TO COMMUNE WITH THE DIVINE

If he could only give words to this life he has lived,

It would fill up, span, the annals of

     human history,

For the journeys he has taken

      and lived

They speak of a thousand lives

      and not just the man he is 

      today.

But his is not the freedom to boast

Of the travels, the roads he’s walked  from east to west

In his grasp, there’s only the right 

      to choose

To live a man, or die, divine! 

So many crossroads in a life so

      complex, so true

As he looks at the water, there, 

       is his reflection

How come it does not show

The battle scars, the wounds, the

       pains of a thousand swords? 

He raises his eyes heavenwards

Eyes that question what his lives

       have been all about

Answers won’t come; they never 

       did.

But he knows. He knows.

His is the burden no one else may 

        carry

It is no one else’s. Only his to own.

In the midst of the waters that is life and the world

He is forever alone. His pains reach

        eternity. 

To live a man, to die divine, 

Much is the price; only he can 

        understand.

Up in the sky, a flock of birds fly on

Someday, when his time has 

         come... he too, will be up 

         there. 

At dawn, he will fly on.

Source: FB/Filipino Poets in Blossoms 

May 27, 2021

THE BOOK OF DREAMS

By Rado Gatchalian

Your thoughts are sleeping while

Everyone is awake;

If you are dreaming and wanting to smile

Sit on a rock and wait.

Do not worry if the mountain is so high

You fly not because of your wings

But because the wind is your bosom friend.

When you illuminate in the dark

Yet you still long for peace:

Open your eyes and know who you are.

When everything is lost and not found

Remember where you nourished your childhood –

In your sweet dreams when everyone was asleep.

A LIFE OF BLISS

By Hedda Tady 

If I were to live a life tucked away somewhere in these mountains, cocooned in the quiet that was life years past, would that be bliss? Would that spell happiness that’s forever? 

If I were to live in some posh villa somewhere grand, would that be freedom from the regular cares of this world, not needing to care about the basics to survive? 

Would I ever know? 

Would you? 

Do we ever get to have the luxury of knowing well ahead what truly is a life of  bliss? 

And isn’t it always, that we can only come to comprehend it all when we get there, 

when we fill up the shoes of that someone we thought we would like to be? 

Only to find out, realize, that such an existence may not be what we truly wanted, needed, thought it was going to be. 

Ahhh, man.... woman.... creatures of this earth, forever wanting what lies beyond the bend, whatever it is that’s hidden to the eye, elusive to one’s touch. 

Perhaps, the whole idea is - as it has always been told to us from the ancient sages to the most modern of mystics - that to have peace, we must savor life as it unfolds each day, to open our eyes to the beauty that’s laid down before us each morning. They are always there, hiding in plain daylight. But that it would take some investment in mindfulness and that we must learn to cultivate a spirit that’s excited to explore and discover, to see truth, beauty, bliss for what they are. 

And only then, will the secrets of the universe reveal themselves to our eyes - when we become quiet and simple of the mind, grateful in hearts, and most of all, welcoming to receive the secrets to life deep within our souls.

Source: Melancholic Revetie

WHY SHOULD I EVER BE SAD?

By Parker J. Palmer 

Why should I ever be sad,

knowing the aspens are 

always here dancing along 

this trail, slim as willowy 

girls, swinging their arms,

tossing their hair, swaying 

their hips in rhythm with 

the mountain wind? Above 

the aspens, intensified sky, 

a dream of blue seen only as 

cities fade from view. Below 

them a rocky slope covered 

with clotted clumps of leaves 

and fallen, rotted branches, 

laying down a love bed where 

Indian Paintbrush and white 

violets grow amid a flourish 

of green. All of the tumbled 

boulders and rocks have found 

their angle of perfect repose,

so why should I ever be sad? 

All of this waits for me when 

at last I stumble and fall,

waits for me to join in this 

dance with all that turns and 

whirls - a dance done to a

silent music of our dappled,

singing,  swaying world. 

A BUTTERFLY WITH PURPLE WINGS

(For Emily Dickinson)

By Rado Gatchalian

15 May 2021. 135th death anniversary of Emily

Let me not doubt your love —

Or let me openly love you in the air —

How shall I protect you against the Mad?

