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AUGUST Jan 2019
papano ba mapaparating ang nararamdaman?
kaya ko bang sasabihin saiyo ng harapan?
kung meron lang sana akong lakas ng loob
sa tamang hinala ng maling kutob

bakit sayo lang nagkaganito
sa bituwing tunay na may ganda
bakit sayo, tuluyang nagbago
may paghanga, meron ding pangamba

sinta, di ko sinasadya
may kusa itong paghanga
tadhana ang nagbadya
kaya wala akong magagawa

kung sana kaya kong umilag
kung sana di ako nalalaglag
kung sana kaya kung pumalag
kung sana ang puso di takot mabasag

paano ka ba makikilala
kung di ko kayang lumapit
saan ba to mapupunta
hangarin kailan ba makakamit
marahil masaya na sana ako na aking madinig
matamis na sagot ng malambing **** tinig

ano bang gagawin, di makalapit at di makalalayo
papano kakausapin,kung di masambit ang nais ng puso
sana bigyan ng tapang, ipadama ang pagsuyo
dahil itong naaramdaman di ko kayang isuko

hawakan mo aking mga kamay
dito sa gitna ng yakap humimlay
wag nang malumbay,pangako ko habang buhay
sayo lang iaalay ang pagibig kong tunay

hayaan nating mga mata'y makiusap
sa mga titig **** nakikihiram ng kislap
bakit dito, kung saan ako nakatinag
larawan mo ang bukod tanging lumiliwanag

tulad ka ng rosas sa pula ng labi
tulad ka ng anghel sadyang nakakabighani
sa mahabang buhok, kutis **** malambot, at tamis ng yong ngiti
wala kang katulad, anyong namumukudtangi

nilalang na tulad mo BIYAYA kang mamahalin
sa hamak na tulad ko SUMPA kitang iibigin
oh Nadine, meron pa akong dapat na hiling
kung dinig na ng diyos ang aking panalangin
oh Nadine, bulaklak ka sa hardin
wag mo sanang hayaan ako'y hanggan tingin
na sana'y pakinggan ang aking hinaing
pagkat di ko kayang mabuhay ng wala ka sa akin
Nakasisilaw* sa Kapitolyo
Sa sentro ng siyudad
Tatak ng probinsyang pabo.

Sari't sari ang trayanggulong baligtad
Nasa ere silang kumukumpas
At tila ba may spotlight sa norte paroon
"City of the Living God,"
Inukit sa tabla ng di kilalang manlililok.

Minsan ding naging "City in the Forest,"
Sabi pa sa balita'y "Safest place in the Philippines"
Bagkus ang pagmimina'y tuloy pa rin
Lalo na sa Rio Tuba na ramdam ang Climate Change.

Dagdagan pa ng pamimihasa ng PALECO
Hihiramin nang saglit ang kakaunting ilaw at hangin
Nang di maglao'y mapa-"OO" ang lahat
Sa mungkahi nilang planta ng pagbabago.

Bulag sila't barado ang isip
Kikitilin ang hanapbuhay ng mga residente
Walang kamalay-malay ang iilan
Ito'y mitsa na pala ng pagdarahop.

Hahalayin ang tigang na lupa
Bubungkalin raw ang kinabukasan
Bagkus ang pawis ay sa atin
Tayo'y alila ng karatig-bansa
Dayuhan sa sariling bayan.

Titirik sila sa espasyo
Bisig ng tabing-dagat na buhangi'y sutla
Inosente nga sa Salvage Zone
Paano pa kaya pag naimplementa na?

Likido ang bawat anino sa semento
Tumatakbo't tumatagpo sa iba't ibang direksyon
Hindi makapuswit ang mga sasakyan
Maging ang simpleng harurot
Ng munting bisekleta ni Juan.

Doon ko nasilayan ang magigiting na pulis
Taas-noong suot ang uniporme
At iilang traffic enforcer
Na wala sa linyang puti.

Tila bawat uri ng katauha'y nasa parada
Kung hindi man,
Sa iilang personang lumalabas-pasok sa eksena
Kukuha ng larawan, akala mo eksperto
Hindi naman pala
Ayos, selfie pala ang gusto
Dekorasyon ang mga artistang Netibo.

