THE VOICE WITHIN

By Crispulo Tappa 

THE VOICE WITHIN

She whispers a grain of truth to 

my ears

That lights this darkened world 

of mine

Like a candle that glows in my 

hands

As I tread this old weather-beaten 

path

The voice within I listen to, like

from a sage 

Whose thoughts are like sparkling

dewdrops

Caught in the midst of a silken 

web

That glisten against the morning 

light.

The voice within I so cherish 

like prompts

That guide my path to a life in 

disarray

Through the labyrinth of know-

ledge

This voice winnows chaff from 

the grain.

This inner voice within so pure, 

a love 

A voice of an angel sent from 

above

A guiding voice that tells me what 

to do

A moral compass that shows my 

North, so true. 

Let us always listen to that voice 

within 

That guiding voice that leads us 

to a place

And people meant for us to be 

around

That voice within that only GOD

can give.

KILLER WHALE

30 September 2023

Old Tom

Eden Killer Whale Museum 

29 September 2023

In the heart of the sea

Giant creatures live 

The guardians of water

Destined to be their territory. 

Whales humble humans 

By saving them from distress

When they get lost at the sea

On stormy days as lofty waves

Toss them into unknown darkness. 

Humans, too, take good care of them 

When they land aground into the shore 

They gather strength to push them 

Back to the water, where they belong.

Oftentimes, they race against time 

When the tide is low and poor creatures 

Run out of breathe 

Water is their lungs food 

They can't thrive in a human atmosphere. 

@Leah C Dancel 

30 September 2023

Eden NSW 

ROAD TRIP

ROAD TRIP

We seldom travel far 

On road trips by the car 

With my beloved family 

Whom I rarely see.

I welcome their invite 

To join in their adventure 

It's a long weekend holiday 

We'll stay somewhere by the sea. 

The Sapphire Coast is on their list 

So I didn't hesitate 

Some old acquaintance live there

Fun times with them I bear.

There's plenty of scenery

To marvel along the way 

With boundless lands to fathom 

Each space unbroken,  impossible to roam.

Mountains blue by nature's calling 

Naked hills: brown or green, rolling 

Sparse trees, rocky, un-arable 

Acres in bounty, the Eden land.

Driving through the forests:

Blue, Black or Brown, their names;

Be watchful for the narrow - 

Long winding road ahead.

Ascent and descent; risky steeps.

Safety gear in place; focus sharpened.

There's deep ravine and gorges too;

Hidden catchment lying down below.

Lake, billabongs and waterholes 

Are inlands fuel for the farms;

Sheep in flocks and cattle in herds,

Both find grace in green lands' charm.

Road trips may be long and tedious;

They bring a lifetime experience 

Of joyful mem'ries in store 

With loved ones by our side.

©️ Leah C Dancel 

Copyright ©️ 29 September 2023

Discovery Holiday Park 

Eden NSW

An Elegy For Mademoiselle Butterfly

By Crispulo Tappa

An Elegy For Mademoiselle Butterfly

From the tenebrous depths

of my heart

I grieve your death....my 

dear imago

Your life was fleeting as 

fleeting was

Ineffable, though your colors

bared your soul.

Within the cocoon you were

trapped

From darkness, you escaped 

unscathed

You have secured your sweet

liberty 

Absolute freedom as free-

dom does.

You fleeted from flower 

to flower, 

Day-to-day you cross-

pollinated

Danced in the air like a 

true ballerina

Nobody does it better, 'twas 

your birthright.

But there is one inescapable 

dark truth

That your ilk understood; 

life is a-fleeting

It will soon come to its

glorious end

Butterflies come and go

as God planned.

The colors of your wings

are too ornate

Patterns defined, yet we

can't extrapolate

Why in heaven's name

are you clothed in black

When you suddenly appear;

it portends death, alack

When your wings are

badly bruised,

It forshadows a damsel 

is in distress; A ruse?

Intrinsically, you are God's

whimsical creation

Deigned to be beautiful 

with a brevity of life

You made us understand 

that life is a-fleeting

Do what God has ordained 

us to do with our lives.

