
As if he has a goal.
Sorting out the rubbish
He brought with him for long.
He lives within his own world
Humming an obscure song.
I ponder on a hermit
Why seclusion is his home;
He chose to make his abode
Where no people ever roam.
Waking up before sunrise,
He hoped to live a day;
In the coming of the twilight
Not a debt he has to pay.
I envy the singing blind man;
So skillful at his trade.
He holds instinctive talent;
Finger trekking from fret to fret.
He’s meek in conversation
But he takes pride of his roots;
And even in his blindness
He’d been able to see the truth.
I find joy in my pondering
With the lesson that it brings;
That in my introspection
I’ve learned a lot of things.
To be humble is to be happy
If one looks at life as a whole.
Behind the silence of the simple
Is a truly happy soul.
Date & Time of Writing:
April 13, 2012
12:13am - 1:22pm
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
Just like closing a book without reading a page,
Or as to a child who is tired of being a kid;
Like a preacher that won’t stay in a pulpit so long
Or to a sprinter who leaves from the running throng.
No time for laughter or for returning a grin
Or consoling oneself for the pain deep within;
No self-pity or pride to be felt by the heart
Yet reserved and reluctant for another start.
Sleep is precious and so desired by the mind
Having no urge for a smoke or for the spirit of wine;
No more is the longing for a kiss or embrace
When the will of a man only needs its own space.
Like a rooster of the dawn that would be cackling no more
As the dew that would dry without wetting at all.
Or a poet who used to spend some long sleepless nights
For the mind is now stalled with nothing to write.
No more rhyming lines or a tune for a song
Though the art for the craft is still able and strong;
But to rest and to rest is what the soul ever wanted
For the spirit that is numbed and so exhausted.
Date & Time of Writing
November 19, 2011
1:32pm – 2:05pm
I had a sleepless night and feeling the pain within my heart up to the time of this writing. I am simply getting impatient of my own patience. I feel that, for such, I become vulnerable to exploitations and blatant lies. Albeit, I still strive to be fair by keeping the pain within myself and hoping that at the end of this particular writing the pain I have inside would be just a driving force of coming up another piece of a candid poem.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
The ecosystem’s perfect design
A providence of the Great Divine.
A holistic balance that should not fail
If well-taken-cared of by those that dwell.
The atmosphere was just enough
To sustain the living and its habitat.
Green vegetations were all around
And so the spring from underground.
The fish; the birds; and the beasts that creep
Are created good and none is least.
Among the creations that co-exist
There’s a complex being, he’s nature’s best.
The best of all is the soul called man
The exact resemblance of the Supreme One.
He was far superior intellectually
Than any on land or those at sea.
That he was groomed for stewardship
To decide what’s good for all the rest.
There was no contest – ‘twas a done-deal
Because the nature’s best could have done it well.
He holds the task all through his life
With a female aide he call her wife.
And to bear offspring to fill the earth
And pass the task right at each birth.
Then intellect has grown so deep
As the sons of men explored the earth.
They sought to change what God had made;
They no longer sheltered on trees and caves.
Then he built a shelter to house his home;
He decides the size and so the form.
Proud of his strength, he broke his back;
To down a tree or slice a rock.
The task he has he soon abused;
What he ought to keep he has destroyed.
The breach and misuse of privilege
Has complicated the life he lived.
The sticks and straws to build a fire
Are no longer fitted to man’s lifestyle
He has devised a modern tool
He has learned to mine and the use of coal.
With just a click he can have light
Or get some warmth on a winter’s night.
His innovation did not end up there;
He made the bomb and drew a scare.
Primeval woodlands that roofed the slopes
Have nothing left but rotten roots.
To the torrent rain the ground exposed;
would slide so soon, it cannot hold.
Man is unmindful to what will happen;
Of the ill-effects of his own doing.
Erosion comes and floodgates opened
Through quarrying and constant logging.
He invented plastic to wrap his stuff;
As food container or drinking cup.
Then threw away in haphazard;
It blocks the creeks and causes flood.
He’s become too lazy to walk a mile;
From his vibrant youth ‘til he retires.
Before a horse had took him there
But now a car that fumes the air.
Man’s toxic waste takes deadly toll;
It warmed the sky and bore a hole.
It melts the ocean’s ancient frost;
Augmenting tides in every coast.
There is no way man can sustain
From the catastrophe of climate change.
The pestilence it brought about
Crops are destroyed by flood or drought.
But man’s too dumb to understand
The come-uppance of what he’s done.
When the life he lives becomes a hell,
He blames on God of his ordeal.
