A STATELY GHOST

Mythical Creatures

Concept by Jhake Morales 

A STATELY GHOST

(Multo)

It was an exceptional day

The atmosphere was surreal

The once lively little town turned eerie

And the man on the pedal started to get fidgety.

Beads of cold sweat dripped down his face

Crippled by angst, fears and worries

Hopes and expectations were crushed in vain

At home, little hungry mouths awaited his means.

It's getting close to noonday

His pocket was still empty,

There's no passenger in sight 

Then he saw a flicker of light.

Donned in her modest dark apparel

With long haired-head covered by a black veil,

A stately fair lady appeared.

She asked for a ride to a place unravelled.

It was a long winding road trip to infinity

Soon they arrived at this unpopulated spectral city

The lady broke her silence at last

In deep grave voice she asked the man to stop.

She paid the driver a handsome sum

He felt her cold hands, not one for a glam

He saw nothing around but a putrid swamp

The lady disappeared and the man went cramped.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

November 1, 2021

#Mythical Creatures

Contest Concept by Jhake Morales

Photo credit to Shutterstock by Lario Tus

CERTIFICATES

 

HORIZON BEYOND

HORIZON BEYOND

You look empty on the outset;

Yet your face is full of promise. 

Is my vision become elusive? 

Or is it my illusion that's been deceived? 

My eyes stare at your distance 

You're nautical miles away from me 

My dreaming starts to fade away; 

Ere morning breaks, my hope too slips away. 

On that far horizon I built my heart 

With longings as deep as the ocean;

Filling the void that I've endured 

What more of life shall I live without prejudices? 

©Leah C. Dancel

with ©DreamWeaver

Copyright©October 12, 2021 

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

COMES THE DAWN

Sent by Estelle Cortes 

By Veronica A. Shofstall 

THE BREAKING By George Daniel Anos

Repost 

October 31, 2019

Poignant ...from my prolific writer-teacher-author-farmer Friend Forever George Daniel Anos 

You poke my heart!!!

Photo and text credited to that guy mentioned above.

THE BREAKING

By George Daniel Anos

The roses fell from her hands that night. And on the whole of that day there, it lay, shriveling under the onslaught of the sun, cringing from the exhaust of passing cars, withering from the assault of the pavement’s heat.

He picked it up before meeting her, for the path that leads to where they meet, is also the path to follow before separation at the crossroads.

“Why’d you left it on the ground when it fell?” he asked her, visibly hurt.

“Maybe I just want you to pick it up and give it back” she answered.

“What if instead of giving it back to you I decide to give it to someone else?”

“I know there’s a chance of that happening. You see, I already took off all the thorns. That way, she won’t get hurt the way I did.”

She smiled.

He was broken. 💔

NOT TAKEN

NOT TAKEN

By David Whyte 

…But you never turned to cross,
and you never found a bridge,
and you never took that other way,
and you stayed on this path to the end,
recalling the other way you did not take
as you would a close and loving friend
who had left you not to leave you but simply
to go on with their life, so that you carried
their memory through the years that passed
as you would a beautiful and worthwhile burden,
growing with them as they grew,
walking with them as they walked,
until one day it was just as if that someone
you had come to love at a distance,
and that someone who had walked with you
always on the other side of the stream,
had passed away, but in your mind you were
still speaking to them and still walking with them
and still carrying them onward, but now
just a short way to a place you would lay them down,
under the trees, and in a way in which memory
and every day presence stop living in separate worlds,
and the calm, death-still image of every disappearance,
renews itself in some extraordinary beginning again,
and you realize, sitting by their side, saying goodbye,
that you took no separate path at all,
neither this nor that, neither the one you loved
nor the one you did not want, that you had after all,
always held them generously together
by not choosing this side of existence or the other.
You were in the end,
never just looking on,
but always the river moving between
and the song of the water,
holding the flowing of ways together.
Excerpt from “NOT TAKEN”
From Pilgrim: Poems by David Whyte: (Special Edition)
©2013 David Whyte
Photo © David Whyte July 2011
The Path to Ullswater. Cumbria.

School at Home and Family Bonding

A Winning Piece GOLD

School at Home and Family Bonding 

By Leah C. Dancel 

           

I'm too young to know the ways of the world 

But I understand things that were explained 

To us at school; though I am not that old.

Will I finish my school? Was my concern. 

