"We are not saints; we are not heroes.
Our lives are lived in the quiet corners of the ordinary.
We build tiny hearth fires,
sometimes barely strong enough to give off warmth.
But to the person lost in the darkness,
our tiny flame may be the road to safety,
the path to salvation.
It is not given to us to know
who is lost in the darkness that surrounds us
or even if our light is seen.
We can only know that
against even the smallest of lights,
darkness cannot stand.
A sailor lost at sea
can be guided home by a single candle.
A person lost in a wood
can be led to safety by a flickering flame.
It is not an issue of quality or intensity or purity.
It is simply an issue of the presence of light."
~Kent Nerburn
Source: "Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace."
30 May 2020
28 May 2020
I AM FILIPINO
By Caloy Bueno
I am Filipino:
Descended from the noble and fiercely freedom-loving Maharlika race ~
From the forgotten ancient lands lost to the mists of time ~
Migrated to the place that formed a jade archipelago, the “Pearl of the Orient Seas”...
I am Filipino:
Molded independently through the crucible of past events down the ages ~
Becoming disparate tribes, according to where we settled in these islands ~
Our brown ancestry the only common bond across the inter-island seas...
I am Filipino:
Our common ancestry scattered over this archipelago runs through my blood ~
My brown skin the only living proof of our ancestral line, and our heritage ~
But intermingled now with the histories of other peoples that came to our jade isles...
I am Filipino:
A complex modern inhabitant of this our beloved Philippine Republic ~
While conflicted internally by many historical influences and debacles ~
We stand outwardly proud of our ancestral heritage, the Filipino identity of our brown unity…
I am Filipino:
Our quarrelsome character with each other grew from our separate development ~
But when we stand as one, we can dream as one, none can stand against us ~
We win as one, standing for one another as much as we rise together…
I am Filipino:
We are all related through our citizenry, our nationality joined in sovereignty ~
To forge our own destiny by the power that we wield with responsibility ~
Redefining ourselves constantly, by refining our aspirations ever closer to each other’s…
I am Filipino:
Realizing that we can only be as strong as we are able to mask our weakest point ~
We recognize that at long last, we now have real leadership strengthening our greatest weakness ~
Our incapacity to cooperate fully, by making the majesty of law finally work in our favor…
I am Filipino:
Each of us are born not with nobility of purpose but the ability to pursue a noble vision ~
Our keenest struggles as men are fought with our minds, hearts and souls ~
Because we believe fate isn’t decreed by predestination, but mainly determined by our character…
I am Filipino:
The hardest virtue we struggle to learn is earning the tranquility of patience ~
The serenity of calm acceptance and tolerance, and the dignity of quiet surrender ~
The surrender to life’s inscrutable wisdom and natural justice, measuring our individual worth and merit…
I am Filipino:
To the mute but clear challenge of our tomorrows, in the house of the future we cannot go ~
Only our children and their children, as the world constantly spins throughout time ~
Our future is our whole country, our individual destinies intertwined, reinforced by our still being…
FILIPINO!
~ 'pag may time 👊🇵ðŸ‡
May 27, 2020
I am Filipino:
Descended from the noble and fiercely freedom-loving Maharlika race ~
From the forgotten ancient lands lost to the mists of time ~
Migrated to the place that formed a jade archipelago, the “Pearl of the Orient Seas”...
I am Filipino:
Molded independently through the crucible of past events down the ages ~
Becoming disparate tribes, according to where we settled in these islands ~
Our brown ancestry the only common bond across the inter-island seas...
I am Filipino:
Our common ancestry scattered over this archipelago runs through my blood ~
My brown skin the only living proof of our ancestral line, and our heritage ~
But intermingled now with the histories of other peoples that came to our jade isles...
