Oh Didi Dreaming Fire and Wind
copyright by Yesu Ben (2012)
Forged by Fire (Amazon)
Oh Didi dreaming fire and wind,
Would you bring me there,
Teach me your night-waltz; dance with me
Tapping out loud in lunar sea,
God’s substance innocent and free
basking in the glare?
Convince the fire that eats the night,
Not to slay the dark,
And ask the wind, the cold it brings,
The breezes on raw holy wings,
The mournful anthem that it sings
Not to kill the spark.
Comes the water from the river,
Comes it from the deep
Oh scream at it that it may cease
Its gladness soaking calm and peace
That in regret and woe increase
When in your fear you weep.
Go fly so ever far away
‘til you hear the sky
Until you hear its bitter song
Remaining so devoid so long
And blasting wind and rain so strong,
That you may know why.
Lose your strength in thoughtless seeking,
Lose also your soul
And tolerance for what’s been told
As you’ve grown weary, you’ve grown old
To truths that don’t count and don’t hold,
Bits that make the whole.
Climb up now the high high mountain
Your God-seeking self
Conquer all of your illusions,
Free yourself from all delusion,
Face the sea cliff of deception
Kill your untrue self.
*Didi is sister in Sanskrit (Nun)
31 October 2019
TREES
🌳🌳🌳
By Estelle Cortes
I see you all almost everyday,
When I traverse along the road,
You waved to me
And whispered in the wind,
You gave me shade
During hot summertime,
And cooled my face
When it's too hot to run.
Then you fell down,
One by one.
The majestic Tree friends
I've known.
My heart bleed,
A part of my Soul died.
In my mind are words
"My Tree Friends are gone."
Goodbye dear friends,
I will miss your comforting shade
And the whispers of your leaves.
Mere words are not enough,
To honor you All,
Who, even in death continues to help.
~Estelle~
October 17, 2019
By Estelle Cortes
I see you all almost everyday,
When I traverse along the road,
You waved to me
And whispered in the wind,
You gave me shade
During hot summertime,
And cooled my face
When it's too hot to run.
Then you fell down,
One by one.
The majestic Tree friends
I've known.
My heart bleed,
A part of my Soul died.
In my mind are words
"My Tree Friends are gone."
Goodbye dear friends,
I will miss your comforting shade
And the whispers of your leaves.
Mere words are not enough,
To honor you All,
Who, even in death continues to help.
~Estelle~
October 17, 2019
29 October 2019
LEGACY
By Estelle Cortes
Light and darkness,
Beauty, like memory fades.
Be not ashamed,
Embrace the darkness
Even in the madness,
Grow like a seed,
When planted,
Will take root
Beneath the ground,
Then spring upwards
Reaching for the sun.
As it grows,
It benefits
What surrounds it,
Giving shade,
Providing fruits,
A shelter for the birds.
And when the time comes
It'll fall,
Even in death
Still as useful.
So I strive hard
To be like a tree,
In life
And in death
I will leave
A beautiful legacy.
~Estelle ~
March 10, 2019
Light and darkness,
Beauty, like memory fades.
Be not ashamed,
Embrace the darkness
Even in the madness,
Grow like a seed,
When planted,
Will take root
Beneath the ground,
Then spring upwards
Reaching for the sun.
As it grows,
It benefits
What surrounds it,
Giving shade,
Providing fruits,
A shelter for the birds.
And when the time comes
It'll fall,
Even in death
Still as useful.
So I strive hard
To be like a tree,
In life
And in death
I will leave
A beautiful legacy.
~Estelle ~
March 10, 2019
WHAT A PITY WE'RE ALMOST BLIND
By Michael A. Taylor
What a pity we're almost blind
For daily we pass minute jewels
Much finer than anything worn by queens
Way beyond the skills of humankind,
As if the products of the fairy world
Had somehow found their way into ours -
Such is their incredible design.
Though we know we should dawdle
We are poor at pausing
To smell the flowers while we still have time
To watch a butterfly crossing our path
Or bend to examine a dragonfly's wings.
Instead, we hurry and seem to accept
That we live with hollowed hearts.
Source: POEM FROM EXILE
What a pity we're almost blind
For daily we pass minute jewels
Much finer than anything worn by queens
Way beyond the skills of humankind,
As if the products of the fairy world
Had somehow found their way into ours -
Such is their incredible design.
Though we know we should dawdle
We are poor at pausing
To smell the flowers while we still have time
To watch a butterfly crossing our path
Or bend to examine a dragonfly's wings.
Instead, we hurry and seem to accept
That we live with hollowed hearts.
Source: POEM FROM EXILE
TO THE SLEEPING LADY
By Romeo Balingcongan
I wonder
If you have always been sleeping all these years?
