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And Gaza Says," O the Sons of Adam
The people of Moses
The people of Muhammad
Stop Will You?

I feel the Tankers on my body
They are trampling me

I hear the Missiles
They pierce through My Soul

I see the tearful Widows
the cries of the children
Fear in the Eyes
the Funerals

I hear the pleas
I hear the screams
the cries for help
the prayers
the curses
the complaints to the Almighty

Blood is Smeared on to My Face
Human blood- a Precious blood
The blood of Adam

I am ploughed
often daily
to bury the lifeless
the young
the old
the men
the women
the infants

I see debris,destruction
the helplessness

I feel the hatred
in your hearts
your words
translated through your actions

I wonder
Why are the innocents paying the price
of this War?

O Sons of Adam
O the Sons of Abraham
Don't Forget
O You the People of Moses
O You the People of Jesus
O You the People of Muhammad
Your Lord
Your God
is but One

Fear Him

He hates Oppression

Did you all
the Fate of the Pharaoh?

the Worst of the Oppressors."

( Peace be Upon All the Prophets)
Stand Up for GAZA Stand Up for Humanity
I never got to meet my father...
He died when I was nine months old,
But his presence, I always felt
While I was growing up,
Even up to this day...

He would often visit me in my dreams,
Told me not to worry or despair,
Took my hand,
Told me I could go with him..
Which I almost did...

A few times, in high school
I felt a light push on my back
When my Home Economics teacher
Almost caught me nodding...I was
Too bored, to focus on her sewing lessons...

I was always saved from falling
Each time I climbed the guava tree...
I feel some kind of force stopping me,
Standing ahead of me,
Whenever I cross the street, even now...

My late aunt said she found me
Looking up and giggling
When at three or five years old,
I played by myself beside
My father's tall and sturdy book case...

I see his face when I go through
His dwindling collection of
Edgar Allan Poe books, including his
Law books, and a few western pocketbooks left,
All, with mottled pages now...

The matrimonial bed he shared
With my late mother is still in use...
His portrait is hung on our wall...
Today, the fifteenth of June, his birthday,
I look through his eyes, and-----

In silence, I greet him,
"Happy birthday, papa,
Happy Father's Day, as well."
In my mind, my father lives,
And my own stories of him therein dwells...


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Happy Father's Day to all fathers here on HP! ***
May bagong emosyon na sumisibol,
May bagong sakuna na nagsisimula.
Kailangan itong mapigilan ng aking Isipan
Bago pa 'to maunahan ng aking Puso
Na tumitibok, tumitibok,
Pabilis ng pabilis
Tuwing naaalala ko ang
Himig ng kanyang tawa
at hugis ng kanyang ngiti.

Kailangan nitong mahinto
Ngayon din.

O Puso, sulong!
Lumaki at lumago.
Hanggang ngayon isa ka pa ring musmos na bata:
Mapaglaro at mapagbiro.
Walang nalalamang masamang hangarin ngunit
Wala ring sinusundan na mabuting tuntunin.

O Puso, urong...
Kapag may naghahamon sa iyo.
Dahil nga isang bata ka pa rin,
Matulog ka lang ng mahimbing.
Huwag kang lumaban,
Sumabay lang sa agos ng tadhana.
Maawa ka naman sa sarili mo
Huwag ngayon,
Huwag muna.
Once again this is just an exaggeration because everything sounds so deep and serious in Filipino waaaaah
you make me

no warm greeting and bright smile
can thaw your heart
enfolded in ice.
i thought
maybe there's a blizzard blazing in your mind,
burying your hopes in depths of snow
and you've grown
too cold and too numb
to notice.

at the short second you met my gaze,
i saw that your once bright brown eyes
now had a deep shade of blue:
painted with fear and anxiety.
and as you flicked your head away
i felt a chilly gale,
so frigid
it's enough to make any hot blood crystallize

who knew that your silence to me
can sound like a ravaging avalanche, crashing

i don't
want to touch you
for i'm afraid that i would
unable to move
on and swallow the cold hard fact that
you really do
not care
for me
at all.

so i'll just huddle to myself,
stay frozen,
and shiver
as i think of the catastrophe
that has happened
to you
and of you.
We could scale
snow capped mountains
or tiled rooftops
We could stroll
the halls of grand art galleries
or the city's graffiti stained alleys
We could sip
wine from elegant glass goblets
or instant coffee from chipped cups
We could watch
gala operas and musicals at the amphitheater
or puffy clouds as they float by in the sky
We could look
up to the vast galaxy and its starlight
or down to the metro's sleepless city lights
We could listen
to loud pulsing rhythms at a concert
or to the steady beats of each others hearts
We could go
and roam the world all day
or just stay in each others arms all night.

I can't care less
on what we could do.
Every moment would be
Grand, and
As long as you are with me
and I am with you.
I came up with the concept of this poem last year but I only found the right words to compose it now. I forgot what inspired this poem in the first place though.....
I must have compared you
To the dawning glow of June.
For the  glitters of glow
Blown across the horizon

Are reasons to celebrate
The silence sunken deep
Within our oceans of memories.
I must have compared you

To the glowing dawn of June.
For you are the bride of this
Life's  fate and faith to the
Galaxies of hearts, of a

Universe inside.
For Khiwai.
A coffee stain on my poetry,
Pottery of shadows showered

Along the hallow pavements
Of my memory.

Each has its own reason for
Being, there and here.

Not until the skyline has been
Invaded by the dawn,

And a new beginning is another
Closing of meanings.

Not until the skyline has been
Invaded by the dawn,

And a new meaning is another
Madness of being.
University of the Philippines---Diliman
Quezon City, Philippines
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