Flowers

By the soft, early morning light,

I strolled in my garden so bright,

And there,enjoyed the blissful sight,

Of flowers shrouded by the night.

I beheld them in reverie,

And hoped to preserve their beauty;

Their fragrance that long enticed me,

Nagged my mind with its mystery.

Enthralled, I fondly watched them glow,

In sweet colors of the rainbow;

As butterflies that thrilled me so,

Kiss their petals, and then they go.

Now, in the lonely afternoon,

Treading grounds where petals are strewn,

I see why flowers go so soon,

And butterflies leave their cocoon.

 

Ode to Jessamine

Fairest bloom of summer,

Kissed by May time shower;

Why must you leave so soon,

Oh, sweetheart of the moon?

Now that storm days have come,

Joy in my heart is gone;

Blossoms that I adore,

Fragrance possessed, no more .

Fallen petals that deck 

The earth , I now collect ;

Faded, precious token,

Of star bits from heaven.

I'll always remember,

Withered soul of summer

And cherish with fondness,

Your enchanting sweetness.

Dress the Girls

Color young girls' faces pink and rosy, 

Make them look sweet fourteen and not forty;

Don't wrap them in the robe of their mommy,

Garb them in pastels of cream and peachy.

Let them wear their long hair soft and bouncy,

Windblown and adorned with something dainty;

Like a band, ribbon or flower so gay,

Not a hairdo that looks stiff and sticky.

Make them look fresh, huggable and carefree,

In looking mature,there is no hurry

When it comes soon,you'll truly be sorry,

So dress the young girls the way they should be.

Gumamela

You grow within the rhythm of summer and rain,

Singing to your bright red blossom that looks so grand to me;

Though you breathe no scent of unforgettable fragrance,

You tenderly clutch my heart with a touch of mystery.

For even when you leave so soon at the close of the day,

And your withered petals down to the ground, crinkled, they lay;

Yet, the splendid radiance of your color , I recall ,

Till shadows of night lure my carefree soul to slumber fall.

Then when the world is warm, again you rise and ache to bloom,

And burn with gay colors of blazing hues ,defying the gloom;

When I gently caress your ruffled hem, you seem to smile,

Spread your gown with more flare, filling the earth with cheer awhile.

 

Blossoms by My Window

Flowers peeping at my window make me happy,

They seem to greet a sweet "Hello" to me;

Their colors blend in splendid harmony,

Bringing cheer to a heart that's lonely.

I reach out my hand to touch them,

And gently feel their tender stem;

I run my fingers through their hem,

While the early birds sing their morning anthem.

Then I recall a sad refrain to my mind,

I once heard from a friend I left behind;

Among my memories time and again I find,

With its every line in my heart entwined.:

  "We always hurt the one we love,

    Just a we pick the sweetest rose,

     And let its petals fall."

Fair blossoms in my hand I slowly set free,

They seem to giggle and chuckle with glee;

As they allow other adoring eyes to see,

Their magnificent but evanescent beauty.

..

I Love Yellow

I love yellow. In psychology,it indicates cheer and happiness.In art, it is a warm and vibrant color. Fernando Amorsolo's paintings of Philippine sceneries are bathed in yellow sunbeams to tell the world that his country is a sun blest land of cheer, happiness and warmth. Medically ,yellow is a muscle and nerve builder. It can aid circulation, reduce swelling and works as a laxative.

I love yellow. It is the Vatican color. The banner of the Catholic Church is white and yellow,the symbol of heaven and holiness.When our grandmother died, we garbed her in a gown of gold terno inside her casket to show that she has lived in this world for 100 years and 312 days as a devout Roman Catholic.We set the trend of using yellow lace on the canopy and yellow ribbons on the background of her coffin during her wake,instead of the usual deep purple ribbons. All fresh flowers were yellow too. The royal mourning of our Malay ancestors was yellow , and because almost 75% of Malayan blood runs through our veins,we broke the tradition of pinning black bar pins on our chest during the funeral ; instead, we wore yellow ribbons to mourn the death of our matriarch. Her grave was strewn with yellow roses.