My beautiful imago;

You who have enthralled 

us with your colors

You who have taught us

to value our lives

Listen as the choir of cicadas 

sing you a farewell hymn

As the marching troop of ants 

carry you to your grave

Go now and rest your jaded 

chromatic-winged soul

Fly in your effervescense

to our Most Holy Creator.

AS WE GROW OLD

Maybe he is lonely

waiting for something more.

Which one of us need to 

open the door?

Let me bring you colours

my love 

let me dance in your sunshine.

 Could we blend both beautiful worlds?

Watch sunsets by the sea?

Undress me with your humble soul 

I want to lay safe

as we grow old.

D.A.

🐦 BIRDS 🐦

By Leah C Dancel

When you opened the sky 

And the birds came flying by

Looking for someplace to rest 

And, perhaps, build their nest.

At nightfall, I heard their murmurings 

Flitting from tree to tree, calling 

With longing for their home

From wherever they roamed.

©️ Leah C Dancel 

Copyright ©️ 19 September 2023

All rights reserved 

SH-AUSTRALIA 

TREES

"Trees"

BY JOYCE KILMER

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

( Memoir and Poems)

THE WRITER'S BLOCK

By Crispulo Tappa

The Writer's Block

            Rivers run dry in summer

            and the river bed 

appears

            Where thoughts like rocks 

            and stones lay 

petrified

            Shaped by currents over 

            a number of writing 

years

             Gather each piece in a 

             zen-form as a master 

tried.

             Look around you when 

             the writer's block 

occurs

             Find some inspiration 

             in the thing that 

blurs

             Our minds are befogged

             by our biases and 

prejudices

             Limiting our minds to 

             explore ideas, in our one-

sidedness.

             The world is a big stage 

             for the great poet to 

explore

             There is no reason to whine,

             a writer's block is just a 

sore

             That needs to be healed,

             there is no reason to 

fail

             Write a prose, convert 

             it into poem, hear the 

hail

             Do go over your drafts stored   

             in your celfon's garbage 

bin

             They, too, are poems that 

             have been waiting to be 

written.

CTTO: Photo

THE BLIND POET SINGS THE BLUES

By Crispulo Tappa

The Blind Poet Sings The Blues

         Have you heard the 

         poems of the blind 

poet?

         I did for a moment,

         I did not 

regret

         An old man, he didn't

         learn how to use the 

Braille

         He wrote it in the wind 

         I can hear them 

well.

         The blind poet sings from 

         the depths of his 

soul

         Unmetered, yet rever-

         berates through it 

all

         Haunting thoughts and 

         emotions unbounded, 

free

         In form and style, 

         pure in its own 

majesty.

          His poems are reflections

          of his life and 

mine

          Ballads blending with the 

          wind's rhythm and 

rhyme

          And the birds and 

          denizens of forest 

chime

          His words are magical,

          pure, and 

sublime.

          Jewelries of dew 

          glisten against the 

light

          What is there to wish, 

          hear this poet 

recite

          Poems of life's struggles

          written with sheer 

delight

          Aphorisms that are 

          true beacons of 

life.

CTTO: Photo

ANGEL IN DISGUISE

ANGEL IN DISGUISE 

By Don Luman-ag

Do not be deceived, by her gothic facade

Her looks can intimidate, an army squad

In reality, she's an angel sent from above

With wisdom of old, and heart full of love

She's a kindred spirit, she knows her kind

She can readily sense, those of like mind

Her ilk who roamed, unnoticed in the land

In his time of distress, she offered a hand

To fellow poets, she serves as their muse

Her keen wit and humor can surely amuse

Her positive energy, brings out good vibes

Having a ripple effect, uplifting many lives

A defender and warrior, of justice and truth

Is a soft-spoken angel, disguised as a goth

With her kind words, hope eternally springs

I am forever grateful, for the joy she brings

All rights reserved.

05 September 2023

MINDANAO, PHILIPPINES

A MOTHER'S LOVE

A mother's love comes in many forms.

A mother's love is expressed in lots of different ways,  demonstrates a powerful strength and influences her surroundings with her ability to muster things within her control.

In light of this topic,  a fellow poet,  Crispulo Tappa mastered his wisdom to  nudge our consciousness how our existence as offsprings of our devoted mothers can be ascertained through her able guidance, faith and trust in God, prayers and above all by simply giving her all to us.

