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