JOURNEY

By Rado Gatchalian

if i can rewrite our stories

it won’t matter in the end if there are lies.

the truth is — there is no lying in loving you,

it’s easy to say it: but let time become our judge.

if one day i have to say goobye

may you choose to keep all the good memories.

when it’s time that you will have to give me flowers

there are stars above who will take it on behalf of me.

it doesn’t matter anymore if we had misfortunes

for tomorrow my songs will be played so that you can remember that my heart belongs to you.

if you won’t believe what I say

and you feel the pain inside

and everything is just a lie:

our God knows the content of my heart.

if you choose to close the door

and i can no longer come inside

i am here waiting outside

alone and lonely — but will always love and love.

i cannot blame you for hating me

but i pray that you will one day

forgive and love me again.

if this journey can still continue

i hope that i will have the courage to say goodbye and welcome.

if this journey needs to end

i hope tomorrow will bring a new beginning

 

SEIZE THE DAY

Photo : What A Beautiful Morning 

At home in my backyard 

August 11, 2021

By Melany Amante Mabao Maguindanao

Cool thoughts in my head

Warm feelings from my bed

Waking up to a brand new day

My heart has this much to say

Every sunrise is a surprise

Gratitude before your eyes

A reminder for your heart

Every day is a brand new start

The words that rocked me to sleep

The lullaby that plunged me to deep

Same words that woke me up

For this life, thank you God!

The vast and open sky

A place to live and die

Happiness is spelled each day

Our chance to seize today.

Source : FB 

TO MY MOTHER

By Edgar Allan Poe

To My Mother

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,

The angels, whispering to one another,

Can find, among their burning terms of love,

None so devotional as that of "Mother,"

Therefore by that dear name I long have called you—

You who are more than mother unto me,

And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you

In setting my Virginia's spirit free.

My mother—my own mother, who died early,

Was but the mother of myself; but you

Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,

And thus are dearer than the mother I knew

By that infinity with which my wife

Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.

 

Edgar Allan Poe

1849

Source: Academy of American Poets Educator 

TO HELEN

By Edgar Allan Poe

Helen, thy beauty is to me

    Like those Nicean barks of yore,

That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,

    The weary, way-worn wanderer bore

    To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,

    Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,

Thy Naiad airs have brought me home

    To the glory that was Greece.

And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche

    How statue-like I see thee stand!

    The agate lamp within thy hand,

Ah! Psyche from the regions which

    Are Holy Land!

THE ART OF AGEING GRACEFULLY

Think about it, you have EARNED this face.

Every line, a laugh shared.

Every wrinkle, a year survived.

Every age spot, a day that the sun shone on you.

Some women believe that as they age, they LOSE their looks. Oh my friends how wrong this is.

A beautiful young women is a happy accident of nature but a beautiful older woman? 

She is a work of art.

The Japanese have a practice whereby they fill any broken objects with gold, believing that something which is broken has earned its beauty and should be celebrated and decorated rather than discarded.

I feel this way about women.

It took a long time to find out who you really truly are. A long time. The acceptance that old age brings is freeing. It brings with it peace and happiness. 

Everyone knows, happiness looks good on us all.

Your body has been changing since the day you were born and will continue till the day you depart. Ride with it, accept it, embrace it. Be amazed by it.

Allow your face to represent your life, your stories, your joys.

Why choose to be an older woman fervently chasing youth, when you could be that older women who knows what she is worth and has earned every minute of her hard-won self-acceptance.

The trick with ageing successfully my friend, is to pay as little attention to it as possible.

✨

©Donna Ashworth

From ‘To The Women’

Beautiful art by Autum Skye Autumn Skye ART 

Source: Ladies Pass It On 

via Women Over 60 Australia Friendship Group 

WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS

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

February 19, 2006, QH-Australia) 

Photo: Sky watching at Thirroul 

October 12, 2020

First Post Pandemic Lockdown

At the beach with my family. 