I am Filipino:
A complex modern inhabitant of this our beloved Philippine Republic ~
While conflicted internally by many historical influences and debacles ~
We stand outwardly proud of our ancestral heritage, the Filipino identity of our brown unity…
I am Filipino:
Our quarrelsome character with each other grew from our separate development ~
But when we stand as one, we can dream as one, none can stand against us ~
We win as one, standing for one another as much as we rise together…
I am Filipino:
We are all related through our citizenry, our nationality joined in sovereignty ~
To forge our own destiny by the power that we wield with responsibility ~
Redefining ourselves constantly, by refining our aspirations ever closer to each other’s…
I am Filipino:
Realizing that we can only be as strong as we are able to mask our weakest point ~
We recognize that at long last, we now have real leadership strengthening our greatest weakness ~
Our incapacity to cooperate fully, by making the majesty of law finally work in our favor…
I am Filipino:
Each of us are born not with nobility of purpose but the ability to pursue a noble vision ~
Our keenest struggles as men are fought with our minds, hearts and souls ~
Because we believe fate isn’t decreed by predestination, but mainly determined by our character…
I am Filipino:
The hardest virtue we struggle to learn is earning the tranquility of patience ~
The serenity of calm acceptance and tolerance, and the dignity of quiet surrender ~
The surrender to life’s inscrutable wisdom and natural justice, measuring our individual worth and merit…
I am Filipino:
To the mute but clear challenge of our tomorrows, in the house of the future we cannot go ~
Only our children and their children, as the world constantly spins throughout time ~
Our future is our whole country, our individual destinies intertwined, reinforced by our still being…
FILIPINO!
~ 'pag may time 👊🇵ðŸ‡
May 27, 2020
WHERE DO YOU GO?
By Shadowlands
Where do you go?
When you lay down your head,
The eyes have drawn their curtains,
And your lights have been turned off.
You're all cocooned in linen
And silence reigns supreme.
When the ghosts of memories past
Play hopscotch with your senses?
"Where do you go?
When reality has gone on vacation
And your visions are a collection of moments,
Lost through time and space.
When fatigue is like a lead blanket,
The body attempts to heal it's wounds
And the mind tries to tranquilize
The events of the day?"
Where do you go?
When the lights shine on faint recollections
And private thoughts gently cascade
From an overflowing fountain
Of a vivid imagination.
Do you know the path you take.
Or is the destination just as whimsical
As the journey you create
Through your mind's deepest catacombs?
Where do you go indeed?
Source: FB, May 24 2016
Where do you go?
When you lay down your head,
The eyes have drawn their curtains,
And your lights have been turned off.
You're all cocooned in linen
And silence reigns supreme.
When the ghosts of memories past
Play hopscotch with your senses?
"Where do you go?
When reality has gone on vacation
And your visions are a collection of moments,
Lost through time and space.
When fatigue is like a lead blanket,
The body attempts to heal it's wounds
And the mind tries to tranquilize
The events of the day?"
Where do you go?
When the lights shine on faint recollections
And private thoughts gently cascade
From an overflowing fountain
Of a vivid imagination.
Do you know the path you take.
Or is the destination just as whimsical
As the journey you create
Through your mind's deepest catacombs?
Where do you go indeed?
Source: FB, May 24 2016
25 May 2020
GRIEF AND SORROW
"If you're ever going to love me, love me now while I can know.
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I'm living; do not wait 'til I am gone.
And then chisel it on marble - words on ice, cold stone.
If you have dear sweet thoughts about me.
Why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know it would make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken here again,
there will be walls of earth between us and couldn't hear you then.
I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face.
I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit.
Let me know while I am living, so I can own it treasure it."
~Anon
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I'm living; do not wait 'til I am gone.
And then chisel it on marble - words on ice, cold stone.
If you have dear sweet thoughts about me.
Why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know it would make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken here again,
there will be walls of earth between us and couldn't hear you then.
I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face.
I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.
So then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit.
Let me know while I am living, so I can own it treasure it."
~Anon
22 May 2020
DELIGHTING POETRY
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 believe
Forgetting the time that passes by
I'm soaked, immersed in words of the poets' fare.
Leah C. Dancel
Copyright@2020
All rights reserved
May 10, 2020
Australia
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 believe
Forgetting the time that passes by
I'm soaked, immersed in words of the poets' fare.