I love yellow. It is the symbol of freedom.As an American tradition, once a political or war prisoner was set free, he was welcomed by his countrymen by tying yellow ribbons around the oak trees along his way home. This is why "Tie a Yellow Ribbon "was the favorite song of Ninoy , because he was also a political prisoner who had not been proven guilty of any criminal offense. Yellow ribbons symbolized his freedom and the return of democracy.I can't reconcile the fact that a freedom fighter and defender of democracy who advocated respect of human rights had to be hated, scorned , insulted, berated and cursed. Ninoy loved his country and the Filipino people to the point of sacrificing his own life.He had not committed any crime  against anybody.His only noble aspiration was to set his countrymen free from a dictatorial rule.His family,relatives, friends,followers and political ally do not deserve to be treated with contempt, insult, discrimination,ridicule and sarcasm.

I love yellow.Call me dilawan, I'm proud of it. Thanks for the compliment. You affirm that I belong to the intelligent group with high level of character,education and refinement.

Song to Iloilo

Iloilo, our very own most precious gem,

Enchanting queen of the Western Visayan realm;

In our fatherland's long forgotten yesterday,

Nobly printed is your colorful history.

You are the cherished home of our dear forefathers,

Who in search for freedom, scoured the seamless waters;

Fiercely defended and held in veneration 

Ever from generation to generation.

Iloilo, our homeland bountiful and fair,

Your vast and verdant plains are bathed with heaven's care;

By the playful waves, your hem is fondly caressed,

And tenderly kissed by the sun before its rest

Though someday, we may be drifted by destiny ,

To a horizon hundreds of miles faraway

Back to your lap, where our life first dawned,we will be,

To offer triumph for your honor and glory.

 

Anonymity

 Mid the night's fretful stillness,

My mind fathoms the darkness;

Pondering the senselessness,

Of a life in loneliness.

I am but a lowly weed,

Thriving by a rough wayside;

Passersby pluck every blade,

Of my bud and bare my seed.

I can't look back at my past,

With a smile that can last,

To hide the shadowy cast,

Of  life that is wrecked and crashed.

I have nothing to cherish,

There's nothing to hope or wish;

For dreams shatter and perish,

In the gloom of deep anguish.

All that I can claim for me,

Is a handful of today

Lived in anonymity,

By this weed, nude of identity.

Who Am I ?

I am but a grain of sand in the ocean bed,

No one has ever noticed that I existed;

I am a wee voice in the wilderness, unheard,

Drowned into oblivion by the cries of the world.

I am a distant dying star, silent and cold,

Nurturing so many sad old stories,untold.

I am a poor,lost hunter seeking for a home,

A benighted weary soul with nowhere to roam.

I am a lonely sailor longing for the shore,

After a long grapple with the rough seas that roar.

I am a lump of clay formed by the Almighty;

A nameless being whom He baptized as "me". 

Childish Wishes

 I wish,the earth is a garden,

Like the long talked about Eden;

Where leaves are silver when olden,

And petals turn gold when fallen.

Wish, there are fruits in every tree,

So very many as can be;

That no creature must go hungry,

And life is an eternity.

I wish too, that every mountain,

With sturdy trees, fully-laden

And merry birds in their haven,

With live tunes, the day awaken.

I wish that every human sees,

Wondrous, pretty tiny fairies,

Dance on tiptoe with awesome ease,

To the melody of the breeze.

And wish, a child again I were,

Curled on the lap of my mother;

Resting my head on her shoulder,

Feeling her love, warm and tender.

Save the Earth

The sea is red,

Fishes are dead;

I truly dread,

Water is polluted.

If trees are cut,

Land will be hot;

Mountains will be bald,

There will be flood.

We won't live longer,

If none will care;

To love and spare,

The gifts of nature.

Think of life's worth,

And the future births;

Plant trees henceforth, 

And save the earth.

(Thi poem was written by my son, Noknok during his student days. 

Manggad nga Ginpasipad-an

 Didto anay sa balud,

May narra nga hanggod,

Sang baha nga gin-anod 

Kag gindaldal sa lawod.