Bawat munisipyo'y may nagsisilbing pambato
Makukulay ang mga sasakya't pudpod ng disenyo
Na sa kahit sa palamuti'y maitaas ang munisipyo
Buhat sa pagkabiktima ng gobyernong manloloko.

Highlight nga ang Street Dancing
Aba't ang layo ng kanilang lakarin
At sa bawat kanto'y sasabay
Sa saliw ng Remix na musikang inihain.

Nalugmok ang puso ko
Bagamat ito'y nararapat na saya ang dulot
Ito'y nagsisilbing maskara na lamang
Nakasanayan, naging tradisyon
Ang kulturang laging may bahid ng eleksyon.

Nakaririmarim ang iilang nasa trono
Pinalibutan ng berdeng hardin ang sentro
Bulong ng Supplier doble pala ang presyo
Aba't sige nga, saan nila ibubulsa?
Kung ang kanila'y umaapaw pa.

Bagamat ang lahat ay nasa bilog
Paikut-ikot tayo sa animong sitwasyon
Tanging takbuhan nati'y ang Maykapal
Na hanggang sa huli'y magwawasto ng bawat kamalian.

Sa probinsyang kinalalagyan
Ito'y nag-aalab na espada ng lipunan
Bawat isa'y responsable't may pananagutan
Tamang dedikasyon sa sandigang bayan.

Walang masama sa pagiging alarma
Maging aktibo ka, kabataan
Ikaw ang pag-asa ng Perlas ng Silanganan
Abutin mo yaong pangarap at manindigan
Hindi pansarili, bagkus pag sa tuktok na'y
Gawin ang tanging tama
Na naaayon sa batas ng higit na Nakatataas.

(6/29/14 @xirlleelang)
Joseph Floreta Sep 2016
Dahil ginusto **** igawa kita ng tula,
Tulad ng nararamdaman ko,
Igagawa kita ng tulang nananaghoy,
Tulad ng pag tangis ko sa gabi,
Igagawa kita ng tula,
Tulad ng mga rosas na pinitas ko sa hardin,
dahil wala akong mapag-alayan,
Bukod sa puso kong namatay na,
Igagawa kita ng tula na nahahapis,
Tulad ng pag daloy ng ulan saking mukha,
Dahil hindi mo hinayaang mahalin kita,
Ni hindi mo binigyan ng tsansa,
Kaya igagawa kita ng tulang banayad,
Banayad tulad ng nabasag na salamin,
Igagawa kita ng tula,
Tulad ng nag iisang bituwin na tinatabingan ng ulap... paalam na..
#Tropang Sawi
kingjay Jul 2019
Ang hele sa duyan
Awit ng magulang
na nakapagpagaan sa hangin
sa tuwing nauulinigan

Ang mga punongkahoy doon sa palayan
Na nagwawagayway sa mga dumadaan
May matimyas na kuwento
noong sila pa'y mga munting halaman

Paru paro  na sa hardin
na dumadapo sa bulaklak
sila rin ay may pinagmulan
-galing sa alamat

Ang magandang tanawin
Baryo pa dati kung pangalanan
Magandang buhay ang binabati
Ng damo't kawayan

Ang paggising ng araw
mula sa Silangan
Nagbibigay pag-asa
ang matingkad niyang liwanag

At noong dati
Nang minsa'y nagmahal
mahiyain sa kaibigan
ayaw sabihin sa kaklase

Hanggang ngayon
bibig ay parang itinahi
Bakit nahalina sa pag-ibig
Kung malaya lang ang umibig
Di na sana pinili
Moon Humor Apr 2015
~Many people rely on the convenient, easy ways of living in this age of fast food, plastic packaging and rapid development. Most people do not care to see why they live the way they do or what it takes to live in such a way. Toxic pollutants leaching into our earth and water should not be worth the convenience! Third world women working in dusty, cramped factories to make designer purses for fifteen year old girls. Garbage is America’s biggest export and it ends up in China, on the coast of Somalia... anywhere that American citizens won’t be bothered to see it.