That's because of her firm desires to fill and nurture us without condition with A MOTHER'S LOVE. 

Hope you'll enjoy this touching read. 

Signed:  Blog Admin 

SUNSET IN THE VALLEY

For Publication 

By Leah C Dancel

SUNSET IN THE VALLEY

I chase my dream
A sunset out west
Into the valley,  it rests;
Glowing in its brightest.

I pause by the bridge
To scan the sky unhitched.
There behind the tree
You shine your glorious rays.

I know you won't let me down
When you show me your crown
It's like a vibrant magic spell
No one can ever tell.

You didn't tarry long
You faded in haste like a song
As you left your afterglow
Then, it's time for me to go.

©️ Leah C Dancel
Copyright ©️ 3 September 2023
All rights reserved
Mittagong, NSW

ODE TO THE SUNSET

ODE TO THE SUNSET

By Crispulo Tappa 

Behind the fluffy clouds,

a twirling blazing sun sets

And before the night falls,

an invisible great painter

dabs colors in the sky

A kaleidoscope of colors

set on a billowy palette,

a fleeting blank canvass

Deftly paints a sunset,

of golden yellow, orange,

a tinge of precious amber,

a mix of violet and red,

gloomy grays, hiding rays,

a movie of glowing embers,

forever etched in our minds

Its solar radiance mirrored

on the wild wide sea below,

awes lovers and passers-by,

by the beautiful bay in the city

of  dreams and aspirations

Sea gobbles the setting sun,

and night deletes the sunset

The painter lays down his brush,

and hangs sparkling diamonds

in the infinite cosmos above

He bids everyone good night,

yet to return and paint again

Sunsets of different hues,

or just plain iridescent light

from an angry sun by the bay.

*My First Poem

Copyright ©️ Crispulo Tappa 

2 September 2023

MORNING BEAUTY

By Marlene Alamil Harkness

I woke up early this morning 

I heard the birds chirping

Thank you Lord for waking me up 

It's going to be a good morning. 

I opened the window

I'm delighted of what I saw

The rays of sun in the horizon 

Showing its glow. 

What am I to do?

I had the urge to have coffee 

To boost my energy 

To walk, a stride or go for a drive 

It is indeed hard to describe. 

I decided to have coffee 

I feel I am ready 

Got dressed and rugged up

Decided to go for a drive.

 

As I start my car engine 

I heard the Kookaburra laughing 

I reach the foreshore 

Hop out of the car for sure.

I watched the rising sun

Wish all were here to see

This early morning beauty.

Original Copy sent via Messenger 

HOMING PIGEONS

By Crispulo Tappa

Homing Pigeons

From eggs they were hatched, homing pigeons they all are.

They were nurtured, and learned how to fly

Too a destiny meant for them, they wandered far

Some travelled far crossing the vast seven seas

Some stayed close to the nest where life was easy.

But all must come home

to roost one day.

And gladly be pecked and peck each other as they used to do.

But some have failed to come home as homing pigeons must be.

Some have lost feathers,

with broken wings and could no longer fly.

Some have  mated in far places and stayed behind.

Some may have lost their way in this journey called life.

Some may have been sick, and others may have died. 

Some homing pigeons are back to their nest.

Some, robust, with great achievements, their feathers shine bright.

Some, their white feathers sullied with struggles of life.

Some may have been defeathered by storms,

and were lost in the wild.

Some may have failed,

nursing a wounded pride.

Homing pigeons they all are, in spirit and in fact.

Like homing pigeons, we will all return one day

To our creator where this

great life all begun

With our dreams, our ambitions, done

Fly homing pigeons fly,

to our destiny's end.

Home at last!

TIME

By Leah C Dancel

*T*I*M*E*

Time steals my rainbow
The sun loses its glow
When sunset goes out of view
So is my memory of you.

Time heals my wound.
All pains are buried on the ground
While pride knows no bounds
I'm humbled by God's thorny crown.

Time silences my dreams,
Wishful thinking enters in vain
Can't fix things as they're seen
Nothing ever can redeem.

Time hides my shadow
Under the high noon blue
It moves silently into dusk
Till it accomplishes all tasks.

©️ Leah C Dancel
Copyright ©️ 1 September 2023
All rights reserved
SH-AUSTRALIA