DREAM TRAVEL

My solo flight adventure to Washington DC, USA for the first time in my life in 2005 to attend the Poetry dot com Convention and Symposium held at Hilton Hotel.

DREAM TRAVEL

Travel HERALDS a new adventure
Into the unknown that I've never been
Unravel I all excitement and pleasure
To go with the flow to places unseen.

Adventurous spirit is in my veins
Dare, I climb down  precipitous fold
Audicious decisions made in cursive lanes
Bare I the shards of life's agony  unappalled.

The climb to the top makes it all worthwhile
Though the process is steep and impossible to attain
Uh, the maze of triumph appears in style
Lo the refreshing view recompenses all pain.

Travel hinges in the wings of success
Into the unknown I seek in a dream
Propelled by desire, heralded my silent wish
To see the land of splendour that I've dreamed.

©Leah C. Dancel
Copyright©December 1, 2021
All rights reserved
SH-Australia
ILA Magazine
#soloadventure
#initialendpoem
#wowherald

UNDERSTAND MY SILENCE!

By Sai Prakash

UNDERSTAND MY SILENCE!

Many words I wish to speak a few sweet and a few sour

I tried many times,you gave me no space

I thought you have no time to spare

Every time I tried,you erected a roadblock

Even I tried to surpass,there is no road ahead

Today I stand at the crossroads, today or never

I was left with no option, I am prepared to take the path less traveled 

But before I leave, let me pour my thoughts, I except a final hearing, I hope without an interruption

Let me remind you how we progressed, from classmates to soulmates

A journey that took us two decades, all the while you kept the doors open 

Of late I find, you started to withdraw your emotions, neither you shared nor allowed me 

This indifference is very hard to bear

I started to learn the art of swallowing my words and pride, upto a point of no return 

I started to lose even my identity

I dont know, what conspired 

Your neglect weighing heavy on my psyche, I am left with no option but to leave 

May be one day good sense may prevail 

No cloud can ever hide, the Sun will surely emerge 

Speak to me before it is too late, I confide mine 

It's your turn, I wait 

I wish you can understand my silence all these days

(C) Saiprakash

Source: ILA MAGAZINE

Where Culture Meets Creativity

Founder: Annette Nasser

THE POLITICS OF WAR

Brisbane Queensland

May 22, 2019

THE POLITICS OF WAR

By Rado Gatchalian

In life nothing is permanent except enemies. 

Whether we fight or not in the battle, the enemies are everywhere. They will try all the means to win — and the only remedy is to face one enemy at a time. And many times they will win. 

You will lose the battle because the enemy is within. 

You will be betrayed by your own kin. Do not be surprised. But you will only become strong the moment you realise that the real battle is in your own territory.

When you find the loyal and the disloyal — befriend the enemy and test your friend. The good and evil are one. They wear the same mask — and they share the same aspirations to destroy you.

When the day becomes night and the night becomes day: you will realise that time is your worse enemy. Why? Because you will realise that time is so short and there is no way that you will have all the opportunities to win every battle.

When all is lost and no motivation to win, remember that Time is the great healer. The wounds from the battle will heal from itself. You don’t have to do anything. Nature gives what you deserve. Take it or leave it.

When you decide to become a warrior — prepare not just for today but for the future. Why? Because tomorrow you will meet new enemies.

When you face your enemy for the very last time, you will realise that it is not about winning or losing that matters most. It is when you decide to fight in spite of the conclusion that you will never win that you realise that you are already a winner.

Behold your own destiny. The enemy is within. When you are able to conquer yourself — you have already won the worst battle in the universe. Your own spirit is your worst friend and worst enemy. Be careful. Walk slowly. 

And your only true victory is that you become loyal to yourself. The war is between who you really are and who you think you are. Choose well. 

Keep fighting. This is the battlecry.

But keep looking. As the enemies are constantly watching.

 

#ThePoliticsOfWar

#TheArtOfWar

#TheEnemyWithin

#TheFILOsopher

Comment

"Even as I believe that the real enemy is within ourselves, this view is a very dark view of life to think that friend and enemy, the good and evil are one, intent on destroying us.

It belies the true meaning of friendship and our personal experience.

He could have stated the latter truth without that dismal view of friendship."

~Romeo Balingcongan

🔜🔜🔜🔜🔜🔜🔜

Rado G

When we read this piece - the readers are challenged to think outside the box — and at the same time — in its purest context: “politics.”

Though: many of my writings are seem analytical — it also convey a deeper challenge — as I write in metaphors.

And I am fully aware of its limits — and danger: as I give the readers the liberty to judge and interpret based on what they “see.”

But the real test is to understand that what is essential is invisible to the eye.

And if I will reveal a deeper context: though it gives a conclusion as to inevitability of “enemies” — it actually helps us to realise the value of friendship…

And we will come to a higher level of consciousness that the only permanent thing in this world is Love and Friendship…

🔜🔜🔜🔜🔜🔜

BUT MORE SO TO LOVE

But More So To Love

By Rado Gatchalian

(Amor et Vita campaign)

There is greater beauty in searching than discovery;

Wisdom in questions than answers.

Time becomes more precious

As one reaches the end of his life.

