Bongkoy (Ongkoy)

I show this what I feel, for this Special day. Past to present, I have never prayed anyone to take your place as you are enshrine within the altar of my soul and I'm never was such so happy that mother got a ticket to be with you after you departed 37 yrs. passed by. My unfinished words are so simple. I dedicate this to you. And I beg the 'Most Supreme' that they may echo among the stellar entities and spaces. Vibrate among the inconceivable galaxies of the cosmos to the great and small and will reach the ears clear and not garbled. That may ‘The all Conceiving Consciousness’ shall find a little pleasure in what we do and did in the past, present or coming infinite moments. Happy Father’s Day to you father, and to all fathers who excellently managed to set apart themselves from the ones who do not deserved the title. Thank you for leaving behind your pen to me, it is intensely explosive and mystically beautiful.

Depart from good night’s dream before sunup— 

Move up; squeeze the heavy lids in the dark

Mutter silent lines in appeal to let up

In God’s ears, wide open to pains, to hark.

Kissed the kids’ cheeks and so, the former bride’s.

Kissed the solemn peace and slumbering eyes.

Bid goodbye to the playful onetime bride

Adieu to the placid, slumbering eyes.

Count 30 paces in winding, dirty path.

 Stops in the raspy mouth and stands static

 A moment or two—grabs the squeaky latch

Softly clears the old lip in hoary shriek.  

Still, still eyes are heavy. The sight's dreamy.

 Motions are clumsy as the soft piping

Of crickets, of Ortoptherons, still zesty

In their lighter hymns after a night cadging. 

Grasps the arms of four pound er coffee sieve

Bath it in frigid pool, senseless and dead;  

 Watch the wavy tongues, now and again, gave

A drowsy look over the blackly beads...

 

The Palm, The Pond and The Rose

Melancholy pierce the consciousness. Encompasses the whole being, tortures the soul, grab the only hope of being happy--later on, shrinks the soul into a dark pit--of pity, of despair.

Then it vents all its hopelessness in the lake of tears, brims it, as if downpour passed by, in a moment of time, to the point of asking justice.

Swarms of thick nimbus are heavy and drifting 

Conspire with grave Russian winds; fiercely cool

Caressing winds, the morning clouds in mourn

As though, when obsessed to dribble ‘pon pool.

 

The stupor pool breath bits of chilled water

The droplets wildly swelled went on gushing.

Weary eyes and achy breasts in pool linger—

Wailing, sobbing flash’ beside flirty spring.

 

Blue moment: gushy brooks, drowsy lakes

 And dopey pool, mingle in the pale palm;

The mid-curve, a pond—a rose sobs and shakes

Nay, Faun's soft euphonies ever becalm. 

Who, in this planet got stout courage ever?

Herculean strength he has, to pluck the   gloom

And tearing grief, of lonesome soul by mere

Whisper to rose’ ears, for next rosy bloom.

Look At Me with Your Eyes

Look at me with your adorable eyes.

Let me breathe the sweet breeze in my soul.

Let me cherish the dreams ‘pon your dreamy eyes,

Dosing me with cups of sherry and soaked my soul.

Gaze at me with your black relishing eyes.

Then bit by bit, we’ll savor toothsome dish

Of fruit jellies and nectar garnished pies,

We’ll swim in beebread with mermaid and fish.

 To measure out my eyes with your searching eyes.

Grab the divine yardstick or tape and look

For the breadth and height.  The sum’s in my eyes

Numberless endearments, in breasts or in looks.

Wink at me with your naughty, tempting eyes.

Tempt me, and let me know no phone smileys,

Ever surpassed your luring, amazing eyes

Much more each, in each bit, of spicy smiles.  

Then by your sticky look I think and ponder,

The burning heat in my breasts rising beat!

Whereas, silent and be dumb I was to mutter

Words; too soon, sweat dripping, glazing my feet!

Your Eyes

For Gee Ann

14th Feb 2013

Eyhm

I see you eyes glitter, beautiful and tantalizing

That none of high-tech bulbs compares

Though, they may be equipped with a thousand twinkling stars in the glowing skies

I for one--for sure, obsess the glitter in your eyes.

I see your eyes glitter beyond and above

And no one its beauty can ever share

Though birds and flowers boast their splendid colors; none of them will my heart move

I for one--for sure obsess your eyes o, endless love.

Lately, I went tapping in a nameless keyboard

That I tried to craft in my fingers boundless words

Though my words were soft and my love gentle--pretended sublime in the whole world

I for one--for sure; your eyes are incomparable that I truly adored.   

On Your Baptismal Day

Since the cask of vino aged and full

A decade past, it kept hidden scent.

The stopper burst to open and hoops fail

Then a thingy thing reeks up without hint.

The racy blood, hiding inside the shade

The soul awakes, waking her sleepy veins. 

The half-light of dawn streaking to unhide

God of light seemingly rules with no pain.

This you may or may not understand

I whisper these words in your untried ears

Incline to mutter gently as I can

Slow to be sure of getting by, pain and fears.

A decade past the cask lay ‘neath the viny

 Grapes with none but solemn peace; light and dark

Soul grows budding then goes pure and shiny

It is the day when spirit stands in her mark.

For Geemel

OFELIA (Ofel) 1500 Hrs. 25th of Oct. 2012 (Trada Onse?)

I like 'formed poetry' because it separates itself from other forms of prose. The ancient poets write it to distinguish their pieces by definite number of lines, a pre-plan rhyming scene and a definite number of lines, in so doing, a specific type of poem maybe known by the readers. Sonnet of Petrarch an structure is what I like most because of its challenging qualities in its rhyming scene and the difficulty on how to follow the pattern of end rhyme while aiming for an internal ones. A controlled number of lines for each piece in iambic pentameter (most often) per line--need some sort of not only poetic, but also, a flair in mathematics to succeed! A single idea successfully demonstrated in a fourteen-lined Sonnet is a good test of poetic capability. The spirit of old bards may got filled with delight when they know that I'm in the roster of their dwindling students.

Lately, I come across with beautiful Haiku. It has only a three cute lines where the first and the last line has five enchanted syllables while the mid-line has seven fairy-like syllables. It takes a genius to succeed in writing a real Haiku and the same, to read and understand it. It is by this assumption that I write seven of it for just one title with violations in the number of syllables per line. Anyway, I am not a genius. I pray the great bards of this type will not hold me in contempt--forever.         

  Diversion

Droplets and downpour

Mingle in bitter succession

When dark clouds crying.

Luna

Dark grayish faces

There, hang teary blackish eyes

 Chill and cold meet, mingle.

Iznart

 Byways and roadways

Endlessly, they too suffer

Tears over brim them.

J.M. Basa

Me, fingering keys

Of tottered keyboard

Cold like fingertips.

Ortiz

Unredeemed passions

Clutch mortal body and soul

Real or just a dream?

Gomez

All swim in darkness

Cold watery sepulchre

Death of warmth and light.

Maria Clara

Will howls, pelter quit?

And waken the warmth

Thereon, light ensues.