Life in Stanzas

Looking Through the Throes of Death

2008-08-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

Slowly, I unlocked my steps
pressing my sores to the murky ground
pain becomes almost unbearable
will there be nails and thorns
a hole ready to engulf me
or a shroud trying to cover an unbreathing spirit?

Slowly, I shut my ears to hear nothing
including the raspy tremble of my fear
unwilling that I am close to a whisper
I said, “Am I Job’s reincarnation?”
my thoughts muttered underneath its breath,
“No. God isn’t that so hard.”

Slowly, I blocked my senses with a mantra,
“I would die an honorable woman.”
Then I fancied the oat cells scramble through my veins
like rebel troupes killing every innocent soul
leaving bomb shells that will detonateanytime soon.
Fiercely.

Slowly, I began to dread the silence
I was waiting for my soles to be pricked
or a thick cloud of darkness to embrace me
angry mavericks extricating my last ounce of oxygen
my thoughts dwindle in stupor for an explosion
but there was none.

“Am I still alive?”
My lungs inhaled the pollution of this city
then I exhaled a rant, “Off the hook!”
That’s when I realized I am inside a bus home
slept over half-way reading about Death by Jagad Guru
Siddhaswarupananda Paramahamsa.

Cancer killed my mother. I fear that the same oat cells would bring me to my grave. Ah, death!

Wild Boar

2008-04-16T02:29:00.001-07:00

triumphant, I gave two creatures life
hoping that they impart to the world
the real meaning of their valued existence
like what Jesus did
driving bad spirits into the herd

Waterlily

2008-04-16T02:24:00.001-07:00

floating, freedom to be
loving the water that cleanses what is physical
purifying it in return
symbiosis
the science of co-existing
and the essence of living

Cubicle

2008-03-11T03:29:00.000-07:00

A lad with so many dreams
“I wanna graduate,” he says,
“just give me a chance.”
A future withdrawn.

A heart-broken mother
“My daughter is pregnant.
My son was given no chance.”
Chose guidelines over pity.

Young lady with a pretty face
“I did no wrong,” she claims
“my friends are no goons.”
Cursed the system.

A proud mom I believe
“They cannot touch my daughter.
Negotiate with my lawyer.”
Did justice prevail?

An emotionally traumatized boy
“My parents are in Italy.
Spent vacation there last summer.”
Walked away from reality.

A pained grandmother
“My grandson ran away.
He might have gone to his mother.”
Sheltering a wounded child.

Two energetic freshies
“He hit me hard,” one says.
“You hit back harder,” said the other.
Repairing a broken pride.

One of the two came back
“Please don’t tell my father.
He will hurt me for sure.”
A displaced aggression.

A teeny-bopper craving for love
"I don't give a damn," she whispers,
"Nobody cares anyway." Tears fell.
Pretensions and denial.

An experimenting youngster
“I am not what they claim I am.
I didn’t even say those words.”
Trying to cover a jarred note.

A trusting mother
“I am not after what others think of.
But if it’s proven, he must go.”
Credibility heads on.

All these and more in two months time
an everyday drama unfolds
emotions break free
inside my cubicle.

Posted August 2, 2007 in CABAnata

Rocking Chair

2008-03-10T03:40:00.000-07:00

Rocking chair
I sat on your lap
sweetly, you carry me
comforting my fear
from that hairy monster
grandpop created in my mind.

Rocking chair
I cling to your arm
slowly, you lull me to sleep
soothing my tiredness
from that enjoyable play
I shared with some friends.

Rocking chair
I lay my head on your breast
caringly, you hug me
calming my senses
from the draining hours in school
I spent in my own excellence.

Rocking chair
I rest my body unto you
softly, you wrap your warmth around me
easing my scorned heart
broken by some cruel beings
I met and trusted and loved.

Rocking chair
I lean my exhausted thoughts to you
with sensitivity, you understand me
relieving my weariness
from the demands of my work
I devote myself to.