When a man becomes poor

His treasures become more valid.

To find the brightest stars

One needs to wait for the darkest night.

We become stronger

When we are tested how weak we are.

Life becomes more valuable

When everything that we own means nothing.

It is when we lack the luxury of life

That every grain of rice becomes diamond.

Life as we breathe everyday

Becomes the best testament that we exist.

When present becomes past and future

Not only life matters but more so to love.

#AmorEtVita

NOT OURS

NOT OURS

Past hurts of time

are no longer yours and mine.

They now rest in the hands

of our Great Holy Divine.

He removes all pains away

that sorrow will be effaced.

Then our tears He wipes away

and gratitude takes its place.

He mends our broken heart.

Our chipped soul He restores.

His mercy fills us with love

like a shower of blessings from above.

May the season of spring joy

subdue the season of woe

for seasons are made by Him too,

to colour our days with wonders and joy.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©2012

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Spiritual Healing, Inspiration and Comfort

(Comforting the Broken Heart

A Book of Poetry

By Marvin H. Lane

Self-Published@2012

California, USA

ISBN 1477624651)

(Edited)

Photo: 

Machattie Park and Garden

Bathurst NSW

April 1, 2021

RAINFALL

RAINFALL

By Leah C. Dancel

I sing a song

of midnight blue.

It's melody

and tempo slow.

Bewildering,

beguiling,

and sadness

has brought me low.

The night is starless;

the moon without a glow.

And tears from heaven

are silent burdens

that flood my heart;

chilling and 

grieving with 

melancholic flow.

But the garden did not perceive

what the heart has conceived.

It did not matter

for the rain has brought life

to the plants a hungered

for love and tender care,

where pain has no place

in its beauteous blooming space.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©2012

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

(Comforting the Broken Heart

A Book of Poetry

By Marvin H. Lane

Self-Published@2012

California, USA

ISBN 1477624651)

AH, SWEET BUSH

By Steve Parish

AH, SWEET BUSH

The fragrance of eucalyptus

and grasses dew-wet

evokes a thousand memories.

Grass trees,

their skirt-like fronds dancing

in a midsummer breeze.

Gum blossoms burst with vibrant colour.

The drone of insects

feeding on the sweet,

dripping nectar.

Among the grasses, 

spiders crawl.

Butterflies and dragonflies

dance their private ritual

in a sea of floral fantasy,

their secrets shared with wrens, 

warblers 
and willie wagtails.

Gum leaves and feathers

float on oceans of air,

ensnared by the pleasure 
of summer winds


or the curiosity of nimble agile wallabies.

Webs, deserted by day,

still carry the remnants of night-time banquets,

as snakes move with grace, leaving no leaf-litter hint

of secret destinations.

An Elder passes stories

on from heart to heart,

where there are ears to listen,

‘bout bushland secrets,

‘bout squabbling,

‘bout chattering, trilling birds

and how they connect their flying spirits

to the bushland’s golden sun ...

Ah, sweet bush.   - Steve Parish

Image & words >  Digital Art inspired by Dryandra Woodlands Western Australia from Photographing Australia the Ultimate Travel Guide. https://bit.ly/2MCYUvZ

 

#australia #art #fineartphotography #photography #nutsaboutgums #westernaustralia #exploreaustralia #greynomads #art

Source: FB/November 24, 2021

PERFECTIONS

By Rebecca Tarog Adjie Canon

There's no way that I can achieve perfection

Somewhere along the way I will stumble

I will fall short of expectation, I will fail

I will disappoint myself and others

I will concede defeat, but, momentarily I hope

There is a THIN line between surrender and submission

The determination to rise once again

I will get tired, discouraged and disheartened

BUT never lose the will to fight, gather the strength to emerge, and move on from a failure

It takes courage to stop fretting and moaning a lost battle

Resolute look ahead to better days that is yet to come

I believe that agony will not last forever

It is just a matter of perspective, of looking at situations

I have learned how to make do of what is left 

Believing that something better is in store for me

And just for this moment when the tides are high and I feel stifled by uncertainties and fear

I will hold on to that faith that everything will come to pass

After all the tears that have been shed, significant lessons were learned

Waves of trouble will ebb, the sea of life will be calmed again

As if nothing happened, as if no storm has come to ravage

     KEEP BELIEVING, I WILL RIDE HIGH, THE BEST IS YET TO BE!

Zoraya

Pilar, Sorsogon

Philippines

November 24, 2021

10:23 a m.

A JOURNEY HOME/TANGING YAMAN

A co-LOVE-b oration 

By Leah C. Dancel at Cherrie Facun Dancel

FOREWORD 

Family is home where our hearts lay a treasure of love, binding loyalty and unity. 

Two budding poets who met in a melting pot called Filipino POETS in Blossoms cherish the spot of telling different kinds of love for FAMILY. One tells her love of family and digging a historic saga of the DANCEL Foundation emanating from Gov. Arturo Dancel, one of the stalwarts of the Malolos Constitution, showed us a sense of appreciation where we came from.

Thanks to our Family History Researcher, Ruth Manzo Casis Dancel, the late mother of Romeo Occena, Lady Hannah Dorothy Occeña Bernardo, JV Dancel Occeña, Charm Gallardo  and Djamellah Dancel Occena. 