Things were very hard in the beginning. 

Rules were getting stricter, but we followed. 

More of don'ts than do's were part of learning. 

New things sounded strange that we had to do.

Like washing our hands with soap and water 

After we touched whatever things at school; 

To social distancing when we gather

To wearing mask and use of alcohol.

 

Pandemic happened and lock down began. 

A prisoner at home, I've been confined. 

School continues, online work must be done.

I get myself organised; I've been fine. 

The good thing about this whole covid lockdown ... 

I got time bonding with my family.

I help Mum with household chores and have fun 

With my brother doing artwork and play.

(NB. A very interesting chat on the phone with my 11 year old granddaughter eventuated the other day. Her hidden fear is more outlined whether she will finish her Year 6 and experience a Graduation Rite of Passage before moving on to high school next year as she and her classmates and friends were missing out a lot this year due to covid through pandemic lockdowns. She has spoken more and even touched about Mental Health. She has just returned to the classroom and it's only a matter of four weeks she will finish her Primary or Elementary School education level.) 

Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

October 30, 2021

#Children'sVoice

Ellen Retoma Prompt

PASSING MIST

Repost 

October 18-21, 2020

The Echo Point which is home to popular Three Sisters Folklore at  Katoomba in The Blue Mountains is one of my often frequented tourists spot. There I noticed a few sandstone pillars dedicated to famous Australian locals who made it known through the publication of their poetry. 

Even the poets are allured to the mesmerising mystical beauty of the mountains. Nothing has escaped their flowing thoughts, working minds and inkful pens. Denis Kevans  is given honour from his work The Passing Mist.

PASSING MIST

Denis Kevans 

Parched orchids smile to the passing mist,

Mist that’s the memory of a vanished ocean,

Mist that’s tears that have often fallen,

Gleaming on the rock.

Gleaming on the rock

That is the face you cannot remember.

Who is walking in the mist with their sandals in their hand?

Who is crouching to see the orchid smile?

Who pauses to hear the bracelet of notes

Thrown by the harmonica bird at the covered sun?

Whose voices are under the waterfall?

Whose voices are muffled by the mist?

Whose voices drift with the white mist

Passing, like the ghosts of ocean waves?

Source: Blue Mountains Nature - Culture and Literature

Date: October 18-21,  2020

TIME AND SPACE

TIME AND SPACE

By Don Luman-ag 

In this celestial plane where we exist

We are inseparable from time and space

All levels of existence and consciousness 

In this continuum we cannot  regress

Let us forget about the time machine

Things of the past and all that have been

We advance and flow into this progression

In our every action expect repercussion

All kinds of growth require some time

Whether it is a tree or just a blob of slime

Every person needs some breathing space

We have to respect others' personal space

Be aware that lack of space can suffocate

Even the sweetest couples or relationships 

Each needs some time to be away from it all

Without time and space everything will fall

We need time to contemplate and reflect

On the deep significance of time and space 

Even words without the spaces in between

Are simply letters that do not make sense 

© Don M. Luman-ag

WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS

POP - Certificate of Appreciation

North Bondi

October 22, 2022

WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS

I no longer live in dreams.

My dreams drifted in the torrent of despair;

Vanished into the mist of frustration;

Thickly condensed in the foam of irreconciliation. 

I no longer sleep with dreams. 

They turned into pillows of nightmares;

Easing in the tide of pointless struggles 

While clinging onto the rays of consolation. 

I simply give up looming dreams;

Surrendering them all to His will above.

What day may come, the night might hold; 

The answer to my prayers, suppressed. 

The dawn of fears raised, as the rising sun lifts;

A streak of feathered ambience hoisted adrift;

The conclusive Will of that majestic power.

It is He, who designed my soul 

For what the future holds. 

©Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

October 23, 2021

(Revised from the original manuscript

Copyright@February 19, 2006, 

QH-Australia) 

Timeless Piece Poetry 

Comment 

"Beautiful composition of your talent you are so good maybe an author of  a book will be your dream vision." ~Elena Zaragosa Escubio 

Tagalog Translation by Romeo C. Morales Jr aka Jhake Morales 

Tangán Ng Kapalaran

Hindi na ako nabubuhay sa panaginip

Inanod na ang pangarap ng kawalan ng pag-asa sa'king pag-iisip;

Naglaho sa ambon ng mga pagkabigo;

makapal ang ulap tulad ng aking siphayo

Hindi na ako natutulog sa panaginip.