All that has happened is a result;
Man lost his shelter and source of food.
And the grimmest wrath will soon unfold
When the nature’s best is not at all that good.
Date & Time of Writing:
August 19,2012
10:17 a.m - 11:32 p.m.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
Such smile so rare that fascinates me;
Bestowed in the angel, not so long, I've known.
Like a lightning that strikes in the middle of the day,
In my heart I, quickly, built a home of her own.
An angel I've known not from a friend or a dream,
Who has teased me so gently to put-off my heartaches and pains.
She just befell in my solitude as I try to rebirth.
And helped me forget the troubles and the things that I hate.
How I love to hold her and offer her a throne
For to me she is regal and deserves to be crowned.
Before I could do it she has transformed to a form,
The angel is now a flower before the break of the dawn.
Behold! A contest erupts among the bees in the field,
To hover upon this new flower the sunrise revealed.
I could only sigh to the heavens to send a rare summer rain
To nourish and sustain this lonely rose called Lene.
Time & Date Written:
10:04pm - 10:33pm,
February 17, 2008
Dedicated to: A.T. whom I had the chance to chat in the net
when I was in Phnom Phen, Cambodia. The poem is written just
for you, my special friend, whether we've only known each
other through the net or by subconscious circumstances.
And when age wrinkles your lovely face, you can always claim
that once upon a time an obscure poet had purposely written a
poem just for you.
It was a one-time conversation(February 10, 2008) but her story
struck me to the bones that I vowed responsibility to protect her,
anyhow, if ever I will have the chance to meet her personally.
The above poem is written on imaginary impression of her that
if she ever deferred her dark plans and have the chance to remember me,
and read what I wrote, she will know that to me or perhaps to other
people she is special, desirable, and deserving of a happy life too.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
I look at you; Oh, what a lovely smile
I get dumbfounded for a while.
You fit that gown so perfectly;
And how's my get up for today?
A daddy's darling, you're his pride and joy;
And I am just a (lowly/naughty) boy.
But mom is proud of me as well;
She knows my love for you is real.
We have our hope of the life ahead;
Our dream to follow to where it leads.
A happy ending is just nonsense
Because when love is true it never ends.
We cherish moments of then and now
But the time has come for our solemn vows
Bouquets are lined for you and me
Let's walk the aisle, it's our wedding day.
Author: Jecon B. Nadela
Date & Time of writing:
Sept. 23, 2013 ; 2:03 pm - 2:35 pm
I purposely wrote the above poem as lyric of a wedding ballad for the forth-coming wedding of my niece Leslie Ann Nadela and Morris Reyes Tabada in December 2013. I came up with a melody for this song but I shall gladly appreciate a musician who may happen to come across this poem and put in his version of melody that would suite to my taste (which I prefer traditional and acoustic or un-synthesized accompaniment type) of song. Pls. send feedback if you'd like to send me your demo and have this piece of literature our collaborative piece. Thanks...
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2014
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
Dedicated to: Myself and the kindred spirits
Rise up today so gracefully and comely. Let not the present by the past be spoiled. You are entitled to what is best in the new day; do not let it wasted to loneliness and disgust. Leave the horror of your nightmares as there are good dreams to be fulfilled. You have survived and that is all that matters as you face new challenges and strife.
Life is a race but take things slowly; Pitfalls are the product of being reckless and rush. Set your goal and cast away your worries. Doubts may lead to despair and weariness forestalls a start.
Be realistic! Fantasies may provide refuge to the soul but practical decisions are conceived of tenacity and profound consciousness. Think twice as much and be subtle in accepting things. The art of acceptance is nourishment to the heart and, overtime, a calm spirit has been proven sound and wise.
Undertake your actions with a thorough passion. Perform your job without seeking attention nor trying to establish impression as you can only do so much, but strive to serve justice to the wage that you received by bringing each task well into completion. Be concerned for others but not over-acting; your honest intention may be perceived distasteful and annoying.
Putting aside your weakness, in some ways you can be a role-model. Let it be that others may learn something productive, however forbearing. You cannot always expect everyone to follow as each has its own sense of individuality and pride. Ridicule not the simple and the belittled for they too shall reap the fruits of their endeavors. Nobody can monopolize knowledge and brilliant ideas; as you see, marvelous inventions and breakthroughs are often the work of the obscure and the underrated.
Very patiently, exercise prudence and be firm in whatever you believe is reasonable. Do whatever is fitting in spite of the opposition. Many are the detractors but greater is the value of the kindred spirits.