The other speaks of her longings to come home to their opened arms without  prejudices. 

I would like to personally REACH OUT with deepest gratitude to all the DANCELS everywhere around the World  that I had privileged to meet in person: Rich or Poor and in between!

TANGING YAMAN

(DANCEL: ANG MAHAL KONG ANGKAN)

Naisipan kong magtanong minsan

Kung saan ba nagmula ang aking angkan.

Ang sagot ni ama, galing si lolo sa ka-Ilocanohan

Kung saan nakatira si Presidente Ferdinand.

Si lolo daw ay napadpad sa Pangasinan

At doon ay saglit na nanirahan.

Sa muling paglalakbay siya'y nakarating sa Tarlac

Kung saan niya nakilala ang naging kabiyak.

Aking tinanong din sina tiya at tiyo

Kung may kapatid ba ang aking lolo.

Wala daw silang nakilala at nakita

Na kapatid o kamag-anak kaya.

Sa social media ako'y napadpad sa DANCEL clan.

Maraming nakilala at naging kaibigan.

Nakapalagayang loob at araw-araw na nakakahuntahan,

At ang iba'y aking nakasalamuha ng harapan.

Isang araw, may nagsaliksik na isang miyembro.

Ang kaniyang nalaman ay ipinabatid sa grupo.

May isang Dancel daw na napadpad sa Ilocos Norte

Kung saan nakatira ang dating Presidente.

Si Gobernador Arturo Dancel ay nag-iisa

Kaya ang mga Dancel sa Pilipinas ay sa lahi niya nagmula.

Siya'y nagkaasawa at nagkaroon ng walong anak.

Noong panahon ng digmaan, iba't ibang lugar ang kanilang natahak.

Ang iba ay napadpad sa Isabela at Cagayan.

Ang karamihan sa Ilocos Norte nanirahan.

Doon ay dumami ang mahal kong angkan,

Kaya nagkaroon ng Barangay Dancel sa isang bayan.

May mga naging guro sa iba't ibang paaralan.

Ang iba ay naglilingkod sa inang bayan.

Mayroon ding nakaimbento ng makina,

Gamit sa paggawa ng sapatos na sikat sa Marikina.

Sila'y nagtatagumpay sa anumang larangan

At di ipinagmamayabang kahit kailan man.

Sila ay tahimik lamang at sa kanila'y makikita

Ang kababaang loob at malasakit sa kapuwa.

Anoman ang katotohanang aking nalaman.

Nagkahiwa-hiwalay man sila noong panahon ng digmaan.

Naniniwala akong ang mga Dancel  ay iisa ang pinagmulan.

Si Gobernador Arturo Dancel ang ninuno ng aking angkan.

Mahal ko ang aking angkan.

Ito'y mananatiling TANGING YAMAN.

Sa aking kaluluwa, puso at isipan

Pakamamahalin ng walang hangganan.

Doon sa malalayo kong angkan

Kami ay inyong isama sa paglalakbay.

Muli nating gunitain ang angkan na pinagmulan

At mahalin habang tayo'y nabubuhay.

©Cherrie Facun Dancel

Copyright@November 23, 2021

All rights reserved

 

A JOURNEY HOME

It's a long road I've travelled.

Travelled lots of  trundled paths.

Paths with twisted bends and severed knots

Knots that tied my old bones, frailed.

Mile after mile each day methink.

Through ages like a turtle's pace that sink

Into endless abyss of weariness

Time has pruned my hopelessness.

Where is home for me to rest?

Where my heart longs to feel at ease.

Where is home at even, I lay in peace?

Where my beloveds make their nest.

How I yearn to be with my faithful treasures:

They're my clan, folks, kins, and offshoots.

Whose scattered seeds tendered the roots.

That grow like a tree that covers the world unmeasured.

The worries eased up, untangled and free.

And roads homeward are paved with love and loyalty.

I pledge to come home after all these years

May my journey home gives me a joyful memory!

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©November 23, 2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Co-LOVE-boration

With Cherrie Facun Dancel

(TANGING YAMAN)

TWILIGHT by Estelle

By Estelle

Twilight

Concept: finding love in the most unexpected time and place and making it work despite the difference.

When I first laid my eyes on you I was mesmerized,

Your beauty was that of liquid sunsets on the ocean.

Or fiery sunrise on the mountain tops,

Falling in love with you was never in my plans.

I can't deny the beating of my heart

Anymore than I could deny oxygen to my lungs,

Akin to drowning in your eyes,

Drawing me deeper inside.

Alas, we were worlds apart,

You a god, I, a mere mortal,

I thought I was the predator and you a prey,

But it wasn't meant to be that way.

We met in the middle,

We parted at some crossroads,

Your life beckoned, so did mine,

We thought that was goodbye.

Yet here we are again,

Meeting at another crossroad,

Destiny decided,

Our fates are entwined.

~Estelle~

112302021

TOMORROW IS MINE

By Leah C. Dancel

November 22, 2021

TOMORROW IS MINE

By Leah C. Dancel

The sun melted the cold oppressions

That tormented my soul for years.