Sila'y mistulang unan ng bangungot sa isip

sumasabay nalamang sa agos ng walang kabuluhang pakikibaka

Habang nakakapit sa sinag ng pag-asa .

Isinusuko ko na lang ang nagbabadyang mga pangarap;

sinuko silang lahat sa  kalooban ng nasa itaas.

kung ano man ang dala ng umaga at hatid ng gabing paparating na

sabay nito ang sagot sa aking mga panalanging natagpuan sa kanya. 

Ang bukang-liwayway ng mga takot ay sumusikat, habang ang pagdungaw ng araw ay umaangat;

isang balahibo ng gunita ang lumutang sa pagkatanto;

na kalooban ng ama'y dakilang totoo 

maging aking kaluluwa'y kanyang dinisenyo

hinaharap ko'y obra ng dakilang arkitekto.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

October 25, 2021

(Collaborative Translation

NATURE GIRL

By Grandma

October 23, 2021

Photos by JPC

NATURE GIRL

The nature girl 

who loves outdoors; 

satisfying her curiosity 

on her own,

as she explores

the wonder of her surrounds. 

In denim and pink 

she goes to find 

what's in the beauty 

that envelopes 

in those red clusters 

of thick Azaleas -

Hiding in that bushy 

shrubs of green foliage; 

matching her own outfit.

She reaches out her little arms,

left and right, until she picks one 

and examines its secret. 

Zana the nature girl 

is a curious little soul;

perhaps full of wonderings  

for everything she sees 

that her eyes set on and 

what  could be on her mind 

she's thinking and in her heart feeling.

I, too, wonder:

 Has she got questions 

that need answers only 

in the beauty of those red flowers

she can find? 

If only butterflies are around, 

maybe the'll guide her 

to the nectar they sip 

in reward to the pollens

they seeded to make more colours 

of the rainbow in the garden she goes. 

If only she hears the bees buzzing

as if whispering in her ears,   

"come over and see us work",

then you'll find 

how Mummy's garden grows. 

Fruits are flowers we do. 

©Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

October 24, 2021

Family and Nature Poetry 

Photo supplied by JP Chan 

Zana is your reflection,  I can see it. Zana has my nose lol but her natural personality is amazing and I'm proud of her. JPC

MY SHADOW

By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, 

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. 

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; 

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow— 

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; 

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, 

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all. 

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, 

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see; 

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; 

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, 

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Photo: Credit to BING

A CROWN ON MY HEAD

A dedicatory poem to Nanay

 

The Song of Wandering Aengus

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Photo credit to FB

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS

By Don Luman-ag

I'm glad I didn't give up.

FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS 

By Don Luman-ag

Follow your dreams 

To your heart be true

Though the path maybe weary

And the skies aren't blue

Just keep going on

When hope's not in sight

And there's no one around

To lend you a hand 

In the darkest of night

Look up to the stars

See them shine brightly

To light up your way

Never give up

Just follow your heart

Whenever you stumble

Just rise from the fall 

Follow your dreams

Have faith in your heart

Make use of your talents 

Believe in your strengths

Don't ever give up

In your heart be brave

When you seize opportunities 

Your stars you shall reach

Comment 

"Follow Your Dreams by Don Luman-ag is truly a compelling write aim to inspire others even in their most difficult and hopeless situation in life. Be the beacon of light Don!"  ~ Leah C. Dancel 

TO THOSE WHO LIVE ALONE

By David Whyte

 

Sydney Royal Botamical Garden

On my solitary sojourn

Decemher 25, 2016

TO THOSE WHO LIVE ALONE 

By David Whyte

It happens to those

who live alone

that they feel sure

of visitors

when no one else is there.

Until the one day

and the one particular hour

working in the

quiet garden,

when they realize

at once

that all along

they have been

an invitation

to everything

and every kind of trouble

and that life happens by

to those who inhabit silence

like the bees visiting

the tall mallow

on their legs of gold,

or the wasps

going from door to door

in the tall forest

of the daisies.

I have my freedom today

because nothing

really happened

and nobody came to see me,

only the slow

growing of the garden

in the summer heat

and the silence of that

unborn life

making itself known at my desk,

my hands still dark

with the crumbling soil

as I write

and watch

the first lines

of a new poem

like flowers

of scarlet fire

coming to fullness

in a clear light.