Was there ever a time when you lay prone on your tummy
Your face held by both your hands propped against your chin
Watching the people of the lake
Do what they normally do each day
Housewives and other female household members
Washing clothes at the lakeshore or
Agus River or other outlets from the lake.
Farmers bringing vegetables, fruits,
Marang, durian, or whatever produce they had
Fishermen their catches for the day
Vendors selling their wares in Padian
Malongs and straw mats and blankets
Woven the traditional way
Buyers haggling for lower prices
Horse driven carts then
Jeepneys and motorcabs now
Plying their routes
Private vehicles going to wherever they're going to
At arranged weddings and aqeeqas?
Smiling perhaps at the little foibles of the people of the lake?
Were you sad
At the occasional Meranaw custom of vendetta
Rido, they call it, that disturbed
The normal flow of life for the families involved?
Did you cry
When wars plagued the land
Resisting invaders from foreign lands?
And did you shed tears
As you watched Marawi bombed
Reduced to rubbles
The chaotic din of everyday life
Silenced?
Are you mourning still
The lives that were lost
In that senseless war
And the souls that were scattered
To who knows where?
Do nightmares disturb you
Of terrible things yet to come
When, God forbid,
All the pent up rage are not contained
When blood shall be spilt and turn the land crimson?
Or, do you, with the wisdom born
Of thousands and thousands of years
Who lived long before the first settlers set their feet upon the land
See beyond our ken a brighter joyous day
When the People of the Tents
Come home and be once more the proud
People of the Lake?
Pray tell me, Sleeping Lady
For my soul is faint
My heart heavy.
Tell me please.
I wonder
If you have always been sleeping all these years?
Was there ever a time when you lay prone on your tummy
Your face held by both your hands propped against your chin
Watching the people of the lake
Do what they normally do each day
Housewives and other female household members
Washing clothes at the lakeshore or
Agus River or other outlets from the lake.
Farmers bringing vegetables, fruits,
Marang, durian, or whatever produce they had
Fishermen their catches for the day
Vendors selling their wares in Padian
Malongs and straw mats and blankets
Woven the traditional way
Buyers haggling for lower prices
Horse driven carts then
Jeepneys and motorcabs now
Plying their routes
Private vehicles going to wherever they're going to
At arranged weddings and aqeeqas?
Smiling perhaps at the little foibles of the people of the lake?
Were you sad
At the occasional Meranaw custom of vendetta
Rido, they call it, that disturbed
The normal flow of life for the families involved?
Did you cry
When wars plagued the land
Resisting invaders from foreign lands?
And did you shed tears
As you watched Marawi bombed
Reduced to rubbles
The chaotic din of everyday life
Silenced?
Are you mourning still
The lives that were lost
In that senseless war
And the souls that were scattered
To who knows where?
Do nightmares disturb you
Of terrible things yet to come
When, God forbid,
All the pent up rage are not contained
When blood shall be spilt and turn the land crimson?
Or, do you, with the wisdom born
Of thousands and thousands of years
Who lived long before the first settlers set their feet upon the land
See beyond our ken a brighter joyous day
When the People of the Tents
Come home and be once more the proud
People of the Lake?
Pray tell me, Sleeping Lady
For my soul is faint
My heart heavy.
Tell me please.
24 October 2019
THE WHITE SWANS
By John Jude Palencar
In a foreign country with unknown language
Sitting on the porch, watching, listening,
Letting people, events, experiences passing by
Some are nice, some hypocrite, crazy, harmful
Especially in these days I look at myself and ask:
How come that so so much I have not seen?
And what to do about wrong and harmful doings I know of?
I stumbled about a 'stone' - must I make it known to others?
I learn to accept for myself care and help
Knowing: everything less than respect is unacceptable
Healing, growing, understanding, speaking out
And I say to myself with gratitude and joy:
'You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Daring to hold hands with the Sacred One
I know I hear the music with such longing
But never learnt to dance as it was demanded
You have not danced ugly at all, my dear
A shy crushed child, a broken vessel
You have tangoed with great style
Your own style in your unique world
The child, the woman, faithful and true
You claimed to near God's heart even more
In following the call of our King of Love
You have indeed danced lovely, dear brave woman'
In a foreign country with unknown language
Sitting on the porch, watching, listening,
Letting people, events, experiences passing by
Some are nice, some hypocrite, crazy, harmful
Especially in these days I look at myself and ask:
How come that so so much I have not seen?
And what to do about wrong and harmful doings I know of?
I stumbled about a 'stone' - must I make it known to others?