I will keep all your words in my heart.

As Time elopes with the sudden anguish of Wind —

Do not worry but — Fly — continue to Fly —

Until every child and soul quietly read and listen —

And ready to let you go, be free, and I say Goodbye.

BLACK HOLE

By Melany Amante Mabao Maguindanao 

Blank massive darkness hovers.... 

Like a blanket in an infinite universe. Boundless horizon as far as the eyes can see, A canopy that shields us from the truths of reality. 

I looked for the holes in this vast filter to see... 

What lies beyond the covering that limits me? 

Heartbeat after heartbeat galloping, 

Far beyond...a black hole is glowing. 

At the edge of time and space, 

Where we are all headed to singularity... That supermassive black hole awaits us, at the center of the Milky Way. 

Far beyond this life's short-term occupancy, 

A final spectacular destination to stay.

Contemplating the story of the universe... 

We shrink into trivial anonymity. Ignoring our ephemeral corporality... 

A deprivation of a rare opportunity.

 

Source: FB/May 1, 2019

HYMN TO STOIC BEAUTY

(For Percy Bysshe Shelley) 

By Rado Gatchalian 

You wake up with everyday’s extremes of not knowing and fully well; 

then when a broad daylight 

pierces your broken heart —

you look afar like a blind foe, 

you quit, and stop, and think, 

and listen to a music dear to a weeping child. 

When the past is a memory of shattered pieces: 

you dream for stars that shine in the shadow, 

but where shall you keep such glory when all hopes that nourish your soul become a dust hiding quietly in the dark? 

As you declare triumph over death: remain where you hide — 

where no souls can hear your voice, 

not even the anguish of your saddest poems, 

but when you arise after the third day and night, 

whisper the truth to all listening ears and tell them: “Be not afraid...” 

Now that you rebel against the tyranny of fear, 

revolt because right is always right, 

and love can never be opposed by silence; 

if only you come near to every dying poor 

clasp their arms and let them feel the warmth of a warrior whose only prayer is a hope that tomorrow everyone becomes free. 

As death comes nearer to a young poet, not everything in you shall die, 

but when you are forgotten 

do not pity nor weep endlessly, 

among the stars in the sky 

you glimmer beneath the clouds awaiting the twilight of joy, 

and you wrap your body among the gods whose desire is solely to celebrate beauty. 

Source: FB/The FILOsopher

BUT WE'RE NOT CARELESS CHILDREN

 "These days are dark and heavy and I wish the best for everyone..." ~Author

Photo and Words by Yesu Ben 

We are not careless children, we have pride

yet life is quickly crumbling on all sides...

and hope like yours, accord the Human soul

with scope, like billows on parched craggy rolls

of rocks that once were cultured living lands

until this shadow rose with rifling hands.

We cry, with voices once distinct, no sound

like slaves with masks and fear walking all 'round.

Bring me to meadows green, places I love

To be a man once more – once more to rove

and listen to the winds and seas that roar -

the happiness of youth I’ve known before.

Though few the years, I do not want that door

- indignity beyond and nothing more.

Whatever happened to that lofty dream -

Untruth! This evil lie, this wicked beam.

The hour is almost nigh, we’ll cease to be,

by Death, redeeming us, to perhaps see

a scene of bliss, and freedom, fiction gone -

With gladness real - with love, we aren't  alone.

Oh yes as far as I can go, yes I have fled

far from this cemetery of the dead.

Awake to a much greener world than this

and nearer truth, deep joy and perfect bliss.

Source: FB,  May 11, 2021

BUILD BRIDGES

Photo and words:

By Romeo Balingcongan

If only we can

Learn it fast 

What engineers

Have long known 

The best way to 

Build bridges 

To meet halfway 

Is the best

But we are all

Of high pride 

Source: FB, March 26, 2021

WHEN THIS VESSEL IS GONE

November 17, 2018

By Estelle Cortes

I struggle to find solid ground,
Where my knees won't shake,
And my heartbeats don't race,
Where hearts don't lie
For friendship's sake.

I struggle to find meaning,
To this very existence,
'Cause love matters as much as
My will to live-
A thirst to be quenched.

I don't need to look for my Soul,
It has lived a thousand lives,
Long before this lifetime unfolds,
It has fought battles,
And won.
It will linger on
And live again
When this vessel is gone.