...

‘It Happens to Those Who Live Alone’

From The House of Belonging

© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

Garden Doors

Photo © David Whyte

Whidbey  Island 2015

In Search of the ADARNA

By Yesu Ben

October 23, 2021
 

i caressed a very beautiful bird back to life. 

In Search of the ADARNA

YB

We have in countless enquiries, through endless years and days,

had trekked t’wards what seems to be a land so far away,

such wisdom seemingly a myth, a tale or mystery,

our folklore’s hooded seekers and men of curiosity… 

Who, on their fledgling step through urban asphalt, their ears heard

 the muted secret weeping and songs of a stately bird,

whose mermerizing sound has kept their minds so deeply bent,

thus into forests dark to search, is where the seekers went.

Such fascination brought them quick to much uncertainty,

their lives becoming spent in books and universities,

for many years and months and days and many many weeks

for in their faith, “the Light of truth will shine on him who seeks”.

The light meant for a seeker true, the perfect love it brings,

the splendid song that only one resplendent bird can sing. 

The pow’r from its songs when sang so beautifully and round

can bring the confused  soul and mind contentment with its sound.

And in a forest dark they stood enraptured for some hours,

enthralled and mesmerized by the songbird’s beguiling  pow’r…

and in that vision, they were brought to grounds of profound peace

where pain and sorrow, life’s torments and  agonies had ceased.

But murmurs and enticements of the world did rouse them up,

the vision van’shing swiftly leaving them like empty cups…

and recollecting so that their goal and mission wasn’t peace

nor was it freedom, nor from  agonies and pain, release.

One of the men, did eye a golden nest upon a tree..

Beside it, Lo! the great Adarna, did they chance to see.

And slinking quickly, shot a dart to make it sleep and fall

into a cage for love’s become too much beyond recall.  

And overjoyed, wine were uncorked and alcohol was poured..

congratulating him, his team, for this great work, they soared.

With a dissecting  knife, into its heart, pierced their own souls

for they have become sages – to dissect’s become their goal. 

The great resplendent bird would sing its gentle songs no more

and these great men who confined it,  these men that all adored,

Could not track down the secret leading all from strife and pain,

for their great wealth and struggle– they’d still be bereft of gain.

For t’was in list’ning to its songs that lost lives are made whole -

but to these men of great pretense – research was vital goal,

for life is quickly lost, within a span, so too with birds,

for gentle creatures  hold the key…  to Life’s unspoken word.

To sages of this modern age, what have we learned from this?

How’s it that in our vanity, the secret’s often missed?

The rhythm sings to us, the rhyme, the poetry compels

and yet we prefer noise and din, thus we can’t break the spell.

Too many mornings turned to heat, the golden chance has gone,

the truth has flown, love’s come too late, to discern what’s been done.

OUTLANDISH LANDSCAPE

By Leah C. Dancel

OUTLANDISH LANDSCAPE

Words beneath the inner sheaths

Of leaves that sparkle with the dew;

In dawntime spring of love divine,

Unforsaken by moment's breath.

Some are spoken in silent dreams;

Unsaid, unexpressed, untold.

There hanging in the bridge of sigh,

Wishing strong winds will unleash them.

While it's true some words are best left unsaid.

Where do we stand then between the breadth

Of hopes; will we let our dreams melt away

In the stagnant poetic lines of fears and tears?

Words are cheap, but subtle action smears

The outlandish landscape to which our friendship bear;

Then for how long will this riddle last?

Let your answer redeem my angst.

Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2018

All rights reserved

Australia

Photo: Mayfield Gardens

Oberon, NSW

15 September 2018

Comment from Don Luman-ag 

Your poems are so enticing and so satisfying to read. They're the kind that instantly catch my attention in just one glance.. so rich and immersive. They always leave me gasping in great awe!

ENJOY LIFE

I did not write this 

but WOW does it

speak to my heart!!! 

So Worth the read. ❤

"Barely the day started and

it's already six in the evening.

Barely arrived on Monday

and it's already Friday.

.. and the month is already over.

.. and the year is almost over.

.. and already 40, 50 or 60 years

of our lives have passed. 

.. and we realize that we lost

our parents, friends.

.. and we realize it's too late

to go back.

So.. Let's try, despite

everything, to enjoy

the remaining time.

Let's keep looking for

activities that we like.