Persevere and stay focused. Nevertheless, balance your time as not to suffer the matters of the heart. Seize the moment for life has never been without stress. Rigors and adversities have no match to a willful spirit but time and again the body must recess to rejuvenate. Nourish yourself with positive insights. It is essential in coping up with life’s concerns, albeit you may opt for aide betimes. Speak of your circumstance without articulation for he who is eager to help can simply read between the lines.
Somewhere in life’s journey there may be down phase to go through. Chums may turn backbiters or deserters and that old pals may come only to brag about their achievements rather than consoling. Of such, you may either become envious or disdained. But lo and behold! You are not a failure just because others have succeeded, and surely they have not succeeded just because you failed. Realize that everyone has his defining moment and yours is yet to come.
Therefore, be passive of the prejudice and scorning. You already have enough disappointments to get over with that it is unwise to allow such nonsense to further ruin your disposition. Nonetheless, congratulate yourself that you are not like them had it been the other way around.
Yeah! It is worthwhile to live above sufficient as long as it is through legitimate means, otherwise, the opulence will only fuel the destruction of the soul. Do not be so enticed with the material possessions in this world. What is the essence of containing everything in hand while the heart is so void? If you should spend for frivolities, take heed first the beseeching of the least of your brothers. Fortune holders are but temporary stewards and greediness is a waste of luck.
Give accordingly without expecting reciprocation. Compassion is not any act of giving but something that the heavenly angels can so relate thereby translating a prettier meaning to your existence. Indeed, the eternity that lies beyond the visible is a lot more to be hoped for than that of the fleeting life that we’re in.
Finally, refrain from judging at someone else’s yearning, but do your utmost to defy your own wayward longings. Remember, there is none more appropriate than being subservient to the will of God. In the end, the wealthy and the needy; the Master and his servant; the sinner and the saints; the wild and the tame shall face judgment just the same.
With a grateful countenance, stay humble. You are destined to be a happy soul.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
If mine heart should speak, let it speak so well;
For I may not have another time to tell.
Let me say it straight; let me say it clear,
It may not be so loud but the deaf can hear.
It's for the sane to commend me of my views
And for the fools to take me as a foe;
For my word shall either be sweet or foul
But it bears the frankness of my soul.
The sheer desire for wealth or fame
I apt no more for all is vain.
It's good enough for me to see
That I've lived a life in each passing day.
When a man is young he's at his best
And a merry soul has no time to rest.
But life's like hanging on a ledge
The soul is weakened at the ripe old age.
No amount of sleep shall recompense or mend
Of a good dream lost to awakening;
So as a speeding star in a tranquil gaze
That fell so sudden before a wish.
The time that flies and makes one old
Burgeons the burdens of an old man's load.
It shall be heavier when he departs
If he'll bear the laments of a shattered heart.
Life is doomed and to cease one day;
Not a single soul can choose to stay.
Better pave a way for the saints to stroll
So that bad old serpent could tempt no more.
Then for my own sake I'll pray with them
That my soul be freed from the hell's domain.
And my heart won't dare to sing again
Those mournful lines of life's refrain.
A blissful sunset shall start to thrive
Nocturnal solace upon my head.
Then it shall be on the day I die
When flowers bloom and birds do fly.
Author: Jecon B. Nadela
Date & Time of Writing:
10 May 2014 ; 2:03pm - 3:21pm
Thanks God I'm writing again.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2014
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Jecon B. Nadela Poem
(On Having Alzheimer's Disease)
Pondering words for some lines that may rhyme
Trying once more for a poem to pop up just in time
Shaking hands while scribbling of a thought now so scarce
Soaring afar to nowhere, to the moon or to Mars.
The vastness of the space offers nothing but void
To an irreconcilable mind not even by Gestalt or Freud
When isolation from remembrance should stand as a force
One cannot react to either luck or a curse
Detained in confusion and learning to retard
Senses are dulled and perception are blurred
But the journey is not over as others are expectant
For you to show up the same witty and vibrant
A friend would wish you'd be freed from detention
From that cell so gloomy and akin to oblivion
Sympathetic and tearful as love ones hear of your case
When the doctor declares you have Alzheimer's Disease
It's no use of regretting or of crying some more
That to shed a tear is not at all a cure
But a smile to show is cheering in waking up each day
May the only thing one remembers before departing our way.
Date & Time of Writing:
December 28, 2011
2:05pm – 2:42pm
I just happened to watch Ronald Reagan's hilarious moments and his finals days suffering with Alzheimer's Disease as posted in the internet.
Copyright © Jecon B. Nadela | Year Posted 2013
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