Leah C. Dancel
Copyright@2020
All rights reserved
May 10, 2020
Australia
17 May 2020
MOTHER
In dedication to my Late Mother and AUNTIE MARY, who recently passed away and by coincidence was buried on my mother's 39th Death Anniversary. May 16th 2020. Auntie is the wife of Uncle Alex who went ahead of time, but years later after my mother was gone. She's 91 years old when she was called to the Eternal Home. My mother died too young just as she had crossed over the bridge of her critical years.
~•✿•~ ~•✿•~
For those lucky to still be blessed with your Mom, this is beautiful.
For those of us who aren't, this is even more beautiful.
For those who are moms, you'll love this:
♥*✿*•♥
"The young mother set her foot on the path of life.
'Is this the long way?' she asked.
And the guide said:
'Yes, and the way is hard
And you will be old before you reach the end of it..
But the end will be better than the beginning.'
But the young mother was happy,
And she would not believe
That anything could be better than these years.
So she played with her children,
And gathered flowers for them along the way,
And bathed them in the clear streams;
And the sun shone on them,
And the young Mother cried,
'Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.'
Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark,
And the children shook with fear and cold,
And the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle,
And the children said,
'Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.'
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead,
And the children climbed and grew weary,
And the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children,
'A little patience and we are there.'
So the children climbed,
and when they reached the top they said,
'Mother, we would not have done it without you.'
And the mother, when she lay down at night
Looked up at the stars and said,
'This is a better day than the last,
For my children have learned fortitude
in the face of hardness.
Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today, I've given them strength.'
And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth,
Clouds of war and hate and evil,
And the children groped and stumbled,
And the mother said:
'Look up.
Lift your eyes to the light.'
And it guided them beyond the darkness.
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years,
And the mother grew old and she was little and bent.
But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.
And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
For she was as light as a feather;
And at last they came to a hill,
And mother said,
'I have reached the end of my journey.
And now I know the end is better than the beginning,
For my children can walk alone, and their children after them.'
And the children said,
'You will always walk with us,
She went on alone,
and the gates closed after her.
And they said:
'We cannot see her but she is with us still. '
Author Anon
~•✿•~ ~•✿•~
For those lucky to still be blessed with your Mom, this is beautiful.
For those of us who aren't, this is even more beautiful.
For those who are moms, you'll love this:
♥*✿*•♥
"The young mother set her foot on the path of life.
'Is this the long way?' she asked.
And the guide said:
'Yes, and the way is hard
And you will be old before you reach the end of it..
But the end will be better than the beginning.'
But the young mother was happy,
And she would not believe
That anything could be better than these years.
So she played with her children,
And gathered flowers for them along the way,
And bathed them in the clear streams;
And the sun shone on them,
And the young Mother cried,
'Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.'
Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was dark,
And the children shook with fear and cold,
And the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle,
And the children said,
'Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.'
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead,
And the children climbed and grew weary,
And the mother was weary.
But at all times she said to the children,
'A little patience and we are there.'
So the children climbed,
and when they reached the top they said,
'Mother, we would not have done it without you.'
And the mother, when she lay down at night
Looked up at the stars and said,
'This is a better day than the last,
For my children have learned fortitude
in the face of hardness.
Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today, I've given them strength.'
And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth,
Clouds of war and hate and evil,
And the children groped and stumbled,
And the mother said:
'Look up.
Lift your eyes to the light.'
And it guided them beyond the darkness.
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years,
And the mother grew old and she was little and bent.
But her children were tall and strong, and walked with courage.
And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
For she was as light as a feather;
And at last they came to a hill,
And mother said,
'I have reached the end of my journey.
And now I know the end is better than the beginning,
For my children can walk alone, and their children after them.'
And the children said,
'You will always walk with us,
She went on alone,
and the gates closed after her.
And they said:
'We cannot see her but she is with us still. '
Author Anon
16 May 2020
FRIENDSHIP WITHOUT ENVY
Where in this wide world can man
find nobility without pride,
Friendship without envy,
Or beauty without vanity?
Here, where grace is served
with muscle..
And strength by gentleness
confined …
By Ronald Duncan
find nobility without pride,
Friendship without envy,
Or beauty without vanity?
