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I heard a call from heaven, I saw a fever dream
Of a land my kin would live in and joy would reign supreme.

But the land of the pure has blood in her waters
Of the children she bore, both the sons and the daughters.

There is poison in her air, her streets awash with shame.
How long shall her people suffer these perils in her name ?

Where justice is all but rare for the ones of wealth and fame
and her defenders sold her bare for fortunes and petty gain.

Her clerics were no different, they were but the same.
Men of God with Godless morals, who put us infidels to shame.

So we wait for spring's embrace, in this garden of yours and mine.
But winter is a mighty foe and it hangs on to every vine.
Elymaïs May 24
When my Father was a youth,
— he recalled to me how he
Remembers when all the children
Of the villages and hills
Moved away to the city.
He said that he could walk
Forty kilometres down to town
On abandoned farms alone.

Today I drive the same route
And pass the dilapidated houses
And overgrown fields and lots;
I wonder if the empty windows
Ever miss the ones who left?
SYL Apr 25
042522

Sasapit na naman ang pinakahihintay na araw,
At hindi ito mananatiling sagrado magpakailanman.
Lahat ay mabibigyan ng patas na paghuhusga
At mismong lipunan ang syang magpapasya.

Naririnig ko na ang sigawan sa bawat dako ng gintong kompas
Kung saan ang kanilang hiyawa'y pagkakawatak-watak.
Iba't ibang ideolohiya sa demokratikong bansa
Kailan nga ba matatamasa ang tunay na pagkakaisa?

Sa bawat kulay na sinasabi nilang ito raw ang bukas
Ay ito rin ang gumuguhit sa kasaysayang tayo na't makibaka.
Kaya nga nating kulayan ang ating pagdikta
Ngunit sa ganitong paraan nga lang ba tayo kakalma?

Sa tuwing may mauupo sa trono na kataas-taasan,
Paano nga ba ang ating pagtindig
Para sa sinasabing mahal na bayan?

Pilipinas nga ba ang ating pinipili?
O kung saan lamang tayo kampante
Habang nananatiling mang-uusig.

Iniisip nating tayo'y tunay ngang nasa laylayan na,
Ngunit ito ba'y gumigising sa dugo nating makabayan?
Sapat ba ang ating paghiyaw
Na walang hinihinging basbas mula sa Maykapal?

Sapat ba na tayo-tayo na lamang
Ang naghihilaan pababa't paitaas?
Pagkat mismong pananampalataya'y
Nadudungisan ng pagkawatak-watak.

Bayang Magiliw, Perlas ng Silanganan --
Ikaw ang bansang hinirang ng Pagkataas-taasan.
Panatang makabayan, iniibig ko ang Pilipinas --
Sana'y mapaninidigan kita't maipaglaban
Hanggang sa huling hiningang pahiram lamang.

At hindi ito lotto o binggo,
Hindi tayo nagtataya nang kung sinu-sino.
Ngunit kung sinuman ang maging huling sigaw ng bawat Pilipino
Sana tayo pa ri'y magkaisa para sa dangal na nais nating isulong.

Ating pagkatandaan na kahit noon pa ma'y
May iisang hindi tayo tinalikuran,
Iisang pangalan na may hawak ng bawat kapalaran
Higit pa sa bawat kulay na ating tinatayaan --
At Hesus ang Kanyang ngalan!
Bangon Pilipinas!
The dewy grass makes me miss your lips,
as does the rain clouds.
When I see the baby foxes, your eyes appear,
rusty brown like the tractor outside.

Metal roof, where we lay under,
quietly listening to the drops.
You grasp at my warm waist,
pulling tighter like the loose faucet handle.

I crave your delicate peck against my lips,
like the green truck yearns to start.
My hands run through your hair as we lay
in the soft silence.

Dogs running and coffee cooling,
waiting for the sun to crest the hills.
I want this now, I want this later,
I want this forever.
The smell of fresh summer peaches fill the air,
a willow tree blows gently under a sunny abyss.
Silence fills the caterpillars cocoon and here I lay under the moon.
Hot night, soft breeze, smell of whiskey underneath the trees.
Crops are a grow'n' and the farmers fiddle sits on the hay.
Bonfires, beers and roasting fish on a smear rod snicket.
In the distance the scare crow stands tall and strong to protect the farmers land.
Animals squawk, hibernate and lock themselves in for a winter cold coming ahead.
Snowflakes fall, warm stew to be made by mom, morning comes, cup of chow time to relax with grandpa Jo.
Seasons pass and Spring is here at last,
muddy puddles, ***** feet, time to plant more growing seeds.
Life is beautiful, so is time, make it right and you shall find,
the touch, and warmth of every goodnight
Life's Seasons, Summer to Spring
S R Mats Jun 2021
My granny loved Banny hens.
They are small but they can be feisty.
Just as was she.
Renee Jul 2021
A raccoon, gray tail still intact, head askew across the highway
Left to decompose on the county road, under spring’s thawing sun.
A sadness swells my throat, a differing of points of view
Where wild used to be, the raccoon mistakes concrete for dirt
Headlights for predator eyes, glowing in the complete night
Crushed undertire, underfoot, underpaw—
Sweep his carcass off that once-grass gravel
The fields of wildflowers and sideoats grama
Given way to industrialism, to a streak of urbanization
So far out in the sticks that even the animals do not know
Where the country ends and the city now begins.
Anne Apr 2021
You were already dead
by the time
I was planted in your soil.
Your story is one told to me
through grainy photographs.
Echoed whispers of
peripheral port cities.
Somewhere lovingly untouchable.
My home was once alive.

My stomach lurches
while picturing these
hollow streets,
once filled with laughter.
The harbour
bursting with smiles.
Each neighbour,
a family or friend,
usually both.

How I love this island!
The salted summer's breeze,
hand woven scarlet autumns.
Wild flowers dancing
atop cliff-sides,
free for us
to admire and absorb.
Absorb we did.

I swear my bones
are made of sea-glass.
How could they be
made of anything less?

In their stories,
you are a fairyland.
A cosmically unified olden wood,
dipped in Scotch
and swaddled in wool.

Yet your branches rot,
thinner and damper each year.
Soon the whispers
will be stale air.
No one will be left
to tell tales
of your beautiful youth.

Everything dies.
How I once wished to see
you in your prime.
Even in your postmortem existence,
you've given me
mud to stick my toes into.

I see you
melting into the sea.
I smell your flesh
being swallowed
by bottom feeders.
You are a wonder to me
all the same.
I can't imagine growing up somewhere more beautiful.
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