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Jun Lit Feb 2019
Finding poetry in a disease
is like looking for a nugget
of gold in one Smokey Mountain
of revolting, rotting *******.

A poem is precious.
It breathes us life.
Even one about death
brings hope of imagined
heavens and dreads of
eternal incomplete combustion,
but dengue ***** dry
its hapless victims.

Baby mossies
are cheering,
wriggling,
today, detritus feeding . . .
Tomorrow, the girls among them turning
into little vampires blood feeding;
and the boys will have for drinking
plant juices like wines brewing.
Rightly or not, the winged being
receives much of the blame, poor thing!

The greater pain, the bigger burden,
felt greatly by the downtrodden,
however, lies not so much in the bitten
nor the biter - always the villain.

When those whose tasks are meant to serve,
serve not the ones who need, but only themselves
When solicitors utter Hippocratic mantras
Like gurus descended from Oriental Olympuses
but in truth are Proud Marys burning with empty heads . . .

And when the multitudes blind and blinded,
in Plato’s Cave chained, demented
faithfully follow the falsehoods preached
by the High Priests and Priestesses:
I recall the scenarios of old tales told
of Pied Pipers leading kids out of Hamelin’s fold
to a treacherous realm of eternal repose.

And a nation’s bound to decompose.
Jun Lit Feb 2019
Rows and rows of friends,
tall and mighty trunks, ancients.
Humbled, I am home.
Jun Lit Feb 2019
Lakad, akyat, kahit pagód, dala ay tuwâ.
May pakanta-kanta pa ng Beatles, sadyâ.
Buti classic, edad ay 'di-ga'nong" halata . . .
Translation:
Long and Winding Road - 1
Walking, hiking, although tiring, joy it does bring.
with matching humming, Beatles, of course, we're singing.
Good, it's classic, so it isn't obvious, we're aging.]
Jun Lit Jan 2019
Life is a journey -
the road may be very long.
We need to go on . . .
Jun Lit Jan 2019
(In Memory of Miss Araceli M. Katigbak, TMA’s Miss Grammar)

You taught us
to talk and write head up high
in a tongue to foster,
that is not our mother
The scroll of rules
and the roster of exceptions
you’ve mastered
and you made us master,
patiently you nurtured
the timid buds
diligently you challenged us
daily, and your voice
still reverberates –
Correct practice makes perfect!
Beyond subject-predicate agreements
Your treasured grammar lessons
taught the young at heart,
the malleable minds:
Every man or every woman is
but
Men or women are,
regardless or irrespective
of beginnings,
required to know:
1. There are rules to be followed.
- and we expanded this to our lives,
and not just our paragraphs and sentences
2. There are exceptions to be considered.
- and you indirectly taught us,
to recognize differences
and that difficulties of the English language
are just like people’s frailties
and our friends’ idiosyncracies
3. Mastering grammar is good
but honesty is the best!

And thus, your lessons most precious
are far above your prim and proper dress and shoes
and your gospels of correct usage, syntax and other linguistic gems
delivered good citizenship and how-to-be-a-good-friend items.
The Good English we learned are words to live by
You’ve given us treasures no money can buy.
TMA - refers to The Mabini Academy, in Lipa City, the school that the author that the author attended during his high school years and from where he graduated in 1977.
Jun Lit Jan 2019
Leaves green and swaying
Bamboos dancing with the wind
Hope shoots eternal.
Shoots refer to bamboo shoots
Jun Lit Dec 2018
Nais kong humimlay
ang tibok ng puso
sa saliw ng taludturan
Subalit pipi ang mga daliri
sa pagdiin sa tipaan.
Mga hikbi’y nalulunod
sa naiwang bakas
naghihingalong daing
kalungkutang di-matawaran

Para na kitang anak, at maraming salamat
Itinuring mo akong tila pangalawang tatay mo rin
At sa wika ng sabong, sa lalawigan nating alamat
hindi ka na tatyaw, kundi mahusay na talisayin

Narating mo ang rurok
At iyong hinawakan ang mga alapaap
ng iyong malaon nang pangarap
Sa musmos **** puso
namulaklak ang maliwanag
Sa isip na pinagpala
nagbunga ng pang-unawa,
karunungan at syensya’y para sa madla,
ipamahaging parang kawanggawa.  

Hinahanap ka ng mga kabag
na kinatakutan ng iba
ngunit iyong kinilala’t niyakap:
“Nasaan na si Kuya namin?
Bakit di pa dumarating?
Tutubusin niya kaming pawa
sa panganib ng pagkasira.”

Naghihintay mga bundok at gubat
May luklukan pa sa yungib
kung saan namamahinga ang malayang pangkat.
Subalit tahimik, walang sumasagot . . .
Puyat ka sa magdamag
ng buhay **** makulay at tampok.
Hindi ka sumasagot -
Naabot mo na pala ang tugatog.

          Magkaganun man, malayo pa ang layunin
          Kami’y tutuloy pa sa ating lakbayin
          Paalam kasama, kaibigan namin.
          Mga aral na naiwan, laging aalalahanin.
Dedicated to the memory of James de Villa Alvarez, 21 April 1991-08 December 2018, who perished while on fieldwork as a wildlife biologist on Mount Apo in Mindanao, The Philippines. The poem summarizes my appreciation for him as well as my feelings of sadness and great loss, he being a protege who we expected to continue our science and advocacies.
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