~What does it mean to buy a pack of plastic razors? Some metal, some chemicals, some plastic, more plastic for packaging. Use a razor a few times and toss it in the garbage. Somewhere, maybe at La Chureca, someone will pull the rusted metal and plastic from the landfill. They might make one US dollar per day collecting scraps of aluminum, glass, plastic and other scrap metals. What does it mean to wear deodorant? The plastic stick isn’t reusable. The ingredients are highly toxic. Aluminum-based antiperspirants have been linked to Alzheimer's and cancer. Soap comes in plastic bottles, coffee makers made of plastic, water bottles made of plastic… hell, my plastic shower curtain came wrapped in plastic packaging.

~Americans are lucky. Indoor plumbing with quality water. Green lawns and exotic flower beds. Buy and use, throw away and repeat. Big corporations pay off politicians to pollute. Industrial waste, land erosion, low air quality, pesticides. Why are we so quick to trust an artificial sweetener being promoted by a company that makes poison? They call you a hippy, a conspiracy theorist. They tell you that you only live once and to stop being so worried about it all. I ask them, how can you look away? Deforestation and destruction are all around. Those that profit are not concerned with what happens to the land after the loggers and miners have left the ground scarred and desolate.

~Modern living is a hoax. Yeah, you get around quick in your car but at what cost? Carbon dioxide, greenhouse gasses choking us and everything alive that lives with us and cannot speak. Can’t you walk to the corner store? Can’t you grow a few things in the garden or in the windowsill? When was the last time you saw a sunset and didn’t take a picture of it? Dairy cows packed together so tight they can’t turn around for your glass of milk. The disconnect is everywhere. Overpopulation. Overconsumption. People don’t care.

~They can choose. They can choose paper over plastic. They can buy a water filter instead of 20 plastic bottles. They can bike to work. Anyone can lessen their impact, anyone can think more deeply and live more sustainably. But we’ve made it so easy to be lazy. We’ve become so dependent that we’re forgetting to use technological gains to make the way we do things better. We’ve come so far that we’re forgetting what brought us here.

~

‘We are slaves in the sense that we depend for our daily survival upon an expand-or-expire agro-industrial empire – a crackpot machine – that the specialists cannot comprehend and the managers cannot manage. Which is, furthermore, devouring world resources at an exponential rate.’ Edward Abbey

‘In the developing world, the problem of population is seen less as a matter of human numbers than of western overconsumption. Yet within the development community, the only solution to the problems of the developing world is to export the same unsustainable economic model fuelling the overconsumption of the West.’ Kavita Ramdas

‘Water and air, the two essential fluids on which all life depends, have become global garbage cans.’ Jacques-Yves Cousteau

‘Globalisation, which attempts to amalgamate every local, regional, and national economy into a single world system, requires homogenising locally adapted forms of agriculture, replacing them with an industrial system – centrally managed, pesticide-intensive, one-crop production for export – designed to deliver a narrow range of transportable foods to the world market.’Helena Norberg-Hodge

‘Throughout history human exploitation of the earth has produced this progression: colonise-destroy-move on.’ Garrett Hardin
Quotes from: theguardian.com
kingjay Dec 2018
Ang monasteryo ay pugad ng dasal ng maya
Nasa tono ang plawta, umiirog na nota
Ang natatanaw na inakalang bukang-liwayway  ay magandang kasintahan

Harana ng kalawakan, nakakabinging bulong
alulong ng multo na nanahan
Sundin ang pagkabigo
Sapagkat ang harmonya'y bihasa sa pagbibilanggo

Ang kinikimkim na rosas ay lumulubo
Ngunit nakagapos ang mga ugat
Nakapanlulumo man ito'y totoo
Nabubuhay ang bulaklak sa hardin na nakatago

Itigil ang kahibangan ng bahaghari
Pagkatapos ng pag-iyak ng kalangitan puso'y nagdadalamhati
Kahit gaanong tingkad ng kulay sa himpapawid
Malaking imahinasyon lamang ang makisabay sa pana ng anghel

Iwaksi ang pagtitibok
Ang mga konstelasyon ang patunay
Guhit ng relasyon sa hangin ialay
Papalayo, hindi mamamatay
paulit-ulit na mabibigo