Let's put some color in

our grey.

Let's smile at the little

things in life that put 

balm in our hearts.

And despite everything,

we must continue to enjoy

with serenity this time we

have left. 

Let's try to eliminate the

afters..

I'm doing it after.

I'll say after.

I'll think about it after.

We leave everything for

later like ′′ after ′′ is ours.

Because what we don't

understand is that:

Afterwards, the coffee

gets cold.

afterwards, priorities change.

Afterwards, the charm is

broken.

Afterwards, health passes.

Afterwards, the kids grow up.

Afterwards parents get old.

Afterwards, promises are

forgotten.

Afterwards, the day becomes

the night.

Afterwards, life ends.

And then it's often too late.

So.. Let's leave nothing for

later.

Because still waiting to see

later, we can lose the

best moments, the best

experiences, best friends,

the best family.

The day is today. The

moment is now.

We are no longer at the

age where we can afford

to postpone what needs

to be done right away."

It Looks Like An Eternity,

But It's A Short Trip,

Enjoy Life And Always

Be Kind. 

S * W * A * N

By Lily Dancel

Please allow me to share my daughter's muses... She wrote this when she was in Year 10 - (Fourth Year High School) 

S * W * A * N

A graceful lady in a silken white gown,

gliding along the liquid river of glass.

She elegantly lifts her head

to reveal a shimmering satin scarf

gracefully twirled about

her long beautiful neck.

Many stand gazing on her beauty

as she graces the molten mirror

beneath her feet with a sliding,

graceful dance.

She finishes her performance

with a gentle wave from her white long gloves

and as the many onlookers wave cheer,

She raises her long white arms

and skims her black leather shoes along

until taking off and flies into the sunset.

~Lily Dancel

Year 10 English School Work

Riverstone High School 

2004

Photo by Google

SOLITUDE IS FREEDOM

Certificate of Appreciation 

Posted: The Passion of Poetry 

October 20, 2021

By Leah C. Dancel

SOLITUDE IS FREEDOM

(Australian Country Life)

I am sick. 

I miss my freedom. 

Freedom to enjoy myself in the open space. 

Freedom to travel anywhere and see places. 

Freedom to visit parks and gardens.

Freedom to breathe in the salty air of the ocean and the sea.

Freedom to walk along the beach on my bare feet. 

Freedom to feel the warmth of the sunrise to a full blown sunshine. 

Freedom to wander off 

in the vast wilderness and get lost to experience life of a rambler.

To explore the secrets of the mountains;

Go for a careless adventure 

of what's in the forest 

and beyond the caves of wonders, 

where nature hides its precious jewels. 

I miss watching the stars and the moon

in the desert,

and listening to the eerie hoots at the outback. 

I miss the joy of hiking the trail. 

I miss the bubbling sound of the brooks calling,

the languid demeanour of the lake,

the silent way of the rivers 

and the mystery of the spring. 

I miss spying the oarsmen 

paddling their boats and kayaks -

who are carefree and happy.

I miss the barren countryside -

dusty and rusty in summer,

green and lush on rainy days,

colour bright in autumn, 

wonderland at winter 

and flower-scented at springtime. 

A well-spent season all year round. 

I miss the hissing waves of grasses 

in the wild, 

the drooping curtains of heavy branches and twigs of the weeping willows by the creeks, 

the tall poplars and the pines -

laden with thickets of leaves 

all colours of life. 

I miss the skipping thuds of the wallabies and kangaroos 

frolicking in the rocky hills

chilling in their never ending  nibbling state, 

staring in curiosity  

each time I dare to get near them.  

They pause as they watch me -

unmindful of my business 

and just hop away. 

I miss the chirpy sounds of the birds 

that come and go,  

flocking in backyard trees

flitting around the branches.

I miss the twilight's glow and the sunset.

I want my freedom back. 

I hate the pesky new normal. 

Who brought  this mess upon us?

©Leah C Dancel, 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

October 18, 2021

(Revised from original manuscript) 

NARRATIVE POETRY

Written on April 17, 2020 

The Year of the Rabid World Wide Ban

Photos: Mallacoota VICTORIA 

February 2020

Comments from Passion of Poetry 

"My spirit will be with you forever Mamang. My love is Eternal🙏🙏🙏💖. Do not be sad i am always here for you."