Rocking chair
I now run my fingers to your skin
old and rickety you may seem
a touch of you still alleviates my burden
from the strains of this world we live in
where together we have aged with.

Memories flowed upon the sight of granny's old rickety rocking chair when I visited her last weekend. Cried a bit. So much memories. Now it's kept in the stock room, where granny can rock no more. (reposted)

Blank

2007-12-19T02:29:00.000-08:00

I stare

blank wall

I look

blank paper

I see

blank canvass

then

I am happy

more free

to be me

Tetris

2007-12-14T02:21:00.000-08:00

Pieces fall
blocks of varied shapes
drop
in their destined place;
Player
curses for a bad move
rejoices at times
when that piece
reaches the ground,
screwed up
or just right.
Experience Tetris
in your life.

Walls

2007-11-28T19:52:00.000-08:00

build walls

shut cruelty outside self

truth

enemy lurks inside us

Ripples

2007-11-28T19:37:00.000-08:00

pebbles

thrown into the water

water ripples

water engulfs

life

Tears

2007-11-27T01:50:00.000-08:00

teardrop

water cascading

minute

concludes an entire story

A Dozen Pens

2007-11-23T02:15:00.001-08:00

A dozen pens

An array of bright colored features

Their tears creatively spilled love

Danced with strength and fear

Spoke a dozen happiness

Slashed the tranquility of peace

Healed the woundedness of grace.

A dozen pens

An array of dark stained beings

Their blood shed enlightenment

Crossed the hollowness of mortals

Conveyed a dozen cynicism

Paralyzed the greatness of valiance

Filled the emptiness of faith.

A dozen pens

An array of encapsulated truth

Their pride ridiculed humility

Laughed over the cries of oppression

Wrote a dozen prejudice

Silenced the whimpering of justice

Resurrected the crippledness of honor.

A dozen pens

An array of estranged creatures

Their poignance crumbled holied esteems

Chose between beauty and wisdom

Mimicked a dozen insecurities

Gagged the shouts of confidence

Pulsated nothing but I…

I am a dozen pensI

can be an array of bright colored features

I can be an array of dark stained beings

I can be an array of encapsulated truth

I can be an array of estranged creatures

Whatever that I am…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

My tears can creatively spill love

My blood can shed forth enlightenment

My pride can ridicule the humble

My poignance can crumble the esteem of others

Whatever that I can…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I dance with strength and fear

I cross the hollowness of mortals

I laugh over the cries of the oppressed

I choose between beauty and wisdom

Whatever that I do…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I speak of happiness

I convey cynicism

I write about prejudice

I mimic insecurities of the world and I

Whatever that I impart…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I slash the tranquility of peace

I paralyze the greatness of valiance

I silence the whimpering of justice

I gag the shouts of confidence

Whatever that I execute…

is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

I heal the wounded ness of grace

I fill the emptiness of faith

I resurrect the crippled of honor

I pulsate nothing but myself

I … is my choice.

I am a dozen pens

My thoughts can be an enemy or a friend

My words can be a dagger or a rose

My actions can be a curse or a blessing

I … can hurt or heal.

A dozen pens… I am.

Potpourri

2007-11-13T01:15:00.000-08:00

Potpourri
he showed me beauty
painted more than seven colors
of the rainbow,
showered me not of chocolates,
flowers and precious stuff
but he gave me his life.

Hodgepodge
he sings me a medley
nobody knows when he’ll stop
hope he won’t because
his voice delights my senses
and when I close my eyes
his presence seems all over me.

Odds and ends
he tied my shoelace to the ground
thought I would not be able to run
but instead I flew to my dreams.
“To be or not to be?”
he asked with an irresistible charm.
I answered, “Stay beside me.”

Bits and bobs
everything is He…
a mixture of hues of amber,
bright velvety drops of mist,
a rush of crimson waves
touching my soles on the sand
as I rest my heart and life to thee…