RUN FREE

By Don Luman-ag

#randompoem02

Flowing rivers crystal clear

Chilly cool and clean crisp air

Horses running wild and free

Nature's perfect scenery 

         

Tall majestic mountains blue

Magnificently capped with snow

Breathtaking fresh green meadow

All year round wild flowers grow

Far away from all the cares

Lovely landscapes everywhere 

In this place my mind finds peace 

This is where my soul finds rest

If you would love to run with me

Come let us set our spirits free

Back to the state of purity

Wild unbridled liberty

© Don M. Luman-ag  

12.08.2021

S O R R O W

(Tanka)

Sorrow is a word

That each one of us defines

In different ways

And faced in varied methods

Challenged in number of moods.

It is a feeling

Of loss, regret, guilt and pain

A celebration

Of cold, dark and sleepless nights

Empty days of rain and storm.

It is a love song

Sung in low and mournful tones

A dove’s mourning croon

We don’t wish to hum along

And catch lonesome emotions.

It is a color

Of murky greys, inky blacks

Denotes joy’s absence

To other galaxies flown

Don’t know if it will return.

Lastly, it’s a taste

Of sour lemons, bitter gourd

Sans hint of sweetness

Spiced with salt, the taste of tears

Dashed with hot chili peppers.

© Myr Reyes E. Tejada

14/08/2021

All rights reserved.

Photo from Google

THE SHADOW OF YESTERDAY

Today’s battle is about to end

And time for my soul to mend.

My body worked the whole day

To forget the shadow of yesterday.

As the wings of the night started to creep,

Sadness in my heart submerged in the deep.

I peacefully watched the magnificent sky.

Cottons of gold and tangerine float high.

The birds are fairies of pure joy

As they fly high, invading to deploy.

The tiredness and sadness in my heart

Are dispersed in the air and began to part.

The sea is the mirror of the sky,

Showing its beauty to a passerby.

Sending its waves to the shores

Creating melodious music as it roars.

I sat on the shore and started reminiscing the past.

Sweet beautiful memories, how I wish it would last.

Her smiles, beauty and scent are left on this place.

The dusk, the sea and the sky,  I can see her face.

The birds are singing their best goodnight.

The cold grains of sand are stars bringing light.

The breeze made the sound of the leaves rustling.

The island is my heart where it keeps on beating.

This dusk is my only and lovely lady.

She treated me as her precious baby.

Because tonight, her embracing soothing darkness

Promises a new day that will fill my emptiness.

Photo credit: google

©Jeffrey Cejero

08/13/21

11:40 pm

FPB Member 

FAREWELL, FAREWELL

Photo Frame  by Charito Soliva Dancel

Proverbs 19:21 Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails. 

It wasn't  long ago,

When Nonoy and you 

bade goodbye to your loved ones. 

It was painful beyond grief 

to see you go. 

Tears came running down;

Falling on our countenance.

Sobbing and wailing

consumed our hearts;

We were inconsolable.

We gathered around you 

at each different time;

Gapped by nineteen days

We were forlorned and distressed.

Our prayers  were stifled 

by choking emotions.

Our supplications were heard 

When time was getting near.

The hymns you'd chosen

With heaviness, we sang.

Every song that you remembered, 

Daily you'd ask for us to sing. 

Even in your deathbed 

You still found the strength 

In guiding us the verses 

Of God's promises to which 

you longed to stand.

God's ways are incomprehensible 

To human's earthly understanding. 

They're wrapped in mysteries 

No man will never comprehend.

But only to whom He revealed 

Will find a way that they would be discerned. 

His loving kindness prevails 

And His mercy never fails. 

Sweet is the hour of prayer 

That lulled you into everlasting rest

When slowly as your breath faded 

The Angel came to take you away! 

Today is the fifth month since you left.

The pain we feel, remains unbearable.

It's a thorn that pricks our soul 

A thorn that breaks our hearts apart. 

Farewell to you our Dear Neneng

Forever far,  forever near 

Time will tell 

Till we meet 

Again. 