~Napoleon Torres III, October 20, 2021

SILENT HILLS

(A Prayer)

Let me do my work each day;

and if the darkened hours

of despair overcome me, 

may I not forget the strength

that comforted me 

in the desolation of other times.

May I still remember the bright hours 

that found me walking over the silent hills 

of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin 

of a quiet river, when a light glowed within me,

promise me my God to have courage 

amid the tempests of the changing years.

Spare me from bitterness 

and from the sharp passions 

of
 unguarded moments. 

May I not forget 

that poverty and riches are of the spirit. 

Though the world knows me not,

may my thoughts and actions be such as 

shall keep me friendly with myself.

Lift up my eyes from the earth, 

and let me not forget the uses of the stars.

Forbid that I should judge others

lest I condemn myself.

Let me not follow the clamor of the world, 

but walk calmly in my path.

Give me a few friends

who will love me for what I am; 

and keep ever burning

before my vagrant steps

the kindly light of hope.

And though age and infirmity overtake me, 

and I come not within sight of the castle 

of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful
 for life, 

and for time's olden
 memories 

that are good and sweet; and may 

the evening's
 twilight find me gentle still.

~Author Anon~

Photo: East Beach, Kiama

September 25, 2018

RIVER RUNS

By Helen Sarita

So many delightful thoughts like a stream on a rainy day so fast to its flow 

From the rocky mountains dripping down crossing to many roads, it went through 

But still, for more, I am willing to sail with its flow to learn and grow 

And to where like a river patiently runs to where I was destined to

Searching for wisdom to embed upon my mundane heart

Seeking for the luminous light to sufficed mine darkest part

Yet one day, I believe my heart will roar its mighty thunder

To your hearts, let me dwell and speak out my heart's most fantastic share

Dreaming of touching everyone's most incredible depth and brings life to many lives

To be heard by the world's numbness and senseless sighs.

Helen Sarita

October 16, 2021

SILVER LINING

By Lynn Garcia

Photo: Echo Point 

Katoomba NSW

November 2018

Life is too short for one to waste

Recompose yourself, be in a haste

While the sun still shines in the east

Strive hard to be at your best.

Don't just sit in the wild feeling defeated

Like a hopeless beggar so frustrated

Show to the world you're alive and vibrant

Still capable of achieving what you want.

Whatever tortures your mind forget it!

Face things squarely, you'll never regret

Bear in mind everything happens for a reason

For sure, you'll get out of it soon.

Look around, things are beautiful, inspiring

From the distance, bright horizon is waving

Great opportunity seems to be promising

Remember, every cloud has a silver lining.

All Rights Reserved

@Lynn Valaquio-Garcia

Iloilo City

Oct. 14, 2021

A STRANGER

By Lang Leav 

"One day you meet 

someone and for some

inexplicable reason, you

feel more connected to 

this stranger than anyone

else--closer to them than

 your closest family. 

Perhaps this person 

carries within them an

angel--one sent to you for

some higher purpose; to

teach you an important

lesson or to keep you safe

during a perilous time.

What you must do is trust

in them--even if they come

hand in hand with pain or

suffering--the reason for

 their presence will become

 clear in due time.

Though here is a word of

warning--you may grow to

 love this person but

 remember they are not

 yours to keep. Their

 purpose isn't to save you

 but to show you how to 

save yourself. And once 

this is fulfilled; the halo

 lifts and the angel leaves

 their body as the person

 exits your life. They will 

be a stranger to you once more."

- Lang Leav,

Love & Misadventure

HITHER, THITHER

By Leah C. Dancel

 HITHER,  THITHER

I lag behind my past -

Never to return I swear;

Charred mem'ries that went so fast; 

Moving on I shedded tears. 

I step forward one foot -

An inch t'wards my destiny. 

I bag my loads in just one tote 

And fold away acrimony. 

Through the time I journey on -

Years and months and weeks and days; 

Every second matters,

Every minute thither. 

I lag behind my past -

No course to paddle fast;

I step forward two feet 

Hither, thither - we meet. 

©Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

October 15, 2021

Relationship Poetry

 

One Small Beauty

Poetry by: Rado Gatchalian

Photography by: Liana Meyer

(Taken at Cagayan de Oro, Philippines)

There’s a song in the morning

Where every leaf is a prayer

And blades of grass, like a sacred hymn.

Heaven speaks only of beauty

Behold the mountains that move and love,

And the earth that knows no name except grace.