~Estelle~

Source: FB,  May 8, 2021

I SPOKE TO YOU IN WHISPERS

By Neil Andrew

I spoke to you in whispers

As shells made the ground beneath us quake

We both trembled in that crater

A toxic muddy bloody lake

I spoke to you and pulled your ears

To try and quell your fearful eye

As bullets whizzed through the raindrops

And we watched the men around us die

I spoke to you in stable tones

A quiet tranquil voice

At least I volunteered to fight

You didn't get to make the choice

I spoke to you of old times

Perhaps you went before the plough

And pulled the haycart from the meadow

Far from where we're dying now

I spoke to you of grooming

Of when the ploughman made you shine

Not the shrapnel wounds and bleeding flanks

Mane filled with mud and wire and grime

I spoke to you of courage

As gas filled the Flanders air

Watched you struggle in the mud

Harness acting like a snare

I spoke to you of peaceful fields

Grazing beneath a setting sun

Time to rest your torn and tired body

Your working day is done

I spoke to you of promises

If from this maelstrom I survive

By pen and prose and poetry

I'll keep your sacrifice alive

I spoke to you of legacy

For when this hellish time is through

All those who hauled or charged or carried

Will be regarded heroes too

I spoke to you in dulcet tones

Your eye told me you understood

As I squeezed my trigger to bring you peace

The only way I could

And I spoke to you in whispers......

Photo: Goodbye, Old Man 

by Alan Livingstone MacLeod

Source : FB/The Quiet Australian 

April 25, 2021

WHEN THIS IS ALL OVER

By Author Anon 

When this is all over,

And sanity's restored, 

Don't take life for granted, 

As we did before. 

When this is all over, 

The clouds will all clear, 

Take hold of your loved ones, 

Hug and hold them near. 

When this is all over, 

We'll hear the birds sing, 

Listen to their melodies, 

The joy that they bring. 

When this is all over, 

And children can play,

Let them wild and free, 

To make up for lost days. 

When this is all over, 

Remember the brave, 

Who wore scrubs and gowns, 

And the countless they saved. 

Source : FB,  Covid 19 Era circa 2020-2021

THE WISDOM OF BABYLON

by Rado Gatchalian 

Wisdom is given by Nature 

so that we can walk with the trees knowing well that our roots 

are the most beautiful part of 

who we are. 

Though every rhythm sounds too enigmatic

the message is eloquent

to a soul who not just listens

but admits that he knows nothing:

when one submits,

one receives.

He who bends his ego

creates a masterpiece

that is only revered by gods —

but why?

because only the same sacred

can see the same light. 

A blind can never see

what is beautiful: 

he who is in the dark 

lives only in his own shadow 

and never would want to be free. 

When Nature speaks of hate —

she instructs like no one does: 

only few words are spoken 

but it will invalidate the very existence 

of any strong alphas, including the 

strongest.

The Gate of God is awaiting: 

a birthplace of knowing, 

but as we walk towards a tower 

one needs to quiet the mind and 

to seal the lips, but with open heart — 

so that the monument of greatness appears to us. 

When Nature speaks of love —

she adores like no one does:

we become the art itself,

we become what love is —

indefinable but glorified forever

even after death:

that is love."

THE BROKEN GIRL

By Natasha Jordan 

Welcome to my broken home, 

There's nobody here I'm all alone. 

The walls they scream of things once said, 

They constantly echo in my head. 

The door in front it never closes as people never stay, 

The hatred and guilt always drives them away 

So welcome to my broken home 

I don't have anything to offer you, 

No love, no face 

I'm out of place and there's not much 

I can do. 

I sit in here and do nothing at all, 

But stare at these empty walls. 

It portrays the life of hurt and hate, 

My destiny, my anguish, my solitaire fate. 

It's like a projection screen playing a never ending show, 

It's like it's in slow motion, so painfully slow. 

So run now from my broken home, keep the door open as you leave, 

Because being trapped in here 

I still need air to breathe. 

Tell now about my broken home of all things heard and said, 

Because even as a woman that house still lives in my head. 

That little girl trapped inside, well that little girl is me, 

Even though I'm older now the horrible thoughts won't me be.