©Leah C.  Dancel 

March 14, 2021

A Dedicatory Poem 

In tribute to my Twin Siblings 

Eleazar C.  Dancel and 

Priscilla Dancel Bierbaum 

Copyright@2021

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

Comforting Words 

"Farewell is but a temporary phrase

Goodbyes a temporay space

Sooner or later but not too soon

Love will bind both in forever..."

~Winnie Dacoco-Carmona 

"May the Father of compassion and God of all comfort strengthen and comfort your heart in your time of sorrow." ~Vivian M.  Luman-ag

"Prayers I know will somewhat ease

For you to let go your heart's heaviness

The Lord will surely light up your darkest days

And you will savor His mercy and amazing grace."

~Teresita Mariano Barrera 

ANCHORS AWEIGH

Stand Navy out to sea,

Fight our battle cry

We'll never change our course,

So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y.

Roll out the TNT,

Anchors Aweigh.

Sail on to victory

And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!

Anchors Aweigh, my mates,

Anchors Aweigh.

Farewell to foreign shores,

We sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay.

Through our last night ashore,

Drink to the foam,

Until we meet once more.

Here's wishing you a happy voyage home.

Blue of the mighty deep

Gold of God's great sun.

Let these our colors be

Till all of time be done, done, done, done.

On seven seas we learn

Navy's stern call

Faith, courage, service true,

With honor, over honor, over all.

Source: FB via Joffre Balce 

NB - Song taught by our Fourth Year Adviser Miss Evangelina Zosa at 

St. Mary's High School, Marawi City 

circa 1967-1968

Photo by Joffre Balce 

Note:

December 1, 1906, Baltimore Sun. (For those not nautically inclined: The saying "anchor aweigh" means the anchor is no longer touching the bottom and the ship is officially underway

Here's the full story of Anchors Aweigh

The Original Composition as a result of a collaboration between:

Lyrics: Cpt. Alfred H. Miles Music: Lt. Charles A Zimmerman

🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼🎼

Stand Navy down the field, sails set to the sky. We'll never change our course, so Army you steer shy-y-y-y. Roll up the score, Navy, Anchors Aweigh. Sail Navy down the field and sink the Army, sink the Army Grey. Get underway, Navy, Decks cleared for the fray, We'll hoist true Navy Blue So Army down your Grey-y-y-y. Full speed ahead, Navy; Army heave to, Furl Black the Grey and Gold and hoist the Navy, hoist the Navy Blue (Verse 3, added in 1926): Anchors Aweigh, my boys, Anchors Aweigh. Farewell to college joys, we sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay. Through our last night on shore, drink to the foam, Until we meet once more: Here's wishing you a happy voyage home. The revised 1997 lyrics: Stand Navy out to sea, Fight our battle cry; We'll never change our course, So vicious foe steer shy-y-y-y. Roll out the TNT, Anchors Aweigh. Sail on to victory And sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray! Anchors Aweigh, my boys, Anchors Aweigh. Farewell to foreign shores, We sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay. Through our last night ashore, Drink to the foam, Until we meet once more. Here's wishing you a happy voyage home. Blue of the mighty deep: Gold of God's great sun. Let these our colors be Till all of time be done, done, done, done. On seven seas we learn Navy's stern call: Faith, courage, service true, With honor, over honor, over all.

Source: Baltimore Sun

Link :

https://www.baltimoresun.com/features/retro-baltimore/bal-the-origin-of-the-navy-s-anchors-aweigh-20161201-story.html

THE ROCK, THE SEA, THE SKY

By Hedda Tady

Sometimes you are the sea : serene, you flow where the winds take you, creating currents of your own along the way. There are times when you are tumultuous; at other times, you are quiet. 

Sometimes you are the sky; you can choose to let the sun out, or to cover it with clouds. As day comes, so does night. It is a never ending cycle of light and darkness. As it should be. Imagine if you shine light the whole of eternity. Or, if you stayed dark into the end of time. 