Oh, I feel the air yet a gentle wind

Pushes me to eternity, to eternity,

A beautiful thing becomes a masterpiece.

And when I look at every form of clouds

I wonder I see my love looking at me,

But then I wait, I wait, 

And I hear that song in the morning —

Reminds me that everything

Shares the same light, same light,

My love, and I, and everyone

Are all small pieces of grand universe.

So, when I thought I saw my love looking at me —

It was actually me: as my dear and I,

And the earth and the sky,

And the mountains and clouds,

And the trees and the birds,

Are all but One,

One Small Beauty.

#poetography

LIGHTHOUSE

By Rebecca Tarog Adjie Canon 

October 14, 2021

Lighthouse guides especially the fishermen

It saves lives during stormy and wavy weather

Its light shows how and where to be secured

Lighthouse is same as GOD's words that SAVES"

SONG OF MELODY

By Elmer Buduan Gamulo

I sing a song of melody

A tune of joy and euphony.

My guitar is with symmetry

That I may paint joy in your face

And touch your soul with so much grace.

I hit the notes, soft and lovely

As I play the song so lively.

The message in its ardent flame,

I sing a song of melody.

I am an artist, yet lonely

But my soul is full of beauty.

Hold my arms and feel my embrace

As my song descends in the space.

Forbear of love in reverie,

I sing a song of melody.

© Elmer Buduan Gamulo

This is a Rondeau form, a French poetry.

NATURE'S ROMANCE

By Leah C. Dancel

NATURE'S ROMANCE

I found romance everywhere:

In the land where I live,

On the wayside that I tread,

From the view where I stand.

I see romance in lovers;

dwelling on mountain cabins, 

in cottages by the hills,

in chalets on the plains,

on tree houses in the forests, 

in dingy huts by the swamps 

and cool springs.

Romance is felt in the air, 

Fanned by the breeze 

Blown by the echoing winds. 

Spilt by lightning and thunder

It's there...

Flirting with clouds and rain.

Romance happens on the shore to the sea;

To the foaming ocean that spews its surge through rocky blowholes.

High waves breaking the walls

Of the cliffs and boulders along the harbourside.

Romance has wings 

It flies in the sky, 

where birds set a domain. 

Even on cloudless nights. 

It aligns with the universe;

Swirling in the orbit at range. 

I hear its sounds in the river

flowing down a winding trail.

I feel its ebb in lakes and creeks

streaming silently 

To the path of its own destiny.

Romance has voices; heard 

in descending cascades from the waterfalls,

Strong and powerful roars,

as they drop into the blue basin deep.

Quietly the water flows along 

the rocky shallow waterways;

Beside the grassy, bumpy tracks and trails.

The spring water is silent in a forgotten habitat,

Cool and refreshing to a thirsty passersby;

It behooves a lagoon hidden from strangers

Prying its tranquility with intense scrutiny.

Romance rests there. 

The mountains have doors to its majestic place;

Caves of wonders, deities to men.

Sculpted by nature, awesome treasures lay;

Unearthed by ancients too sacred to bare.

Romance is there. 

Creeping tunes of creatures in colourful  skins;

In countless species, no man can tell.

By hooves and wings, by antlers and horns;

By feathers in flock and furs in herd.

Theirs is a symphony of romance.

By strength and repugnant habits;

By beauty and grace;

By their songs of praise;

By the story of their existence;

A creation harmonised by romance. 

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2018

All rights reserved

October 24, 2018

Australia

(Edited version October 10, 2021)

Gallery 

Japanese Garden 

Cowra NSW

Koi Pond 

Original 

NATURE'S WONDER

I found romance everywhere:

In the land where I live,

On the path that I tread

And the view where I stand.

In the mountains, hills and plains;

In the forests, swamps and dams;

On the trees, shrubs and ground-covers.

It is seen in the plants and cheery flowers.

I feel it in the breeze of the air and echoing winds;

Even in lightning and thunder

It is there, flirting with the rain and storm.

I watch it from the shore to the sea;

To the foaming ocean that breaks the walls

Of the cliffs and boulders of the ravines.

In the sky where birds fly

In the clouds that roll by 

Even on cloudless day.

I hear its sound in the river, flowing 

Steadily down the path of its own destiny.

In the mountain lakes and creeks

streaming down a winding trail.