Here, where grace is served
with muscle..
And strength by gentleness
confined …
By Ronald Duncan
THE LAST TWIST OF KNIFE
The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Be ready for life
the last twist of the knife
By YESU BEN
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Be ready for life
the last twist of the knife
By YESU BEN
A MEDITATION OF A TRAVELER (Part II)
by Rado Gatchalian
With all the searching and looking —
What shall I find?
Everything and nothing.
Alone in the dark yet accompanied by the light.
Of all the luminous things:
How shall I measure wisdom?
As I move from low to high
And from known to unknown —
Shall I remain like an empty cup?
Will I endure this test of life
And become a child forever?
Shall I embrace silence like a brother to me?
How shall I step toward that peaceful beauty
If what is spoken cannot be heard?
Like a star in a quiet night:
Soon, we shall all shine so bright.
Source: Poem and Photography
With all the searching and looking —
What shall I find?
Everything and nothing.
Alone in the dark yet accompanied by the light.
Of all the luminous things:
How shall I measure wisdom?
As I move from low to high
And from known to unknown —
Shall I remain like an empty cup?
Will I endure this test of life
And become a child forever?
Shall I embrace silence like a brother to me?
How shall I step toward that peaceful beauty
If what is spoken cannot be heard?
Like a star in a quiet night:
Soon, we shall all shine so bright.
Source: Poem and Photography
13 May 2020
SHE WHO LOVES THE BEACH
By Suzy Toronto
No words can express,
The depth of her contentment,
As she walks along the beach.
As the waves lap against the shores,
They create the rhythm of her life,
Balmy breezes kiss,
Her sun-bronzed skin,
And she wonders …
Could there ever be a greater destiny,
Than to be born with a love,
For the treasures of the sea?
Here, she is home.
Source: Journey to Peace
No words can express,
The depth of her contentment,
As she walks along the beach.
As the waves lap against the shores,
They create the rhythm of her life,
Balmy breezes kiss,
Her sun-bronzed skin,
And she wonders …
Could there ever be a greater destiny,
Than to be born with a love,
For the treasures of the sea?
Here, she is home.
Source: Journey to Peace
10 May 2020
A PSALM OF LIFE
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
Source: Poets dot org
(1807-1882)
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
Source: Poets dot org
4 May 2020
TO FEEL ALIVE
From the Lessons Learned In Life
I want to go on a road trip someday.
Alone or with someone I love.
I want to get away.
Explore places.
Stop a lot just to admire the view.
Visit museums and try out coffee shops.
Listen to my favourite music while driving.
Have a camera.
Take pretty pictures of the sunrise.
Take pictures of myself.
Run through a forest.
Chase fog.
Chase the sun.
Spend hours on a field making flower crowns.
Feel the wind in my hair.
Buy souvenirs.
Meet people.
Take time to observe.
I want to make memories.
I want to feel alive.
I want to go on a road trip someday.
Alone or with someone I love.
I want to get away.
Explore places.
Stop a lot just to admire the view.
Visit museums and try out coffee shops.
Listen to my favourite music while driving.
Have a camera.
Take pretty pictures of the sunrise.
Take pictures of myself.
Run through a forest.
Chase fog.
Chase the sun.
Spend hours on a field making flower crowns.
Feel the wind in my hair.
Buy souvenirs.
Meet people.
Take time to observe.
I want to make memories.
I want to feel alive.
I SEE YOU
"I see your strength and courage,
Your hesitations and fears.
I see the way you love others, and
Your struggle to love yourself.
I see how hard you work to grow,
And your dedication to heal.
I see your vulnerable humanity,
And your transcendent divinity.
I see you, and
I love what I see!"
~Anon
Your hesitations and fears.
I see the way you love others, and
Your struggle to love yourself.
I see how hard you work to grow,
And your dedication to heal.
I see your vulnerable humanity,
And your transcendent divinity.
I see you, and
I love what I see!"