Yet, there are also times, when you have to be the rock. There are times when you have to be the one that goes between the ocean and the shore. These are the times when you have to stand your ground and choose not to be somewhere else, regardless of how the waves smash at your edges, no matter how the winds shape you into something else, one small piece at a time. 

The rock.

The sea.

The sky.

One.

Pieces to a puzzle that ultimately merge into the universe that is as insignificant as it is meaningful. 

A beautiful mystery.

If we cared to see, to listen, and to embrace our many forms, at different hours and times of our lives.

Source : Fearless /Hedda Tady 

August 10, 2021

RAIN, SLEET and SNOW

By Leah C. Dancel

Photo: Snow in Orange 

August 10, 2019

Another snow day tomorrow

Will it be deep or shallow?

Will it stay? Or will it go?

Rain, sleet and snow.

The cold snap is all I know

Will it freeze my breath? Or

Will it freeze me to death?

Rain, sleet and snow.

The wind is grating like the teeth of a cog

It's getting stronger by the hour

Harsh, howling like a midnight wolf

In askance of a maiden's hands.

Precipitating tears of sorrow

Turning snowflakes in ephemeral view

In a fleeting moment, they glide

Downward, hitting the ground

And anywhere they land 

By leaps and bounds.

Rain, sleet and snow.

©Leah C. Dancel 

Copyright@2019

Orange NSW

Australia

August 10, 2019

THE DREAM I HAD

Photo: Orange, NSW

On The Street Where I Stayed

Lemmy once again woke me up. 

I turned on the light outside the porch

I peeped through the glass door

Lo and behold

Whiteness blanketed the street

And everywhere

I treaded gently, carefully

With that familiar steps

That I won't slip

Snow! Thin flakes invisible

Still keep coming down

Dancing on the air.

For the last past years

I kept coming for you

Snow at last had me in her heart

Mother Nature's blessed gift

Ahead of my three scores

And ninth day to bliss

Making my long wish to come true

A dream I had twenty years ago

When I gave winter another life

To bless … 

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2019

All rights reserved 

Orange-Australia 

August 10, 2019

COOKING POETRY

Photo: Bulalo 

November 10, 2019

By Crispulo Bacud Tappa 

The teevee is man's best friend 

during lockdowns,

when we are feeling sad, 

unable 

to  move around.

Surfing to find wha'ts fun

and truly entertaining,

we have become couch potatoes 

all day long.

But there's this program

that caught my fancy.

Of children who have

made the kitchen their 

playground, happy.

Cooking dishes under

the master's hands,

and truly they have

become  Master Chefs 

Australia, Junior.

Beyond the judging

and chicanery of cooking

lies a hidden chef's poetry.

The children were poets

garbed in their aprons,

armed with sharp knives,

a plethora of ingredients,

and the menu for the day.

The challenge is to create

a tasteful dish that satiates

the judges' culinary tastes.

And pressured with time

the junior chefs are all agog,

create the dish fit for a king

with an elegant plating

to impress the judges,

all certified master chefs,

with years of experience.

Where is poetry in cooking?

It is in being able to create

a dish out of something.

A work of art that delights

not only an empty stomach

but uplifts a broken spirit.

So is literary poetry.

The poet's challenge 

is to create his literary piece

from thoughts and ideas

and string them like jewel

to satisfy the erudite literati,

who will judge it accordingly.

There is no dish that fails

the master chef's litmus test.

Under his palate, the tastes

of food activates the glands.

It knows what is sweet,

pungent or simply bland.

But the chef also  discerns

good food by its appearance,

when it is tastefully arranged

in a clean plate like art.

These things aren't all the parameters for what is good or bad cooking. Because

what tastes good for the moose 

is badly cooked for the goose.

And so in literary poetry,

there is neither good nor bad poetry

as we have different tastes 

and varying levels of interpretation borne out of our education, 

experience, and love for the art.