THE BOOK OF HOPE

(A Meditation on Isolation) 

By Rado Gatchalian 

Perhaps if tomorrow’s sun 

Shall bring the sweetest light to you —Now is the time to look at (for) your soul, You listen, and you know, 

You whisper, and you hope. 

You may not endure this loneliness 

But always try to catch the silence 

Of the wind, of the soft voice of meadow.

Perhaps in this darkest hour

Some of you are dwindling like a dust,

And some, breaking into pieces,

And more, becoming like a stone:

Gazing at nowhere, and heartless like you.

If today — you feel you are alone

And no one with you but the moon,

Be still and speak as gently as a poem.

If this world is empty and lonely

Walk and speak to every leaf in the woods:

There is a shadow that speaks no fear.

You look beneath the rocks and you see only yourself:

Ask if what you see is who you are

Or is the image a forgotten remembrance

Of a vivid day when you were still young.

And when you find it, speak to him like a child.

Truthfully, strive to cherish this time,

For tomorrow life will be chasing again,

Then, it is too late to find contentment And reasons to live and be at peace.

Remember, silence is a virtue:

But only if it is spoken with love and by lovers.

And yes, in the stillness of the night

There is no truthful beauty but the stars.

A STONE IN THE SAND

#Poetography by Rado Gatchalian

Among the million things that stand (or float),

The most contemplative if there is one:

A saint among the stars, fading or bright,

There’s an atom that is a billion years old

But people still inhale and exhale until now.

Eternity exists in the shadow, in darkness,

Quietly hiding in every particle in the universe:

We are born, and when we die,

We become one stone, everywhere, all the time.

When all truths become one piece —

The moon, the sun, and the earth

Become a little piece of rainbow of Time.

As beauty overpowers intelligence:

Love becomes the most beautiful stone there is.

Source: Facebook April 17, 2021

IF THERE’S A WAY, THERE’S A WILL

 By Rado Gatchalian 

Even the brave walks slowly

On a mountain where rocks

Are a symbol of timeless glory.

When we are at the altar of eminent grace

We submit not because we are weak

But because we recognise a power

greater than ourselves.

But even the weak steps a higher ladder

On a field where grasses and wild flowers

Are living testimony of inner strength.

When we kiss such immutable beauty

Every form of being becomes a constant reminder

That we suffer not because we are fragile

But we are given the opportunity to redeem ourselves.

Whether we run like a tiger

Or crawl like a wandering snail:

The exact measure of winning

Is not decided by who comes first 

But who endures pain with such grace

That even a mountain of great might

Bows to a warrior whose power is in the heart.

THE BEST PLACE

This is where time has brought meSome stolen moments in the land of fantasy.

I left my drama behind.

Temporarily, to ease my mind.

I summon the forces of the universe.

I'm chanting verses without rehearse.

Alamada Mountains here I am.

Swallow all my troubles in your calm.

My tears reflected in your sunset's glow. 

This pain... in the rain just make it flow.

Looking back, I should have known...

Here is the best place, my troubles are blown.

By Melanie Amante Mabao Maguindanao

March 15, 2021

HUMANITY

Photo: Credit to the owner 

By Leah C. Dancel 

In a solitary moment

Musing as I skywatch from my window Observing some monumental acts

But clusters of white puffy clouds

Are pinned in the sky, sitting in stillness Ignoring my prying eyes 

Unperturbed in their own mindful state. 

Spring is fanning its gentle breeze

As mildly as a bright calm day

With leaves of the trees swaying

Gracefully in branches and twigs

Albeit, in the absence of birds that sing and dance

Life seems dull and uninspiring; without them

Their music is what I long to hear like yesterday.

In such a time with so much space

To colour my day with gaily impression

What thoughts could be more enthusing

Than an effervescent mind that comprehends

The natural order of life tainted with pragmatism

Alluding a predicated chaos and confusion

At alarming scales, disarm humanity.

Humanity, the solemn word that brings back memory

Of those young boys trapped in a cave of darkness

Saved by desperate group of strangers to free them

As time was running out, and the process was slow

Tempered with uncertainty, yet risk had to be addressed

In everyone’s heart and mind, 

“God help us do the best we can”

And the answer came, so it shall be… 

Humanity is still alive! 

