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 Nov 2015 Clarissa van Vreden
ryn
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  •sharpened to                                  • prowling  this
  a point•made                                     hallowed night
  to sink easily                                      •to satiate my  
    into flesh •                                         hunger   pa-    
     power   to                                            ngs• know    
     maim and                                            my name      
    disjoint•                                            as i take    
       spilling                                             flight  •      
       blood,                        ­                    cower      
          warm                                          as i ba-      
           and                                         re my      
          fre-                                      fan-        
         sh                                   gs        
•                                •
.
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Happy Halloween!
A Birthday Poem for Sally B:
what-matters-can-neither-be-created-or-destroyed

~~~

the principal thing about principles,
like the concept of time,
that in time, with time,
they come to reflect our
immutable essence's own best reflection,
come only, round or square
come only, too little too late
come, too much too soon

so the simpler, the better,
so the matter
of what really matters
needs capture in some
capsulated summary form,
a daily vitamin for the soul

so I thank you for
the gift
of your birthday,
the anibersaryo of a day of naissance,
this one solo, kakaiba,
among the many,
a present presented to the world

*so on this particular day,
we must thank you
for the wonder of wonder
that justifies existence,
for what truly matters

cannot be created or destroyed,

and your matter, mass,
your presence's  Grace upon this earth,
graces the hearts of thousands,
today and forevermore

this is what matters and
can never be recreated,
can never be destroyed...

~~~
Oct. 24, 2015
6:24 am
dispatched from NYC
~~~
Oct 6, 2013      October 20, 2013
The Banyan Tree (A Tribute to Sally)
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."
-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
what's wrong with you ?
they ask me all  the time.
i'm wrong  with me ,
i'm too much to live with .
behind those impenetrable barrier
i saw a beautiful  man wearing black
his face is veiled by white cloth
he seems so lost
the stained blood in his veiled cheek
like he cry a thousand droplets of blood
the dulled in his eyes and the gloomy of the place
i aim to touched and smashed those invisible walls
with the mighty of my own hand
but not even my entire power can resist!
only you can shatter those walls if you're at inside
i attempted to shout at him
'help yourself darling!'
but not even my powerful voice
could penetrated those barriers
i cried at his painful situation
to my horror
he stares at me!
with his icy cold stare
he smiles!
those smile...
i remember those smiles i used to have
he slowly walks into my direction
and touched those invisible barriers
but he didn't attempted to fractured those walls
he talks but i can't comprehend what he whispered
i follow the move on his lips saying
'it's okay. i'm okay here'
he smile again
those painful smile
slowly, he unveiled his face
but what frightened me are
his face!
his looks!
that is me!
what's going on?!
i felt dizzy
maybe my mind is tricking on me!
slowly, my vision became blurry
drifting away in this melancholic place

i black out

©IGMS
the man in my dreams
****** white paper can I tell you my secrets?

Can the blackness that has coloured my heart
Spoil your purity to form stroke lines?

Can
      these
             words paint pictures like painters do on canvases ?

Can these
               tears
                      flow freely like overflowing river banks?

Who do I pay to the order of? , trying to cash these emotional cheques.

                      Square boxes missing check marks

Yes? , No?

Can I tell you a few secrets?
Can a NOUN and Pronoun verb ADVERB?

To which government do I pay syntax?

Will you judge me if I put U before I ?

Pure white paper, I do not understand this language called love.

I'll leave you blank,  
*   even when she aimed at me with with bullets instead.


- Jason R. Johnson
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