~Anon
2 May 2020
THE KOALA
Poem by Francis Duggan
He's not been known to expend energy
Spends most of his life on high branch of gum tree
Scratching his ears and sitting on his bum
And feasting on the leaves of manna gum.
Whilst other creatures run and sport all day
He eat and sleep and doze his life away.
He's not been known to expend energy
Spends most of his life on high branch of gum tree
Scratching his ears and sitting on his bum
And feasting on the leaves of manna gum.
Whilst other creatures run and sport all day
He eat and sleep and doze his life away.
Small eyes, big ears and button type dark nose
All night and day he sleep and eat and doze.
By white man hunted to extinction brink
The Koala, Aboriginal for 'no drink'
The creeks all dry and no water about
But Koala not been known to die in drought.
And I've been told that their numbers on increase
That conservationist gave to them a new life lease
And it's thanks to those, to those who genuinely care
That Australian wood still has it's 'native bear'.
A cuddly looking creature like big cuddly toy
And i have always felt a sense of joy
The few times I've been lucky enough to see
A koala up on high branch of gum tree.
All night and day he sleep and eat and doze.
By white man hunted to extinction brink
The Koala, Aboriginal for 'no drink'
The creeks all dry and no water about
But Koala not been known to die in drought.
And I've been told that their numbers on increase
That conservationist gave to them a new life lease
And it's thanks to those, to those who genuinely care
That Australian wood still has it's 'native bear'.
A cuddly looking creature like big cuddly toy
And i have always felt a sense of joy
The few times I've been lucky enough to see
A koala up on high branch of gum tree.
30 April 2020
THE AGE OF AWAKENING
By Rado Gatchalian
What is done cannot be undone
But every step we do now
Determines our tomorrow.
We are unprepared
Everything seems to float and flout—
Until we realise something is wrong.
If it is never too late
Or if it is not too much to ask:
STOP, LOOK, AND LISTEN
(Can we do our part?).
The future rests in our hands:
Let’s make it clean
Literally and metaphorically.
We are confronted with a self-examination —
Everyone seems to (mis)understand:
Man becomes a parasite to his own kind.
(But we are better than that).
Let numbers awaken our mind —
One death is too much to bear.
When our loved ones start wailing:
Will this let us stop and listen?
When everything is lost
And everything is taken for granted:
Time is telling us:
STOP. LOOK. AND LISTEN.
When we do:
We become wise.
Then, the world
Becomes a better place to thrive.
Source: The Philippine Community Herald Newspaper
April 30, 2020
What is done cannot be undone
But every step we do now
Determines our tomorrow.
We are unprepared
Everything seems to float and flout—
Until we realise something is wrong.
If it is never too late
Or if it is not too much to ask:
STOP, LOOK, AND LISTEN
(Can we do our part?).
The future rests in our hands:
Let’s make it clean
Literally and metaphorically.
We are confronted with a self-examination —
Everyone seems to (mis)understand:
Man becomes a parasite to his own kind.
(But we are better than that).
Let numbers awaken our mind —
One death is too much to bear.
When our loved ones start wailing:
Will this let us stop and listen?
When everything is lost
And everything is taken for granted:
Time is telling us:
STOP. LOOK. AND LISTEN.
When we do:
We become wise.
Then, the world
Becomes a better place to thrive.
Source: The Philippine Community Herald Newspaper
April 30, 2020
THE AGE OF ANXIETY
By Rado Gatchalian
There’s a death waiting on a solitary bed,
Behold, the next day is afraid of every breath.
Will we contain our misery in this unusual night
Or sleep without consuming any dream?
We become crippled, jobless, and sick —
The only faith is to live and give and live.
We look at the sky, we see an empty feeling,
Yet at this age of darkness, stars give us peace.
How shall we wait when death is waiting as well?
We say a little prayer — and — we wait for answers.
The crown intoxicates everything, everywhere,
It weakens our body — and — everyone is silent.
Like a violet moon hiding from her own fear —
A child becomes old; the old, a helpless child.
One day when all of these are done and gone:
It will be a story for our daughters and sons.
When all our untold dreams become myth
(Time, time is our only safekeeping).
Be afraid but never surrender
Be at peace but continue to love others.