Ang samyo ng damuhan ay may kaluwalhatiang hatid
Sa paraiso nakasandal ang mga balikat at pighati
Malayang pag-iisip, paglalakbay ng diwa
Lunas sa damdaming mahapdi
𝙰𝚗𝚗𝚎 Feb 2018
hindi ikaw ang dahilan kung bakit siya nakangiti
hindi ikaw ang unang una niyang maiisip
sa unang pagbukas ng kanyang mga matang nakapikit;
hindi ikaw ang kanyang unang kakausapin
sa tuwing siya'y masaya,
malungkot, nagdudusa, at nasasaktan
hindi rin ikaw ang unang taong kailangan niya
tuwing siya'y nakakaramdam ng pagiging mag-isa

hindi talaga 'ikaw.'

ang ikaw na palaging siya ang iniisip
unang pagmulat pa lang ng mata sa umaga
ang ikaw na bukambibig ang pangalan niya
kahit ang iba'y rinding rindi na
ang ikaw na palaging nag-aabang sa pinto
nagbabakasaling babalik siya
at ang ikaw na naghihintay
kahit nakakagago na

hindi rin ikaw, at hinding hindi magiging ikaw
ang 'siya' na gusto niya
ang siya na importante sa buhay niya
na kahit ano mang pagsubok, ay siya at siya pa rin
ang siya na palagi niyang binabati ng magandang umaga
ang siya na ang mundo niya
at ang siya na kahit kailan
ay hindi magiging ikaw

hindi ikaw,

hindi talaga ikaw ang huli niyang maiisip
bago niya ipikit muli ang kanyang mga mata
hindi ikaw ang masayang kaganapan na maaalala niya tuwing siya'y nalulungkot
at hindi ikaw ang isang pulang rosas na kanyang pinili sa hardin ng iba't ibang bulaklak

kahit kailan naman ay hindi naging ikaw
hindi naging ikaw ang "siya" at "tayo" na iniisip niya
hindi naging ikaw ang pinaplano niyang masayang panimula pagkatapos ng masakit na katapusan
hindi naging ikaw, at hindi magiging ikaw

dahil iba ang "ikaw" at "siya"
ang siya na pilit niyang kinukuha ang atensyon
at ikaw na pilit namang kinukuha ang atensyon na hindi para sayo.
Yan ang unang salita na biglang pumasok sa aking utak
Kapag narinig ko ang iyong pangalan na noon akala ko isang bulaklak
Akala ko ikaw ang nag-iisang napagandang bulaklak sa hardin na malawak
Pero nung nakuha kita di ko akalain na ako pala’y iiyak

Mahal, saan ba ako nagkulang?
Minahal kita ng sapat pero bakit ako’y iyong sinaktan?
Ako ang iyong iniwan
Pero bakit ako itong luhaan?

Nasasaktan ako tuwing na-alala ko ang magandang pagsasama
Kulitan doon, tawa dito, hatid-sundo, at loob ko’y nakuha mo na
Hanggang sa binigay ko sa’yo ang aking tiwala
Pero di ko inasahang itatapon mo lang ‘to ng bigla-bigla

Binigyan mo ako ng madaming motibo
Pinakita mo sa’kin na masaya ka kasama sa piling ko
Ipinaramdam mo sa’kin na importante ako sa’yo
At higit sa lahat sinabi **** ako’y mahal mo

Mahal, oo Mahal mo ako
Mahal mo ako tuwing walang kasama
Mahal mo ako tuwing wala kang kalaindian na iba
Mahal mo nalang ako tuwing may kailangan ka
Oo, kasi madali lang sa’yo ang sabihin ang salitang “MAHAL KITA”

Mahal, isa kang napakalaking PA-A-SA
PA – pagmamahal na akala ko nasa’kin na
A – akala ko abot ko na ang pangarap ko sinta
pero
SA – sakit lang pala ang idinulot mo at puso ko’y namamaga
kaya paalam na sa’yo Mahal kong PAASA
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
Paunawa sa babasa:

Hiniling ng isa kong kaibigan na relihiyoso na gawan ko daw s'ya ng tula tungkol sa ikalimang wika ni Kristo noong nagdaang Mahal na Araw kaya kahit Atheist ako ay ginawa ko ang Free Verse (Malayang Taludturan) na ito.