Hinampas s'ya sang balod,

Nabali kag nautod,

Pobreng narra'ng ginpulod,

Dalayon nga nalunod.

Ang sa narra dinangtan,

Ang tawo ang ginbangdan

Iya ginpasipad-an,

Ang mga kakahuyan.

Ginhawan kag gintutdan,

Ang mga kabukiran,

Tubtub tagsa ka ulan,

Ang indi na mapunggan.

Tubi nagadalagan,

Panaog sa kaumhan,

Ang tanan nga katamnan

Sang lay-un tinabunan.

Pati pa ang kawayan,

Sang bulos man tinaban,

Nga nagasinggitan,

"Sala gid sang katawhan!"

Pag-abot sang tag-init

Ang adlaw nagpasingit,

Kalibutan, 'gawiit, 

Dughan n'ya nagasakit.

Gin-antos lang sing pilit,

Ang dulot nga kapait,

Kag ang latum nga dalit 

Sang daku'ng manoghalit.

Nagsunggod man ang ulan 

Kay wala na ang abyan ,

Nga iya mahapitan,

Didto sa kalasangan.

Bug-os nga kapatagan,

Amat-amat namalhan,

Sa kasal-anan ni Juan,

Naumid ang tanan!

( This is an Ilonggo version of the Ballad of the Old Narra Tree)

Because I Planted a Tree

 What did I plant because I planted a tree?

A thousand things that we daily see;

I planted the ships that cross the sea,

And the shade from the hot sun free.

I planted the buildings big and small,

The rubber tires and the rubber ball;

I planted a home for birds and insects to rest,

A shelter for wild animals in the forest.

I planted pieces of furniture ,elegant and durable,

To fill the hall up to the wall ;

Living ornaments that make the world beautiful,

And paper books with pictures so colorful.

I planted windbreaks that disrupt the gale,

And wooden wheels that rattle on the trail;

I planted nature's hands that grip the soil fast,

Preventing erosion when flood is in full blast.

So, too the natural siphons that hold surface water,

And save the earth from getting drier;

 All these,I did and I say proudly,

Only because I planted a tree !

The World Will End

 The birds will sing no more,

Trees have fallen by the score;

Seeds were drifted to the shore,

The birds will sing no more.

The flowers shall not bloom again,

Neither shall come the rain;

The bees shall wait in vain,

The flowers shall not bloom again

The sun will glare in the sky,

The fountains shall run dry;

There will be no water for you and I ,

The sun will glare in the sky.

The world will come to an end,

With the calamities heaven will send;

If man's evil ways, he shall not mend,

The world will come to an end.

Note:

(This my own style of alliteration.)

The Ballad of Old Narra Tree

Down the river by the valley,

Gruesome death seized old Narra tree;

By the flood, 'twas swept ragingly,

Left at the mercy of the sea.

Hit and tossed by the angry waves,

It badly broke all of its limbs;

In the heart of the ocean's realms,

It was buried with all its dreams .

Old Narra's woeful destiny,

Was man's responsibility;

He trampled very heedlessly,

Each big and little living tree.

He ruthlessly burned the forests,

And cleared the hills and the mountains;

All these, he did until the rains,

Came swiftly rushing down the plains.

Roaring wildly, the waters ran,

Towards the farms of the lowland;

Covering every blade and strand,

With silt and mud from the highland.

Even the slumbering bamboo,

By the current was carried too;

Its creaking screams seemed to echo, 

"Stupid man, I blame none but you!"

Then came the season of heat,

The red sun glared in rays the seethe;

Scorching poor Mother Earth that writhe,

As she nurses her burns with spite.

She suffered and endured with gripe,

The grave disaster and the plight,

Brought about to the utmost height ,

By ignorance and dim foresight.

Rain sulked too ,for it couldn't find,

Friend Narra, in the vale enshrined;

Whom it used to call in the bend,

On its way to the rainbow's end.

And so, drought spelled over the range,

Fields died from dehydrated veins;

Through man's blunder, old Narra was gone,

And spared from heaven's wrath was none!