Anguish and suffering were tasked, in silence cast away.

Forget about hard knocks

I keep moving on...

Soon my world was drowned in empty nest.

My cheery heart did cry in darkness.

I turned to work: my place of refuge; 

An aid for loneliness;

I found peace within.

As I eluded earthly love,

My walls of Jericho built up.

My friends who're few and far in between

Were amused of my sonorous chants;

Left me to fend on my own. 

Then fate decidedly intervened.

All my nightmares changed into gorgeous dreams.

Just as I gave up dreaming

You came out of the blue

You tugged my heart and I fell in love with you.

But one day, I vanished without trace.

I left no word, nor sign of whereabouts.

I hid among the forest of despondent graves

Wanting to slay all cruel ghosts without mercy.

And cried until my heart bled no more.

An Angel came to my rescue.

He asked me to come home to poetry.

His trust I owed, I gave it one more try.

I settled in, the Mother Eagle opened her wings.

My poetic muse works one day at a time.

Another channel has opened.

My poet beau and I did cross our path.

We renewed our promise

In each other's arms we belong.

With throbbing hearts we locked a true love that is reborn.

No matter how darkness engulfed our past.

And hopelessness is unceasing.

The light of day will always crack after dawn

Let our faith keep the fire burning.

For Tomorrow Is Yours and Mine!

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©November 22, 2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Co-LOVE-boration

Concept by Jhake Morales

FINAL SUBMISSION

(Original)

The sun melted the cold oppressions

That tormented my soul for years

Anguish and suffering were tasked, in silence cast away

Forget about hard knocks

I keep moving on...

Soon my world was drowned in empty nest.

My cheery heart did cry in darkness.

I turned to work: my place of refuge; 

An aid for loneliness;

I found peace within.

As I eluded earthly love

My walls of Jericho built up

My friends who're few and far in between

Were amused of my sonorous chants;

Left me to fend on my own. 

Then fate decidedly intervened.

All my nightmares changed into gorgeous dreams.

The farmer that my heart had long desired,

Knocked my heart down and planted 

His seed of love with patience till he reaped the crown.

But one day, I vanished without trace.

I left no word, nor sign of whereabouts.

I hid among the forest of despondent graves

Wanting to slay all cruel ghosts without mercy.

And cried until my heart bled no more.

An Angel came to my rescue.

He asked me to come home to poetry.

His trust I owed, I gave it one more try.

I settled in, the Mother Eagle opened her wings.

My poetic muse works one day at a time.

Another channel has opened.

My poet beau and I did cross our path.

We renewed our promise 

In each other's arms we belong.

With throbbing hearts we locked a true love that is reborn.

No matter how darkness engulfed our past.

And hopelessness is unceasing.

The light of day will always crack after dawn

Let our faith keep the fire burning.

For Tomorrow Is Yours and Mine!

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©November 22, 2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Co-LOVE-boration

With NT3

Concept by Jhake Morales

Just Continue To Shine

By Lenore Caytiles

November 21, 2021

Just Continue To Shine

Be like a lighthouse

  Standing tall and straight

    Happy to share your light. 

At most times

  People won't appreciate 

    Nor even notice you.

But in the darkest days

  Even your glimmering light                would be most appreciated.

OUR HEARTS

"Our Hearts " 

Our hearts feel the joy and trepidation.

All the pains and inspiration.

We abhor the things we hate.

We adore all the love we get. 

In loving each other.

Exchanging hugs and kisses with one another.

All happy memories we keep.

Sorrowful moments we forget. 

In heartache our heart is crying.

Tenderness of love is inspiring.

God gave human heart to feel

Happy love stories to tell. 

We are born with a heart.

Feeling of love is where it start.

It does choose what it select.

Sometimes what the mind reject. 

Love is sometimes blind.

Most of the time it's kind

Sweetness is its' gift.

Hate make it rip. 

Heart make us live.

If happiness it give.

Listen to your heart sing.

When joy it bring. 

Feeling all you do.

Happiness will see you through.

Heart is your treasure.

The giver of pleasure.

Napoleon Torres lll

11192021

Post: FPB

Picture: Google

HIMIG NG ALON

A Very Special Poem

By Frandres Irean

November 18, 2021

Napa on the spot akong bigla habang ka chat si Nay Leah

HIMIG NG ALON

H-imig ng alon ay tila isang bulong,

I-winawangis ang magandang awiting sa puso nagkakanlong,

M-usikang ikaw lang ang nakakaunawa ng layon,

I-pikit man ang mga mata'y dama ang damdaming nandoon,

G-umuho man ang kastilyong buhangi'y muling babangon,

N-awasak man ang pangarap ay may pag-asa sa dako pa roon,

G-umagapos na pighati'y hayaang patirin ng alon,

A-ng himig ng alon ay  dadampi sa pusong hindi makaahon,

L-upaypay na bagwis muling kakampay pagsubok man ang sumalubong,

O-yayi ng kabigua'y mapapawi manalig lang sa Panginoon,

N-agdurugong sugat sa haplos ng alon ay maghihilom.

