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George Krokos Jan 31
The birds in the backyard often look there for food
and it seems they're doing so lately in a happier mood;
it was just the other day when I mowed the grass
so now they can move easily over it again and pass.
Their activity is done habitually each and every day
and watching them closely seems as if they're at play.

They scrounge on the soil with their beaks and feet
competing at times for some bite and morsel to eat.
When disturbed by a sound they fly up into any tree
away from the threat of danger they scamper and flee.
A human presence would be enough to get them going
particularly when heading in their direction knowing.

It's a bit of a delight to see them at play in their quest
doing what they all have to do to survive hunger's test.
I used to feed them some crumbs on a regular basis
which became a habit for me to them as in an oasis.
Together with water left in a plastic bowl for a drink
they'd a few things going for them one would think.

It was only after the local cats caught onto the idea
with their basic instinct, that food or game, was near.
One of them would come around and hide in the grass
crouching there patiently for the right moment to pass;
if the birds were unaware they would fly down to eat
of the crumbs left for them so their hunger could beat.

The cat seizing on the opportunity then would by surprise
spring up and race after them as food or game in its eyes.
There would be a mad scramble and loud flutter of wings
as the birds, escaping from that danger a predator brings,
would scatter and fly away as fast as they could to where
they'd be relatively safe from the clutches of death there.

Sometimes when looking out the back window I'd see
a cat roaming in the backyard in the shadows of a tree;
this would be enough warning for me to raise the alarm
and get out to try and keep those local birds from harm.
I would do this by chasing the cat away over the fence
so the area would be clear again for the birds I'd sense.
_____
Written in December, 2020
Tell me why indigenous
seems so obsolete?
Thoughts in the genius
whose sense is up so late

Why originality
seem so fake?
And off-reality
is worth the take?

It might not seem its best
nor have the Sauce
Not in Vogue as the rest
But it's the source


-Pastorlee
I choose #originality
#indigenousSombodi
your #LocalBoy

#ipoet
Krysha Oct 2020
Labimpito ako nang unang matutunan
ang kaliitan ng pag-ibig.
Madalas hindi ito bulalakaw sa dibdib,
bumubulusok at rumaragasa.
Hindi paputok o dinamitang pailaw
sa dilim ng kagabihan ng pusong isa.
Hindi isang maringal na pagtatapat
ng katipan. Hindi isang pangako ng
isang libong bukas sa oras ng ngayon.
Hindi mga bibig na tumatapos ng
pangungusap ng isa.
Hindi mga katawan na lumulutang.
Labimpito ako nang magkaroon
ng aso sa bahay.
Labimpito rin nang magsimulang
maglagay ng tisyu
tuwing naggugupit ng mga kuko
dahil sa takot na masaludsod ang tuta
kapag hinayaang tumalsik ang mga putol
na kuko sa kung saang sulok ng silid.
Minsa'y pag-ibig ay tahimik sa gilid.
supman Jun 2020
https://web.facebook.com/bstrdsPH/

This is not poem related but I hope you can support my business.

I am utterly new in the industry and your support is very much appreciated.

Please, like the Facebook page of my clothing line.

Thank you and God bless.
Marg Balvaloza Jan 2019
Bumalik tayo kung saan...
Paano nga ba nagsimula?
Nagsimulang ang mga pangamba ko ay mawala,
nagsimulang pangamba ay mapalitan ng pag-asa't pagtitiwala.
Mga pagluha sa aking mata, ay tila naglaho na
Napalitan ng pagtawa, lumbay ay lumisan na.

Paano nga ba nagsimula?
Mamuhay nang kasama ka
Sa mga araw na kapiling ka—- bawat araw ay puno ng galak at pagsinta.
Tinuruan mo akong, mamuhay nang may saya
Pait ng kahapon ay naitapon na,
mula nang ikaw ang makasama ko, sinta.
Samahang walang papantay, punung-puno ng buhay!
Pag-aalaga ay damang-dama, suporatado ang isa't-isa.

Paano nga ba nagsimula?
Malalim na pinagsamahan
Masasayang ala-ala, na tila hindi maaantala—-
    ng kahit anong problema, sa atin man ay naka-amba
Magkahawak mga kamay, tayo ay hindi bibitaw.

Mga gala at lakad natin, na minsan ay biglaan pa
Mga oras na hindi natin alam, kung paano napagkasya.
Basta't alam nating... tayo ay masaya—- kahapon man o ngayon, at kahit na bukas pa!


Ngunit dumating ang panahon, tayo'y sinubok na ng pagkakataon
Masasaya nating bukas ay nagsimula na ngang kumupas
Hindi alam kung paano, tayo'y biglang nagbago
Tila nalagas na puno, hindi na lumago.

Akala ko ba ikaw ay "KASAMA?"
Hindi lang kaibigan o basta-bastang kasintahan
Kasama sa lungkot at pighati, kasiyahang hindi mawari
Pagkatalo man o pagkapanalo—- tayo pa rin ang magwawagi.


At ngayon...
Bumalik tayo kung saan...
Paano nga ba nagsimula?

Nagsimulang mawala ang paniniwala na tayo ay para sa isa't-isa
Nagsimulang matalo sa digmaan at piniling wag na lumaban?
Nagsimulang maglaho ang mga katagang "mahal kita"
Nagsimulang magbulag-bulagan sa katotohanang
b a k a   t a y o  a y  p w e d e   p a ?

Isip at damdamin ay di makaunawa
Hirap pagalingin ang sugat na sariwa
Sugat na iwan ng ating pinagsamahan
Pinagsamahan na akala ko ay aabot sa simbahan

Paano nga ba nagsimula?
Paano at kailan nagsimula?
Nagsimulang matapos ang ating pagmamahalan?

Kahit kailan pinangarap ko, maging ikaw at ako—- hanggang sa dulo
Paano mangangarap kung ako ay gising na?
Gising sa katotohanan na tayo ay
w a l a  n a?


© LMLB
This is a poem I made eight months ago. I think it's the right time to publish it to let the public read it freely, as free as I am right now. Perhaps the feelings have depreciated and that's why I wouldn't mind if someone would read this poem, based solely on my feelings couple of months ago.

There you go, you have it. Read this poem from my broken heart that's already mended now. :)
Meadow Sep 2018
White water meets white sky.

No escape from this fog bubble we call paradise.

Eyes blinded by white blankets of smoke.

We wonder what is beyond.

A white canvas to project one's desires of a far-off dream.

Thinking...
Anything is better than this, right?
Vexren4000 Feb 2018
A notched piece of wood,
Part of a picnic table,
Sitting in the local park,
Names of forgotten loves,
Scrawled into the wood,
Graffiti from forlorn souls,
And immature children scrawled,
Insults and garbage,
A world of drawings and memories,
Sitting in the field,
Of a simple and sometimes forgotten park.


©BAS
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