Filipino Poets in Blossoms 

August 6, 2021

🍲🍲🍲🍲🍲🍲🍲

ANEJO RUM TO SOUTHERNLAND

Foreword:

Still not in my best, now insomnia is taking its toll. So I revisited my lame poetry. Here's one I wrote for a lame poet sailor. He was supposed to be my fish, but some unloyal sharks took my fish away from me. Oh well as the saying goes, "$%£€" happens. Inday in this poem is the name of the boat in case there will be people who like to jump out into the sea! Hope you'll enjoy the read.

By Leah C. Dancel 

In his hand

Sits a glass

Of Anejo Rum

Shot after shot

He merrily hums.

He osculates with the wind;

As breezy as a jolly friend;

With a shot of Anejo Rum

In his hand,

He skips in comeuppance.

Then slowly,

In manly dignity,

He takes orally

This liquid company;

Cautious not to waste

Its precious droplet

As if it's a clinquant pearl

That hides in the shell.

There's no dripping

While sipping

A glass of Anejo Rum

In his hand

As he stands

on Inday's bow

Right in the middle

Of the Pacific Ocean.

A quirky stranger

With a smirk appears

In folded arms

Quietly watching Inday

Under his cool command

As she drifts with the wind

Of the afternoon swelling tide

The King and Inday glide

Smoothly on a calm sea;

Far away from all the nuisance;

Thinking only of idyllic romance.

The King raises the wings

Of his lone fair lady,

Whose beauty is consumed

By his passion at play.

She curtsies

She obeys

To his every movement

In calculated precision

As he navigates

The familiar sea

With knowing ease

He sails and put her to rest.

Now the helmsman

Feels sombre.

Tho he's bold

And got strong hands;

He becomes feeble

Because of the Anejo Rum

That sits in his hand.

Now he's off to slumberland

And drifting with the wind

In the ocean calm tide.

Where the breezy wind

Is mating his Inday,

In his hand

Is a shot

Of the Anejo Rum.

And they sail

To the southernland.

©Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2012

All rights reserved 

SH-Australia 

19 November 2012

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Versified Comment in Pilipino 

Ni Florencia Dayao:

Anejo Rum

Alak na Masarap,

Naging Modelo niyan

Kapit-bahay kong  tamad.

Dahil sa kagwapuhan,

Alak ay hinimas..

Hindi na masama,

Kumita siya ng limpak- limpak..

Alak na ito'y,

Marami ang naloko.

Naging popular,

Saan mang dako.

Ewan ko ba ,

Kung saan patutungo.

Ang tulang ito,

Nakakahiya...hhhh

Ako'y nahilo....

August 10, 2021

FPB

WINTER BLUES

My old poem, 15 years ago.

Dark clouds descend

Upon my gloomy soul.

Bleeding tears in throes 

My heart breaks apart. 

As night decries its imperious beauty,

No lustre illumines the sky above. 

Ashamed, appalled, aghast;

Stars and moon creep away beyond the blue. 

When dawning stretches at daybreak, 

Comes forth the yawn of sapless hope.

Misty dew sobs beneath the steaming fog;

It dims the tyrant chilly morning haze.

©Leah C. Dancel 

June 18, 2006

QH Australia 

 

Photo: Shaol Bay 

December 16, 2020

ROCK, MY FORTRESS

By Leah C. Dancel

TRILOGY

On top of this big broad rock,
I found a seat to sit upon;
Watching the blue ocean,
Calm and peaceful in its depth;
There’s no trace of vanity.

The waves keep tossing
relentlessly caress the shore.
Every lap sounds a rhapsody
for every note of the wind.

As the waves confront the rocks
They spray in random motion,
Pacing fast, medium and slow,
Each tempo harmoniously flows.

This rock is my throne and my shelter,
Away from the world where I falter;
My fortress from life’s distress,
Here I found solace and peace.

On this big rock I ponder,
What lies ahead and yonder?
Meditating and contemplating
For every travails besetting,
I let them go through the wind.