Ang larawan ay sariling kuha ni Nay Leah

AFTERGLOW

AFTERGLOW

A presage to the eloquence of time:

aethetic, 

trancing,

encapsulating.

How oft mind wanders

in a sea of radiant peace

void of forebodings but glitters.

Surely stillness creates

mellifluous elegiac contentment

to a weary being.

Such ageless spectrum of day

defines its momentous beauty.

Tiltillating, then fades away.

All the earth's secrets are gone

as slowly velvet darkness canopies the sky.

And stellar confronts the lost Milky Way,

Illuminating the universe till the rise of dawn.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©2009

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Photo: Kiama, NSW

May 7, 2019

COLD UNHOLY HOUR

Awarded by Annette Nasser 

Admin. - ILA Magazine

COLD UNHOLY HOUR

(Reminiscent of Quakers Hill Days)

The dawn looks serene 

and the air is soft 

and refreshing.

The veil of darkness 

slowly rises - a curtain 

opening to a new day.

Ruminating...

the years gone by...

Just wondering

how one soul

had bravely went out 

to walk

in her solitary company

hours, before dawn time

to travel to work.

There were fears 

to be subdued 

and courage to grasp; 

praying for a throng 

of Angels 

to watch over her,

until she reached 

her destined place 

to safety and back.

Alone, 

waiting for the train 

to come in a seemly 

dimmed station, 

quivering in the cold 

unholiness 

of the wee hour.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©November 18, 2017

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

(That particular part of memory has recently been re-enacted during a day trip to a "meeting place" called Kamberra, for what is known today as Canberra, the Federal Capital City of Australia.)

Gallery

Photos: Grabbed from Visit Canberra

IN THE ABSENCE of LIGHT

By Leah C. Dancel

IN THE ABSENCE of LIGHT

Some parts of the world are dimmed

Darkened by injustices, lies, and tyrannies

Shrouded from untruth, and bespoken deception

That scattered lives, blinded in the absence of light.

Freedoms are haltered, liberties severed

Rights are tended for inhumane causes

Integrity disintegrates, and morals denigrade

The compass rusts and destiny goes awry.

Are humans doomed to their wicked doings?

While other humans pruned as their sacrifice?

Sacrifice for what? Their gluttons fare?

In their affairs of excessive decadence?

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright©March 22, 2019

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

Remember the smiles

By Donna Ashworth

Remember the smiles of the day, the laughter, the little wins, the warm words…

And let everything else go.

Put the lessons learned in a file marked ‘done’ and give yourself a pat on the back for the things you got right.

Leave the stresses of tomorrow where they belong – tomorrow.

Leave the stresses of today where they belong too.

And let the night take away the heavy weight from your shoulders.

Let it go.

Let yourself be safe.

Let yourself be still.

Let yourself be at rest.

When your head hits the pillow tonight my friend, let sleep come and let your soul be.

You did enough today.

We are all just doing our best with no rule book, in a game with no referee and no half-time.

None of us are getting it right, we are all just winging it.

We are all just as scared, just as weary.

When your head hits the pillow tonight my friend,

close your eyes and remember,

You are worthy.

Donna Ashworth

I WISH YOU ENOUGH

I WISH YOU ENOUGH!

By Bob Perks

Recently, I overheard a Mother and Daughter in their last moments together at the airport as the Daughter's departure had been announced. 

Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the Mother said:

"I love you and I wish you enough."

The Daughter replied, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom." They kissed and the Daughter left.

The Mother walked over to the window where I sat. Standing there, I could see she wanted and needed to cry.

I tried not to intrude on her privacy but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say Good-Bye to someone knowing it would be forever?" 

"Yes, I have," I replied. "Forgive me for asking but why is this a forever Good-Bye?"

"I am old and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.

When you were saying Good-Bye, I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"

She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone." 

She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail and she smiled even more.

"When we said 'I wish you enough' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them". 

Then turning toward me, she shared the following, reciting it from memory,

"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.

I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."

She then began to cry and walked away.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person. 

An hour to appreciate them. 

A day to love them. And an entire life to forget them.

Source: Wild Women Sisterhood

CARNATION

November 16, 2021

By Yesu Ben

Leah Dancel and that is why it is losing its flavorful whiffs and dying. Here's a poem for that:

CARNATION

(or On the Death of Poetry, 3 lines fixed for rhyme)

A grassy walk, carnation-lined stone stairs

I climb to see them murder my adored.

For centuries, I’ve paused to smell her hair 

and adulate a scent no queen has poured

Onto her palm. They’ve fought for one mere whiff, 

one vision quick of her entrancing sway.

And having learned, her sweetness smeared as if

she’s lost her drift, and earned their heartless bray.

My garden’s carnations have disappeared;

The wondrous fragrances have lost their trails

and weeds of hatred overgrown have cleared

the path of rhyming flowers, rudely flailed

inducing age old Mother back to sleep

that her sweet rhymes, be thrown into the heap.

My Comment

Yesu Ben - This reminds me of what happened to our Philippine movie industry. Pinoys tend to gravitate towards parrotism. They simply love to keep up with the Jones. In essence, we lost our sense of identity. We copy everything Hollywood feed our cinema, so the trend begins... Our moviedoms became polluted... i will let the readers digest my point. Now, this poetry...

THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE

By Yesu Ben

Before the sun can penetrate your veil

to make of thee a white winged angel free,

you must, Lanoo, peel off your guise, your jail

and slay your mortal lunar self and flee.

For to possess your soul, fight  Self and flesh,

twins, and yet one must perforce disappear

and in the struggle, must taste pain and thresh

‘til sense and person cease to interfere.

Till snake and serpent rise above the head

and unify the Spirit and the man,

till every drop of his blood has been shed

and he becomes himself the Path he scans,

Till then he cannot be a god of air

for true gods don’t a shroud or mantle wear.

ON HPB’s THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE 

YB

Tip 22:

Guys, i hope you wouldn't mind this piece of advice that i have been meaning to share. It is good to work for a citation, an award, a mention, a trophy or prize, but the true measure of a poet comes not in the approval gained. Remember Emily Dickinson whose 2000 poems were ignored while she was still alive. Her poems were posthumously discovered after her death. Same with Franz Kafka, Henry David Thoreau, and many more. What i am saying is this: when you write because writing makes you happy, regardless of conformity to standards, meters, rhymes, and the eventual approval by your peers, then yours is the world and everything in it...know what i'm sayin?. Let not the glamour interrupt your flight towards perfection.

November 16, 2021

O Gather Me The Rose

O gather me the rose, the rose, 

While yet in flower we find it, 

For summer smiles, but summer goes, 

And winter waits behind it.

For with the dream foregone, foregone, 

The deed foreborn forever, 

The worm Regret will canker on, 

And time will turn him never.

So were it well to love, my love, 

And cheat of any laughter 

The fate beneath us, and above, 

The dark before and after.

The myrtle and the rose, the rose, 

The sunshine and the swallow, 

The dream that comes, the wish that goes 

The memories that follow! 

O Gather Me The Rose

William Ernest Henley

OVER THE SEA

Over the Sea - 

Nominated by Don Luman-ag

Best English Poem

Month of July 2020

OVER THE SEA

The sun shines brightly 

in this lonely hour;

Its light shim'ring over the sea.

In that horizon yonder,

Its beauty looks enthralling. 

The morning dip feels tempting 

I dare not, till summer comes. 

This winter chills do make me freeze 

The water is cold in frosty mist. 

Far down the rocky banks of streams, 

The waves come rolling by the scrolls 

Of tenets from the ocean, winds blow. 

Augurs danger of the open sea!

The sea never slumbers 

neither day nor night;

Ebbs and flows, they never cease.

It fills the bowl of ocean deep 

The distant spells a magic blue. 

The sun looks perfect 

in this lonely hour.

Its light shim'ring over the sea!

The bright beams radiate warmth 

My heart feels all aglow.

©Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright©June 19, 2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia 

Photo sent by Miemie from Queensland

NB

Over the Sea - nominated by Don Luman-ag

 

YOU MUST BELIEVE

I hope you’ve not forgotten,

how magical life can be.

It’s understandable if you have.

Your soul is depleted, weary and worn,

But remember life is capable of so many twists and turns.

And nothing, nothing, is permanent.

As fast as you can feel at your very end, 

life can throw out a rope and pull you, 

To the highest of heights.

It’s a rollercoaster.

An up and down, in and out, over and under ride.

This chapter in your story is almost through 

And if you can just cast your mind back to the magic, 

Your silver lining will find you, pretty soon.

And I think it’s going to be the most magical time in your life,

You’ve come so far and taken so much.

I hope you’ve not forgotten how magical life can be my friend.

You must believe.

You must believe.

Donna Ashworth Words

SOMEONE'S TRASH IS SOMEBODY'S TREASURE

November 7, 2021 

Videographed by Jhake Morales

From HOME

By Julie Andrews

A rose lay open in full bloom

and, looking from my garden room,

I watched the sun-baked flower fill with rain.

It seemed so fragile, resting there,

and such a silence filled the air,

the beauty of the moment caused me pain.

'What more?' I thought. 'There must be more.'

As if in answer then, I saw

one weighty drop that caused my rose to fall.

It trembled, then cascaded down

to earth just staining gentle brown

and, since then, I've felt different.

That's all.

Poem by Julie Andrews, from Home: A memoir of my early years, page 127-128.

HEALING: You are the medicine

Shared by Wild Women Sisterhood

Advice from María Sabina, Mexican Healer and Poet

“Heal yourself with the light of the sun and the rays of the Moon. With the sound of the river and the waterfall. With the swaying of the sea and the fluttering of birds. 

Heal yourself with mint, neem, and eucalyptus. Sweeten with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile. Hug yourself with the cocoa bean and a hint of cinnamon. Put Love in tea instead of sugar and drink it looking at the stars. 

Heal yourself with the kisses that the wind gives you and the hugs of the rain. Stand strong with your bare feet on the ground and with everything that comes from it. 

Be smarter every day by listening to your intuition, looking at the world with your forehead. Jump, dance, sing, so that you live happier. Heal yourself, with beautiful love, and always remember.. 

YOU ARE THE MEDICINE.”