When trust, tact, and teamwork unite all hearts

Irrespective of colour, race and belief

Non-judgmental perspective, undivided ideology

Political partisan aside, as people work side by side

There’s no obstacle turn disastrous

When all hands join together in one common goal

An impossible mission for humankind is what we aim to do. 

Source : DX Lab State Library of NSW

September 27, 2020

NB. This poem has been inspired by the story of THAI CAVE RESCUE, June 23-July 10, 2018 where two notable Australian Cave Divers played a pivotal role in saving those young children and their coach in Thailand.

LET EARTH ENDURE

 By Jesu Ben 

A pox, a blight, a cursed end

An instance of regret

Let hope ring out – a message send

That love will pay the debt.

Let Earth endure, and hands be lent

Give edge to fading age

Let faith assert and stars assent

the damage assuage

RAIN OF BLESSINGS

Winter didn't hibernate

But the rain we couldn't wait

Drought thickens parchedness
The season under humourless spell.

That spell breaks its long silence
Weeping wet the earth not with sadness
For the earth around us rejoices
When rain to us at last descends.

From the sky covered with starkness
Blue and clear with cloudless days
Then sometimes rain clouds hovered by
Posing hope that soon all will be well.

Morning mists steamed through darkness 
It moved around to sweep clean the air
While the sky has long withheld the burden 
Today is here when heaven disposes.

Rain without you this land cries of affliction
Though you scourged with rage in diverse places
Floods and strong winds bring down calamities 
Here and there fires break through like hell.

Today, you decided to show us your mercy
Your strength of power as mighty as the sea
You rain down blessings to dispel aridity
Rain, we long to embrace you with divine graces.

Leah C Dancel 
Copyright@2017 

All Rights Reserved
20 October 2017
Australia

BY THE SEA

 By Leah C. Dancel

On this beach by the sea
I pore through the sand of memory
Wash by the rough edges of the waves
Reminiscent of home far away.
The rocks form a fortress
From intrusive waves of injustice
They're my citadel from the enemies
Who in silence rob my happiness.
A place of solace from loneliness 
To which tranquil of vicinity
Drapes me with peace and serenity.
Just as how it was in my days.
As I watch the blue waves roll
Fleeting from the deep far end
They beckon me to stroll 
Quietly I obey and bend.
With pride their forces play
To show their grand display
Their spray comes in wonder
Cohesive and majestic as the sea!

@LCDancel
25 September 2018
East Beach
Kiama NSW

THE RAIN WASHED UP THE DIRTY LAND CLEAN

By Melany Amante Mabao Maguindanao

 

I saw the rain washed up the dirty land clean.
The trees were dancing vibrant green.
The leaves that lost their coats of dust...
With scented freshness float at last.
The sky looked fresh and clean, and blue. 
It brought the world a brighter hue. 
The sun shined bright 'til time to set...
No hint of darkness, no, not a bit.
The moon that followed bathe the night...
With shimmering bright and silvery light.
Forever I wish, my vision will stay,
But fear caught up the image away...
The strong wind blowed and stole ...
This humble dream of a fool.

But who needs some silly wish on the moon...
When the firelight burns in your heart?

March 15, 2020

LIKE DROPLETS OF VERSE

By Yesu Ben

Like droplets pushed towards time’s barren shores

Our incidence will bear us to our goal

Not by the wind but each time like before,

By certain will and character enrolled.

The scythe shall every sculpted grassland shear,

And shall have them killed long before they’ve dawned,

And it sees neither greenness nor the years

for we all shall be merged with sea and gone.

The process is a long dark winter night,

A spiteful earth and window-shatt’ring storm.

Glass-like shadows will sneer at breath and sight,

transforming us unknowingly in form.

There is a day that waits but far ahead

It hides in verse that is yet to be read.

SAVE EARTH, SAVE HOME, SAVE LIVES

By Stuti Tandon

The beauty of the earth

Is where the wind blows,

The greenery in the garden

Is where the wind goes…

Winter’s cold wind

And pleasant summer sun,

The voice of the rain

And little children fun…

Stop cutting the trees

Stop making fires,

No more construction

Our earth will get tired.

Source: Your Quote