Soon: when this suffering ends
A new, refreshed, life begins.
Source: The Philippine Community Herald Newspaper
April 30, 2020
There’s a death waiting on a solitary bed,
Behold, the next day is afraid of every breath.
Will we contain our misery in this unusual night
Or sleep without consuming any dream?
We become crippled, jobless, and sick —
The only faith is to live and give and live.
We look at the sky, we see an empty feeling,
Yet at this age of darkness, stars give us peace.
How shall we wait when death is waiting as well?
We say a little prayer — and — we wait for answers.
The crown intoxicates everything, everywhere,
It weakens our body — and — everyone is silent.
Like a violet moon hiding from her own fear —
A child becomes old; the old, a helpless child.
One day when all of these are done and gone:
It will be a story for our daughters and sons.
When all our untold dreams become myth
(Time, time is our only safekeeping).
Be afraid but never surrender
Be at peace but continue to love others.
Soon: when this suffering ends
A new, refreshed, life begins.
Source: The Philippine Community Herald Newspaper
April 30, 2020
29 April 2020
WE ARE THE FLUTE
We are as the flute, and the music in us is from thee;
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!
Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?
We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.
We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.
Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!
Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.
By Rumi
Translated by: A..J. Arberry
'Persian Poems', an Anthology of verse translations edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman's Library, 1972
we are as the mountain and the echo in us is from thee.
We are as pieces of chess engaged in victory and defeat:
our victory and defeat is from thee, O thou whose qualities are comely!
Who are we, O Thou soul of our souls,
that we should remain in being beside thee?
We and our existences are really non-existence;
thou art the absolute Being which manifests the perishable.
We all are lions, but lions on a banner:
because of the wind they are rushing onward from moment to moment.
Their onward rush is visible, and the wind is unseen:
may that which is unseen not fail from us!
Our wind whereby we are moved and our being are of thy gift;
our whole existence is from thy bringing into being.
By Rumi
Translated by: A..J. Arberry
'Persian Poems', an Anthology of verse translations edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman's Library, 1972
27 April 2020
FOR THE FALLEN
By Laurence Binyon
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
WWI 1914
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
WWI 1914
26 April 2020
AUSTRALIA
by David Whyte
The light has come to find you again,
even on the far side of the waking world,
look inland and you catch the dark interior
core of what only looks like an empty centre,
look outward and you see the tidal run
of ocean stretching forever from the shore
on which you stand, above all and across both,
newness and the unimaginably ancient, singing together,
and then everywhere, light painted on light, in the sky,
on the ground and in the faces of those looking
not at you but through you, to the beckoning horizon,
to the pale night of a southern sapphire sky,
or even beneath you, through the dust of the endless earth,
to the dream-time in the mind’s eye of what has happened
and what is about to happen, even in the crowded cities,
even on the endless coast, even in the beautiful interior
desolations that never grew a single tree, we feel it when we hear
the growing whisper of rain feeding the parched ground,
or in the inward growth that makes what has been hidden
begin to show its face in the world, the unspoken sense,
not of being free now, but the anticipation of being allowed
into something deeper, further, beyond our living in the everyday,
into the beckoning endless land, into the blue-hilled horizon,
into the oceans mounting roar, an unspoken and indescribable freedom
just about to happen, reaching for the fatal shore, we ride
the slow, curling, but never breaking wave of our longed for arrival.
...
'Australia' © David Whyte 2015 and 2016
Walking the Shore Byron Bay,
Australia, April 25th 2016
Source: FB
The light has come to find you again,
even on the far side of the waking world,
look inland and you catch the dark interior
core of what only looks like an empty centre,
look outward and you see the tidal run
of ocean stretching forever from the shore
on which you stand, above all and across both,
newness and the unimaginably ancient, singing together,
and then everywhere, light painted on light, in the sky,
on the ground and in the faces of those looking
not at you but through you, to the beckoning horizon,
to the pale night of a southern sapphire sky,
or even beneath you, through the dust of the endless earth,
to the dream-time in the mind’s eye of what has happened
and what is about to happen, even in the crowded cities,
even on the endless coast, even in the beautiful interior
desolations that never grew a single tree, we feel it when we hear
the growing whisper of rain feeding the parched ground,
or in the inward growth that makes what has been hidden
begin to show its face in the world, the unspoken sense,
not of being free now, but the anticipation of being allowed
into something deeper, further, beyond our living in the everyday,
into the beckoning endless land, into the blue-hilled horizon,
into the oceans mounting roar, an unspoken and indescribable freedom
just about to happen, reaching for the fatal shore, we ride
the slow, curling, but never breaking wave of our longed for arrival.