In descending cascades of the waterfalls,

Strong and powerful like thunder that roars

As they drop into the blue basin deep.

The waters flow along 

the rocky shallow waterways

Beside the grassy, bumpy tracks and trails.

The spring water is silent in a forgotten habitat,

Cool and refreshing to a thirsty passerby;

It behooves a lagoon hidden from strangers

Prying its tranquility with intense scrutiny.

The mountains have doors to its majestic place,

Caves of wonders, deities to men.

Sculpted by nature, awesome treasures lay;

Unearthed by ancients and sacred to bare.

Creeping tunes of creatures in colourful hues

In countless species, no man can tell.

By hooves and wings, by antlers and horns;

By feathers in flock and furs in herd;

By strength and repugnant habits;

By beauty and grace;

By their songs of praise;

By the stories of their existence;

They are all created with purpose 

That humans will live.

Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2018

All rights reserved

October 24, 2018

Australia

Photo: Credit to Your Sydney Guide

Comment from NT3

What a wonderful sight to see a lovely bird up a tree. 

My eyes behold it but my heart adores it. Sight that i will not forget. 

In my dreams it blessed me  with Loveleness that cures my Eternal Grief. Thank you for the lovely picture my friend. 

I will Treasure it in my Dream.

💐💐💐

Me: That is Cocky as Ozzie named this noisy creatute. A Sulphur-crested Cockatoo. They're everywhere even in the busy hub of the city.

NT3

Yes. In Visaya Ilonggo just PEKOY a talkative bird just like me but adorable than me my Friend. Anyway birds are beautiful creatures and me is just an Ogre in comparrison. No regret.

YOU MATTER TOO

By Estelle Cortes

If I could interest you,

Perchance take a bit of your time,

Could you, maybe pause 

from your busy life, 

And come sit here with me?

I have no wish to burden you,

With my worries, fears and sorrows,

I just want you know

You matter too.

Let's forget for a while,

The madness that has touched the world,

As though every spine have bent,

And every heart has broke.

Let's forget this plague

That's robbing us of our sleep,

Let's forget the opportunities lost,

Let's mourn lives lost until later.

For now tell me

 of your hopes and plans,

Do you still dare to dream,

Do you still want to go on?

Let me tell you

YOU matter too,

There is life beyond this pain and loss,

There is laughter to be found

Amidst the tears.

Come here and sit with me,

Let's wait until nightfall  to gaze at the stars,

Light bonfires, 

Laugh until we cry.

Please let me interest you,

Sit with me by the fire,

I want you to know you matter, 

And I hope I matter to you too.

~Estelle~

10082021

1008H

MY BOOK OF LIFE

By Leah C. Dancel 

MY BOOK OF LIFE

Here's the book of my life
That tells the story of my being
From the pangs of birth
When I was brought
Into this world to witness
Chaos, wars, and tribulations
Of all kinds.
There were times of peace
And abundance too
Peace that created happiness
And abundance
That brought contentment
As we're happy enough
Whatever we could have had.
As to provisions,
There was no lacking
For wherever we lived
As nomads would do,
There's always fresh food
We put on the table
Straight from the harvest
Of our Mother's endless toils.
Day and night
She's out there
Cultivating and planting
In every space her eyes
Set on a piece of land
That was not even ours.
Yet, we were free to use
So we could live with dignity
To the present day.
To where I am,
Old at seventy
And passing through
All calamities of shame
And humility in life
With pride being hurled
Into the sea of sadness
By people turned traitors;
As stories wouldn't be
Without enemies, foes
And villains in the form
Of smiling faces
That wear make-up
Too heavy to conceal
Their envy and jealousy
Of what I never have:
A mystery that still
Baffles me.
Dusting off the powder
Of disgust, oftentimes
Disappointment and
Resentment from every blow.
Firmly, my lowly being
Stand still silently in pain
But triumphantly win
Them all in silence
By turning away
From all nagging hurts
As I draw the curtains down,
Leaving the past behind me.
Seventy, the number
Of years
I wouldn't have known
What brought me here.
But my strong conviction
That there is someone
Above watching over me
All the days of my life.
He gifted me
Two wonderful children
Who begot three
Adorable and beautiful
Angels,
My crowning glory
Honour and splendour.

By Leah C. Dancel
Copyright @2020
All rights reserved
August 23, 2020
Australia
(Edited Version)