“Nauuhaw ako”

Malalim ang baon ng mga pako sa kanyang mga kamay at paa. Mahigpit din ang pagkakatali ng lubid sa kanyang mga braso. Napapalibutan siya ng mga kaaway, nagsusugal at nag-iinuman ang mga sundalong Romano habang nililibak siya ng mga Pariseo. Tiyak na wala s’yang kawala. Naghahalo ang dugo at pawis magkasabay itong umaagos palabas mula sa kanyang katawan; hindi na rin n’ya maalala kung ilan ng sampal, suntok, sipa at palo ang kanyang natanggap. Sa gitna ng kanyang paghihirap binigkas ni Hesus ang kanyang ikalimang wika:

“Nauuhaw ako”

Kagabi lang bago s’ya dakpin ng mga tampalasan ay nagmakaawa s’ya sa hardin ng Getsemane at taimtim na hiniling sa kanyang Ama na kung maaari sana ay huwag na n’yang danasin ang paghihirap na ito. Subalit hindi s’ya dininig nito.

“Nauuhaw ako”

Siya ba ang kailangan na magdusa, obligado ba s’ya na bayaran ang kasalanan ng iba? Bakit s’ya ang inutusan ng kanyang Ama para akuin ang sala ng sangkatauhan? Masyadong mabigat ang pasanin na ito para sa isang hamak na karpintero na gaya n’ya.

“Nauuhaw ako”

Ito ba ang kapalit ng pagiging masunurin at mabuting anak ang masadlak sa laksang dusa at malagim na paghihirap? Nasasabik na s’yang umupo sa tabi ng kanyang ama; hinahanaphanap n’ya na ang papuring awit ng mga Anghel sa langit.

“Nauuhaw ako”

Nilikha ba ang sanlibutan at ang mga tao upang sa bandang huli ay maging mapaghimagsik sila at walang galang sa kanilang lumalang? Bakit punong-puno ng kalupitan at karahasan ang mundo?

“Nauuhaw ako”

Hindi sapat ang tubig o ano mang inumin para mawala ang kanyang uhaw na nagmumula sa puso; ang pag-ibig ng sangkatauhan ang kanyang inaasam.
Chelsie Dec 2020
Di mo ba napapansin?
Anak mo, sagad na din.
Pasensya, di kinaya,
Inis ka na rin pala.

Sinong gustong malungkot?
Laging nakabaluktot?
Isa lang aking dingin,
Maglaho, kagaya ng hangin.

Saya sa anak ng iba,
Sa akin din, pwede ba?
Magaling, masayahin,
Pag-iisip, normal din.

Kung sumama sa hangin,
Ako sana’y malimot din.
Maging masaya ka sana,
Sa iyong bagong hardin.
poetry is just my emotional outlet tbh
Cal Ashiq Feb 2017
Kay tamis ng iyong ngiti
Sadyang kay ganda ng iyong labi
Ika'y lubos na nakakahumalig
Sayo ako'y tunay na umiibig

Mata mo'y kumikinang na parang bituin
Ikaw ang anghel ng aking panalangin
Regalo ka ng Diyos aking sinta
Sayo ang puso ko'y napapakanta

Kislap ng iyong mata saakin ay nagpapatunaw
Pagmamahal ko sayo'y lubos na nangingibabaw
Ika'y rosas sa hardin ng Diyos
Tatawirin ka sa kahit anong unos

Mahal ko, bahaghari ka sa pagdaan ng ulan
Kasing ganda ng pagsikat ng araw sa silangan
Pagmamahal ko sayo'y inspirasyon sa aking Buhay
Tayong dalawa'y kailanma'y di mawawalay
solEmn oaSis Nov 2015
salamat at may isang ikaw ?
na sa akin ay siyang pumukaw,
upang ang prutas sa hardin ng balik-tanaw...
maingatang mainam ang pagpitas nitong balintataw !
oo Ikaw na Aking KAIBIGAN
na siyang aking sinusundan!
"when meaning, treated as a hurt and empty
anything might be gone, even madness and beauty"
....at kanyang BABAHAGINAN
ang napiling KABABAIHAN
na magiging DAHILAN
upang ang PARAAN
,,ay MAISAKATUPARAN
"sapagkat ang likas na lakas ng isang pasya
ay siyang pinagmumulan ng naka-akdang propesiya"
SO IT WAS WRITTEN SO IT SHALL BE DONE
**na para bang tayo sina Eva at Adan
AT NAKITA KO...MALAPIT NA ANG HANGGANAN.
YAONG ISINILANG SA MGA BUWAN NG ALAKDAN!
Nauubos na ang katas ng mga bulaklak sa hardin,
Gayundin ang mga dahong tila nagsasayawan sa bawat pagsipol ng hangin.
Unti-unting ring nanamlay ang mga iwinawagayway sa bawat pulong ipinagbigkis.
At maging ang bahaghari'y waring sanggol na nahihiyang magpakita't piniling magtitiis.