...
'Australia' © David Whyte 2015 and 2016
Walking the Shore Byron Bay,
Australia, April 25th 2016
Source: FB
18 April 2020
14 April 2020
EFFERVESCENT MEMORIES
Like little bubbles of frozen thoughts
They float about in a sea of time
Full and plump at their birth
Withered and frail into oblivion
These are the memories of our lives
Treasured and stored for reflection
But left neglected they vanish
Forgotten and lost with time.
Once into the dark void they reach
No power can restore them
So keep your memories effervescent
And hold on to the true essence of you.
By Shadowlands
April 12. 2016
They float about in a sea of time
Full and plump at their birth
Withered and frail into oblivion
These are the memories of our lives
Treasured and stored for reflection
But left neglected they vanish
Forgotten and lost with time.
Once into the dark void they reach
No power can restore them
So keep your memories effervescent
And hold on to the true essence of you.
By Shadowlands
April 12. 2016
13 April 2020
THE WEATHER OF LOVE
Love
Has a way of wilting
Or blossoming
At the strangest,
Most unpredictable hour.
This is how love is,
An uncontrollable beast
In the form of a flower.
The sun does not always shine on it.
Nor does the rain always pour on it
Nor should it always get beaten by a storm.
Love does not always emit the sweetest scents,
And sometimes it can sting with its thorns.
Water it.
Give it plenty of sunlight.
Nurture it,
And the flower of love will
Outlive you.
Neglect it or keep dissecting it,
And its petals will quickly curl up and die.
This is how love is,
Perfection is a delusional vision.
So love the person who loves you
Unconditionally,
And abandon the one
Who only loves you
Under favorable
Conditions.
By Suzy Kassem,
(Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem)
Has a way of wilting
Or blossoming
At the strangest,
Most unpredictable hour.
This is how love is,
An uncontrollable beast
In the form of a flower.
The sun does not always shine on it.
Nor does the rain always pour on it
Nor should it always get beaten by a storm.
Love does not always emit the sweetest scents,
And sometimes it can sting with its thorns.
Water it.
Give it plenty of sunlight.
Nurture it,
And the flower of love will
Outlive you.
Neglect it or keep dissecting it,
And its petals will quickly curl up and die.
This is how love is,
Perfection is a delusional vision.
So love the person who loves you
Unconditionally,
And abandon the one
Who only loves you
Under favorable
Conditions.
By Suzy Kassem,
(Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem)
A MEDITATION OF A TRAVELER
by Rado Gatchalian
In my heart I found the stone
That shall make me bold and strong;
In here I come to my senses
Of my own brief life and death.
If I can travel from here to there
I shall reside to the depths of my heart.
As glimpse of light uncovers my contempt
Here in my shadow I shall resurrect.
If I shall be a brother to a cause
Let me unfold my breast for me to rise,
Like an empty child looking for his father
Each day becomes an oath to remember.
When time as profound as infinite sky
Asks me to choose between a slave and a master,
I shall pray solemnly that I find in myself
The full measurement of who we are.
And when this journey comes to an end:
Life and death, faith and wonder, all become one.
Source: The FILOsopher/10 April 2020
In my heart I found the stone
That shall make me bold and strong;
In here I come to my senses
Of my own brief life and death.
If I can travel from here to there
I shall reside to the depths of my heart.
As glimpse of light uncovers my contempt
Here in my shadow I shall resurrect.
If I shall be a brother to a cause
Let me unfold my breast for me to rise,
Like an empty child looking for his father
Each day becomes an oath to remember.