Copyright@2007, 

©Leah C. Dancel, 

All Rights Reserved
FOT, The Entrance,

NSW Australia

POETS' FARE

By Leah C. Dancel

My trip to Hunter Valley

24 April 2021

How much I find delight in poetry

With verses not long; one liners are best.

Stanzas are trimmed and cut to simpleness

Devoid of pageantry and pompous words.

I love the ones with landscape thoughts;

A portrait only minds can draw or paint.

Instead of pictures, words are inscribed

Designed to amaze, awe and inspire.

I walk along the trail that poets leave

Their stories, like my own, are found on the road of life.

Some are epics of better and mis-spent days

They give lessons to ponder under this covid mess.

Somewhere in between the lines I'm caught

In a trance lost to a forest of all that I believed

Forgetting the time that passes by

I'm soaked, immersed in words of the poets' fare.

Published at The Diary Files - DX-Lab, State Library of New South Wales 

June 9, 2020

SILENCE IN HARMONY OF THE NIGHT

By Leah C Dancel

Photo by permission

What lies in the horizon

Where luminescent sunset streams?
Does it reconcile my restless frame
In cohabitation with silence
And harmonize a dreamy night?

What sets in that iridescent sky?
Where precious heavenly gem emits
Beauty and wisdom of the eventide
A cohort’s advocate of divine insight
Transfigured in a space of endless time.

What draws the opalescent light?
To kiss the incandescent liquid face
And call upon his love in penchant peace?
As sunset drifts to its blissful home
There’s silence in harmony of the night.

Words Copyright@2009, Leah C. Dancel, All rights reserved

Title Credit: Mia N of Finland as inspired by her photography of Sunset.

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

THE BRIDGE

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I stood on the bridge at midnight,

As the clocks were striking the hour,

And the moon rose o'er the city,

Behind the dark church-tower.

I saw her bright reflection

In the waters under me,

Like a golden goblet falling

And sinking into the sea.

And far in the hazy distance

Of that lovely night in June,

The blaze of the flaming furnace

Gleamed redder than the moon.

Among the long, black rafters

The wavering shadows lay,

And the current that came from the ocean

Seemed to lift and bear them away;

As, sweeping and eddying through them,

Rose the belated tide,

And, streaming into the moonlight,

The seaweed floated wide.

And like those waters rushing

Among the wooden piers,

A flood of thoughts came o'er me

That filled my eyes with tears.

How often, oh, how often,

In the days that had gone by,

I had stood on that bridge at midnight

And gazed on that wave and sky!

How often, oh, how often,

I had wished that the ebbing tide

Would bear me away on its bosom

O'er the ocean wild and wide!

For my heart was hot and restless,

And my life was full of care,

And the burden laid upon me

Seemed greater than I could bear.

But now it has fallen from me,

It is buried in the sea;

And only the sorrow of others

Throws its shadow over me.

Yet whenever I cross the river

On its bridge with wooden piers,

Like the odor of brine from the ocean

Comes the thought of other years.

And I think how many thousands

Of care-encumbered men,

Each bearing his burden of sorrow,

Have crossed the bridge since then.

I see the long procession

Still passing to and fro,

The young heart hot and restless,

And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,

As long as the river flows,

As long as the heart has passions,

As long as life has woes;

The moon and its broken reflection

And its shadows shall appear,

As the symbol of love in heaven,

And its wavering image here.

Published in The Belfry of Bruges and Other Poems in 1845.

Source: Poems of Quotes 

A RAINBOW SCARF

Revised Edition

Edited by Jadj Dancel 

A RAINBOW SCARF
(An Ode To Sunsets)

Though we're into the twilight zone;
The sunset has not yet gone;
It lingers long in the horizon,
Waiting for us to come along.
As the ambient light spreads its glow,
A rainbow scarf appears out of the blue.
It decks  the sky in twirling motion;
A gymnast's dream to hold in possession:
A pathos of passion, a prism of triumph.
With sunsets' own capricious power,
No layman can ever fathom.
This moment I'll long to remember.