I learn to accept for myself care and help
Knowing: everything less than respect is unacceptable
Healing, growing, understanding, speaking out
And I say to myself with gratitude and joy:
'You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Daring to hold hands with the Sacred One
I know I hear the music with such longing
But never learnt to dance as it was demanded
You have not danced ugly at all, my dear
A shy crushed child, a broken vessel
You have tangoed with great style
Your own style in your unique world
The child, the woman, faithful and true
You claimed to near God's heart even more
In following the call of our King of Love
You have indeed danced lovely, dear brave woman'
13 October 2019
BEYOND FORGETTING
by Rolando A. Carbonell
For a moment I thought I could forget you.
For a moment I thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart
I thought the past could no longer
haunt me – nor hurt me.
How wrong I was!
For the past,
no matter how distant,
is as much a part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life.
You are so much a part of me — of my dreams,
my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions –
that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.
Many little delights and things remind me of you.
Yes, I came.
And would my pride mock my real feelings?
Would the love song,
the sweet and lovely smile on your face,
be lost among the deepening shadows?
I have wanted to be alone.
I thought I could make myself forget you
In silence and in song…
And yet I remembered.
For who could forget the memory
of the once lovely, the once beautiful,
the once happy world such as ours?
I came because the song that I kept
through the years is waiting to be sung.
I cannot sing it without you.
The song when sung alone will lose
the essence of its tune,
because you and I had been one.
I have wanted this misery to end,
because it is part of my restlessness.
Can’t you understand?
Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness
of my feelings towards you?
Yes, can’t you see how I suffer
in this even darkness without you?
You went away because
you mistook my silence for indifference.
But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.
How could I essay the intensity of my love
when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?
But perhaps, you didn’t understand…
Remember, I came,
because the gnawing loneliness is there
and will be lost until the music is sung,
until the poem is heard,
until the silence is understood…
until you come to me again.
For you alone
can blend music and memory
into one consuming ecstasy.
You alone…
For a moment I thought I could forget you.
For a moment I thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart
I thought the past could no longer
haunt me – nor hurt me.
How wrong I was!
For the past,
no matter how distant,
is as much a part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life.
You are so much a part of me — of my dreams,
my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions –
that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.
Many little delights and things remind me of you.
Yes, I came.
And would my pride mock my real feelings?
Would the love song,
the sweet and lovely smile on your face,
be lost among the deepening shadows?
I have wanted to be alone.
I thought I could make myself forget you
In silence and in song…
And yet I remembered.
For who could forget the memory
of the once lovely, the once beautiful,
the once happy world such as ours?
I came because the song that I kept
through the years is waiting to be sung.
I cannot sing it without you.
The song when sung alone will lose
the essence of its tune,
because you and I had been one.
I have wanted this misery to end,
because it is part of my restlessness.
Can’t you understand?
Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness
of my feelings towards you?
Yes, can’t you see how I suffer
in this even darkness without you?
You went away because
you mistook my silence for indifference.
But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.
How could I essay the intensity of my love
when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?
But perhaps, you didn’t understand…
Remember, I came,
because the gnawing loneliness is there
and will be lost until the music is sung,
until the poem is heard,
until the silence is understood…
until you come to me again.
For you alone
can blend music and memory
into one consuming ecstasy.
You alone…
YOUR MIND - YOUR SOIL
It’s all about the mind, my dear -
That’s where suffering takes root
And that’s where pain is born
And that’s also where salvation blooms.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where the seeds of suffering were sown
And unknown to you, though it’s your mind
That’s where the suffering has slowly grown.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where your pain was watered and fed.
You had no idea how it kept growing
And how you even took it to bed.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
That’s where you can grow joy and bliss;
You have a toolbox filled with things
That can help you easily accomplish this.
Learn to tend your mind with loving care
Like a gardener tends his garden -
You need to become its gardener and
You need to become its vigilant warden.
Your mind is a fertile land with soil
That can give a harvest of abundant grain;
Why then do you settle for suffering,
Why do you drown yourself in pain?
~ Raj Yogi
That’s where suffering takes root
And that’s where pain is born
And that’s also where salvation blooms.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where the seeds of suffering were sown
And unknown to you, though it’s your mind
That’s where the suffering has slowly grown.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where your pain was watered and fed.
You had no idea how it kept growing
And how you even took it to bed.
It’s all about the mind, dear one -
That’s where you can grow joy and bliss;
You have a toolbox filled with things
That can help you easily accomplish this.
Learn to tend your mind with loving care
Like a gardener tends his garden -
You need to become its gardener and
You need to become its vigilant warden.
Your mind is a fertile land with soil
That can give a harvest of abundant grain;
Why then do you settle for suffering,
Why do you drown yourself in pain?
~ Raj Yogi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