SOMEONE'S TRASH IS SOMEBODY'S TREASURE

By Leah C. Dancel

SOMEONE'S TRASH IS SOMEBODY'S TREASURE

(The Story Behind Hoarding Souvenirs)

 

My home is packed with souvenirs

Paperwalled by books, curios, and furnitures

Not kind of antiques worthy of the appraisal's gaze

Yet, I valued them like precious gold.

They came as gifts from friends so kind

Acquaintances and colleagues with  generous heart and mind

From ancient folks whom I've been endeared

Others were sent by post over the miles.

In my home are boxes and boxes of photographs, stamps and postcards;

Journals of my life's  journey and scribbled notes of  blurbs;

Some are decades-old letters I can't discard

And mementos from every place where I travelled far.

On many occasions I went to church, community and school fetes

And places like the Rotary Sunday Markets

Where locals were vending pre-loved old wares owned by deceased estates

Interesting finds were tempting which compelled compulsions.

My home is filled by these unique finds

Bought from fetes and markets at good bargain price

They're someone's trash indeed  

Ended to be somebody's treasure!

Old age is now taking its tool.

It's time to let go of my hoardings.

Forbid not, I hope whoever will own them next

Will take special care of these earthly sentiments.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

November 6, 2021

A Collaboration with Divina Cruz Tagaza

Theme: Giving sentimental value to precious useful items that have been a part of us.

WRITE POEMS AND CONNECT

Acrostic

GOLD 

Winning Entry

#POP_AT_14

WRITE POEMS AND CONNECT

(ACROSTIC)

W - written in style what pleases a poet,  writing poems is a form of self expression of feelings and ideas which are often hidden in symbolism like metaphor, simile, and allegory.

R - raking diction, words and vocabulary put together in a language of syntax; poets have a cunning way of versifying their thoughts that are appealing to the readers.

I - intensified by imagery, a poem even in its simplistic form brings imagination to life as if the reader is the one moving inside the story.

T - teeming with themes, poems sometimes are quantified by superfluity depending on how the writer picks a genre.

E - embracing cultures of ambiguity, poetry indeed is a fodder of literary genius that connects people of like minds.

P - people needs people. Poets need someone whom they can share their passion of poetry. Poetry dramatises that longing for connection.

O - obsessive passion poets can become, poetry writing is the spirit of a poet, a soul to the poems written.

E - evocative emotions as found in sensualism, profound nostalgia, narrative soliloquy and the like can arouse readers to react accordingly.

M - mysticism is one quality that makes poetry sensational. That quality that speaks of a writer's personality. This is where a metaphor comes in. It keeps the reader guessing. It challenges their sense of becoming, as well as their understanding.

S - sensory is another soul that embeds in a powerful poem. It has a gripping effect to the readers, inasmuch as to the writer. Poems without a sense of feeling is ineffectual.

A - ambiguous minds of the poets attract sensationalism. Perhaps to dare critiques to come out from their own cave of absurd literary escapism.

N - nutters and poets are similar in nature. They both show peculiar characters inherent to their ego that connect them to most people who can perceive their minds.

D - dream driven poets desire to be  acknowledged, recognised and validated. Dreaming and desiring spring from any form of objects that inspire them, in turn, inspire others.

C - communication is a bridge to connect with people, the readers as in the case of the poets. The vehicle of which is poetry of course; the poems they write, they publish, they speak. 

O - overtime writing poems is as ageless as time that gives us self-satisfaction

N - nimbling minds with thoughts to flow with rhyme and verses where they harmonise

N - networking with friends, and loved ones and those others across the miles as we nourish our gift of words 

E - enjoying time to release what we keep in our hearts that blossomed into poetry

C - connect with everyone around the globe, and cherish each moment of joy 

T - through our Passion of Poetry, we 

sail the conventional, explore the impossible, inspire the hopeless and extend handshake of friendship with everyone to promote love and unity.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

November 5, 2021

POP Acrostic

#Write_Poems_and_Connect

Comment

Adeptus - Jon T. Hermosisima

Adeptus' means "someone who has been obtained [something]" / "someone who attained [something]".

Where word ADEPT was derived:

As both noun and adjective, it developed the more general sense “(a person) highly skilled or proficient in a subject.” The adjective adept appears about a quarter of a century before the noun, but they have the same etymology, coming from Latin adeptus, the perfect participle of adipiscī “to overtake, catch up with, ...

MAYFIELD GARDEN IN FALL

By Leah C. Dancel

MAYFIELD GARDEN IN FALL

🌺🌷🍀🥀🌷🍂💞🍁🌿💐🌹

Ablaze with brightness 

Painted in red and gold; 

Exploding beauty

Behold! A nature's mirage!

Mellow lemony yellows

A hinged mirror upon the pond 

In the Valley of Oberon

Mayfield is dancing 'round the pole. 

Here's a crystal clear paradise 

A man-made oasis comes alive

Where green paddocks had once thrived.

Now a renown landscaped garden rise.

A scene of splendour in nature cascades

With fountain, lake in river bend.

There's a myriad of bustling blooms

Groomed in seasons all year round.