©️ Leah C Dancel
Copyright ©️ 3 August 2023
All rights reserved
SH-AUSTRALIA

(Revised version from the original
Copyright@ 3 August 2019)

Feedback 

"Beautiful poem with a spectacular

add-on photo of the colorful horizon!" - Susan Dancel Isip 🤩

 

Though we're into a twilight zone;

The sunset hasn't gone down yet;

It lingers long on the horizon,

Waiting for us to come along.

Meanwhile, the sky can't stop

But spread its ethereal glow;

A scarf of love as in a rainbow

For us to remember 

That God is in-charge there.

Our destiny He yet will map

In our hands one day He'll fold

As one soul according to His mould.

Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2019

All rights reserved

August 3, 2019

Australia

Photo: Credit to Estelle Cortes

THE PROMISED LAND

By Yesu Ben

We’ve been cursed to each day pursue

That obscure promised land perhaps

With timeworn maps

Our wearied souls, these wand’ring Jews

Might realize some rest

To revive us in this exhausting quest.

Yet deep within we see and know

That great Truth resides very near 

But ceaseless fears

Hold us in this frozen plateau

To rot and stagnate

Until our purposed drive abates.

This life’s a second opportunity

Prometheus breaking Zeus’ restraints

We are no saints

And sainthood’s an absurdity

In this deficient earth,

A deviousness, of fleeting worths and dearths.

And then we find we’re more intensely bound

For stealing heaven’s apple, Zeus’ fire

Yet we aspire

To rise for there are men like us 

Who’ve finally found

The promised land and obtained peace profound.

August 3, 2020

Poem response to Land, Man and Weather 

LAND, MAN AND WEATHER

Beautiful dawn over at the Wilson's Property in Orange taken during my visit in 9 July 2008.

Photo Credit to Jevie Neri Tan 

By Leah C. Dancel

The man toils the land for a living.

At pre-dawn,  he sets on a lonesome cold journey;

Armed with tools, towel, and victuals. 

His neighbourhood is just a sparse of empty space.

Where he lives is remote and dense woodland;

Under no circumstances,  civilization exists. 

He walks briskly,  whistling,  a solace for company;

While the watchful owl looks on,  nonchalantly agrees.

The colossal tasks ahead are his alone to mind. 

His face shines with delight to see the sunrise

Slowly,  and softly springing out from the east.

He’s enthused by the burgeoning weather fair. 

He sweats blood from morning till twilight drapes the sky;

His labour is not in vain when harvest time comes.

His work is over; happy is he at the close of day! 

The land gives back what the man does to her.

Opulent yields are rewards for his untiring duty.

By gracious weather in all seasons’ due are given. 

Man,  land,  and weather are three vital forces

Inherent stakes for survival in this world of care. 

Man works... 

weather nourishes...and,

land produces! 

Leah C. Dancel

Copyright@2008

All rights reserved

17 March 2008,  

SH NSW Australia 

Dedicated to my Late Grandfather, Juan Casis of Romblon. He's a farmer by day and a fisherman by night.

TRAGEDY

By Leah C. Dancel

I headed to the woods to find myself;

Fogged with sorrow and joy deprived. 

Feeling downtrodden, my heart is heavy 

There I seek solace; in solemn silence, delved. 

The woodland is vast where river runs 

Bubbling mournful songs of a life misunderstood;

Strained through the cracks of rocks 

Down to the stream, its water flows ...

The water feeds the roots of this peculiar view 

A view of a tree with imposing height 

A speared trunk at its junction - cut and wounded; 

Such a deeply cruel act, unredeeming.

How am I supposed to dwell in peace?

To heal my broken heart in this tranquil place;

In the depth of the woods, the wind is cold and eerie;

As it passes by this tall tree, marred by a tragedy. 

©Leah C. Dancel 

SH-Australia 

Dex Amaroso's "Visual Prompt"

July 6, 2021

Note:

(A VISUAL PROMPT for FUN

Using the photo below, I wrote this as a  prompt to create a poem with my imagination running wild and free. I opted for an eerie theme.)