When time as profound as infinite sky
Asks me to choose between a slave and a master,
I shall pray solemnly that I find in myself
The full measurement of who we are.
And when this journey comes to an end:
Life and death, faith and wonder, all become one.
Source: The FILOsopher/10 April 2020
HELD, NOT HEALED
Stop trying to heal yourself, fix yourself,
even awaken yourself.
Stop trying to Fast-Forward the movie of your life.
Let go of 'letting go'.
Healing is not a destination.
Be here.
Your pain, your sorrow, your doubts, your longings,
your fearful thoughts: they are not mistakes,
and they are not asking to be 'healed'.
They are asking to be held.
Here, now, lightly, in the loving,
healing arms of present awareness…
By Jeff Foster
even awaken yourself.
Stop trying to Fast-Forward the movie of your life.
Let go of 'letting go'.
Healing is not a destination.
Be here.
Your pain, your sorrow, your doubts, your longings,
your fearful thoughts: they are not mistakes,
and they are not asking to be 'healed'.
They are asking to be held.
Here, now, lightly, in the loving,
healing arms of present awareness…
By Jeff Foster
DESCENT
I made a far journey
Earth's fair cities to view,
but like to love's city
City none I knew
At the first I knew not
That city's worth,
And turned in my folly
A wanderer on earth.
From so sweet a country
I must needs pass,
And like to cattle
Grazed on every grass.
As Moses' people
I would liefer eat
Garlic, than manna
And celestial meat.
What voice in this world
to my ear has come
Save the voice of love
Was a tapped drum.
Yet for that drum-tap
From the world of All
Into this perishing
Land I did fall.
That world a lone spirit
Inhabiting.
Like a snake I crept
Without foot or wing.
The wine that was laughter
And grace to sip
Like a rose I tasted
Without throat or lip.
'Spirit, go a journey,
' Love's voice said:
'Lo, a home of travail
I have made.'
Much, much I cried:
'I will not go';
Yea, and rent my raiment
And made great woe.
Even as now I shrink
To be gone from here,
Even so thence
To part I did fear.
'Spirit, go thy way,
' Love called again,
'And I shall be ever nigh thee
As they neck's vein.'
Much did love enchant me
And made much guile;
Love's guile and enchantment
Capture me the while.
In ignorance and folly
When my wings I spread,
From palace unto prison
I was swiftly sped.
Now I would tell
How thither thou mayst come;
But ah, my pen is broke
And I am dumb.
By Rumi
Translated by: A..J. Arberry
'Persian Poems', an Anthology of verse translations edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman's Library, 1972
Earth's fair cities to view,
but like to love's city
City none I knew
At the first I knew not
That city's worth,
And turned in my folly
A wanderer on earth.
From so sweet a country
I must needs pass,
And like to cattle
Grazed on every grass.
As Moses' people
I would liefer eat
Garlic, than manna
And celestial meat.
What voice in this world
to my ear has come
Save the voice of love
Was a tapped drum.
Yet for that drum-tap
From the world of All
Into this perishing
Land I did fall.
That world a lone spirit
Inhabiting.
Like a snake I crept
Without foot or wing.
The wine that was laughter
And grace to sip
Like a rose I tasted
Without throat or lip.
'Spirit, go a journey,
' Love's voice said:
'Lo, a home of travail
I have made.'
Much, much I cried:
'I will not go';
Yea, and rent my raiment
And made great woe.
Even as now I shrink
To be gone from here,
Even so thence
To part I did fear.
'Spirit, go thy way,
' Love called again,
'And I shall be ever nigh thee
As they neck's vein.'
Much did love enchant me
And made much guile;
Love's guile and enchantment
Capture me the while.
In ignorance and folly
When my wings I spread,
From palace unto prison
I was swiftly sped.
Now I would tell
How thither thou mayst come;
But ah, my pen is broke
And I am dumb.
By Rumi
Translated by: A..J. Arberry
'Persian Poems', an Anthology of verse translations edited by A.J.Arberry, Everyman's Library, 1972
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