A stroll, a walk, a gentle stride

A pause, a stop, and rest beside

A stranger meet and greeting by

In this heavenly terrestrial place.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

SH-Australia

November 5, 2021

Comments:

Dreamy place. Poem of dream. ~NT3

Irrepressible Poetess as in Mount Olympus. A compliment! ~Jon T. Hermosisima Jr

Absolutely stunning! I love it! thank you so much for your brilliant mind💕 ~ Marlene Harkness

Beautiful language !!! ~Ed Yanson

THE GARDENER

THE GARDENER 

By Robert Louis Stevenson

The gardener does not love to talk.

He makes me keep the gravel walk;

And when he puts his tools away,

He locks the door and takes the key.

Away behind the currant row,

Where no one else but cook may go,

Far in the plots, I see him dig,

Old and serious, brown and big.

He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,

Nor wishes to be spoken to.

He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,

And never seems to want to play.

Silly gardener! summer goes,

And winter comes with pinching toes,

When in the garden bare and brown

You must lay your barrow down.

Well now, and while the summer stays,

To profit by these garden days

O how much wiser you would be

To play at Indian wars with me!

Photo: My home garden in Orange. Circa 1995.

CAN YOU SEE THE SUN...

By Livia York

CAN YOU SEE THE SUN...

Can you see the Sun shining from where you are?

I can't see it from where I am today

It was shining on me yesterday,

But I didn't take much notice of it,

I took it for granted, It's always there, I told myself,

I don't need to bask in it now.

But now there are dark clouds above me,

And I feel a chill in the air,

I miss the Sun's warmth, why did it desert me?

Yes...I know why... it's because I took it for granted

How ungrateful of me...I never said thank you 

Or...could it be because someone else,

somewhere in the world needs it more than me today?

Yes... that must be it...ho well, I will wait for my turn again.

So if you feel sad and blue, don't despair

Tomorrow it will shine again on you,

And you will see, it will be beautiful, CIAO.

Copyright@Livia York 7th November 2018

SWEET TIME

By Estelle Cortes

Dedicated to Leah C. Dancel

Some things take their own sweet time,

Like petals of a flower unfolding,

Like bees pollinating.

Even the ebb and flow of the tide,

Are  dependent on the Moon.

Some things are beyond our control,

Some things can't be grasped,

Some things can't be forced

Like the orgasmic gasps of lovers 

In the throes of making love.

So I put my trust in Fate,

That the Universe puts me

Where I am meant to be,

At certain points when I just want to rebel

No matter how defiant I may be.

So I bow my head and say:

Let thíngs be.

Destiny will have its say.

I'm just your soldier,

Please lead the way.

And humbly I say,

So mote it be.

~Estelle~

02102020

Comment 

That's beautiful too. Even in the sensuality of your writings, they always come out decent due to the words you've carefully considered. If only I were young, I wouldn't mind love being consummated with the right man, who at the sametime is my soulmate. It gives meaning to the cycle of life. ... lcd (04/11/2021)

Beautiful Mess

By Estelle Cortes

Beautiful Mess

I toss and turn,

Counting my heart beats,

Not knowing 

If I should be grateful

Or not.

Most nights are tougher than the others,

Thoughts tumbling like an angry river,

Churning, whirling

Inside my mind.

What a beautiful mess!

Sometimes overwhelming,

Sometimes organized chaos.

      "Breathe!"

        I told myself.

      "Acknowledge the beautiful mess that you are."

Survivors like me,

We became our own heroes,

Not waiting, nor expecting,

For anyone to save us

From our nightmares, 

Except for the Divine maybe.

Pain becomes our reality,

Each day of surviving-

A  Personal Victory!

No medals, no recognitions,

No pats on the back,

No one to cheer us on.

I am a beautiful mess, 

Surviving is what I do best.

 

~Estelle~

07102021

0414H

Comment

"The poem and the quote are perfect tandem. Yes,  we write our stories for our own good, not for others to snarl at us,  nor condemn us... It's just sheer luck, a tough luck, that we put it online sadly to be subjected to the reader's interpretation - most of whom are biased." ~Leah C. Dancel

FRIENDS

FRIENDS

Friends are like family, 

related to us by affinity.

Some go off the rail.

Some let loose like hell.

You meet them on the road

Where you cross path by chance.

You hail them on the thoroughfare

Where trials and triumphs dance.

Sometimes you'll get to know them.

Perhaps on occasion that begins 

with a simple hello or with a cheeky grin.

Sometimes they'll end up in bitter terms.

Goodbyes break down barriers 

When they turn around to stay

For the better good, or for the best of times,

But rarely when the strifes will strike.

It would be nice not to harbour

A season at odds against the weather 

That friendship will remain strong

Then no one can ever go wrong.

If only friends can stay true 

To each other more than a family;

This world will be void of hostility

So love, peace and harmony pull through.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved

SH-Australia

October 7, 2021

Friendship Poetry

Photo: Sydney Friends: birthday celebrant Lene, Girlie and Imee.

This poem is my Special Dedication to the Birthday Girl.

Comments 

Friends are a gift from the Lord. I don't have many but the ones I have are beautiful  people like you.  We may not see each other much but I cherish our friendship. ❤❤❤ ~Arlene (Gabby Jun)