Sa pagtikom ng bibig ng tinuturing na demokrasya
Ay nasaan nga ba ang tunay na pagkalinga?
Na sa tuwing gumagayak ang mga nakapilang ekstranghero
Ay magsusulputan ang mga buwayang masahol pa sa nakawala sa hawla.

Sinisipat ang mga bulsang walang laman,
Para bang mga santo silang naghihintay sa alay na hindi naman nila pinaghirapan.
May iilan pa ngang susukli ng lason buhat sa kanilang mga bibig.
Matindi pa sa hagupit ng kidlat, kung sila ay magmalupit.

Doon sa kasuluk-sulukan ng kurtina sa entablado'y
Nagsitikom ang mga buwelta ng mga may puting kapa.
Sila sana ang pinakamakapangyarihan
Na hindi kung anong elemento ang pinagmumulan.
Sila sana ang pinapalakpakan,
Ngunit ang suporta'y wala naman palagi sa laylayan.

Taas-noo sila para sa bandilang pinilay ng sistema.
Bayani kung ituring ngunit sila'y napapagod din.
Nakakaawa, pagkat sila'y pinamahayan na rin ng mga gagamba
At kung anu-ano pang mga insektong noo'y itinataboy naman sa kanila.

Tangay nila ang armas na posibleng lunas sa kamandag,
Sila na rin mismo ang dedepensa't aawat
Sa paparating na mga kalabang hindi naman nila nakikita.
Ano nga ba ang laban nila?
Ano nga ba ang tagumpay na maituturing
Sa labang tanong din ang katapusan?

Samu't saring lahi na may iisang kalaban
Ngunit ang tanong ko'y, may iisa rin bang patutunguhan?
May iisang sigaw ngunit ang tinig ay wasak sa kalawakan.
May iisang mithiin ngunit ito'y panandalian lamang.
Pagkat sa oras na ang giyera'y mawaksian na rin,
Ang medalya't parangal ay tila isasaboy pa rin sa hangin.
elea Feb 2016
Tulad ng isang magandang bulaklak na nalanta sa hardin ng mahal kong lola
May bagay na hindi tumatagal gaya ng ating inaakala.
Isang paru-paro ang nakita kong  nakadapo sa nag hihikahos na puting rosas ang naka lagay sa kanyang paso.

Napaisip ako,
pano kapag ako naman ang nawala?

May mga tao bang magbibigay pansin?
May mga dati bang kaibigan na dadating?
May mga tao bang iiyak dahil sa aking pag lisan?
O ang mga mata ko ang luluha dahil sariling multo ko lang ang nakiramay.
#saPaglisan
-poembornwithfeet-
082121

O giliw at ginintuan kong bayan,
Sa mga galamay ng may burdang hinagpis
Ay ‘di patitinag ang katapatan kong sayo’y itinatangis
Panaghoy ko’y ‘wag sanang lisanin
Ang pangako nating hanggang sa dulo’y mananatili.

Hindi man sa ngayon
Ang paggawad ng medalyang kailanma’y hindi mangangalawang,
Ako’y magtitiis sa muling paglipad
Ng kalapating pilit na itinatali’t ikinakahon
Sa mga islang tanging anino na lamang ang kasarinlan.

Kung mamarapatin lang ng may Likha
Na ako’y tupukin na lamang ng apoy na hindi nakasusunog
At ako’y ayain sa hardin nang walang kamalayan
Kundi pagpuri sa Kanyang kagandahan.
Ngunit kailanma’y hindi ako mangingimasok
Sa kung anumang inilatag sa aking harapan.

Gustong lumuha ng dugo
Ng aking mga matang may iisang tinitingnan.
Sa mga kamay Niya’y
Hahayaan ko na lamang na dumungis ang mga butil
At ang Kanyang pagkalinga’y
Magsilbing panlaman-tiyan.

Kung makararating man sa lahat ng mga pinili
Na ang aking pananatili’y hindi pansarili lamang
Kundi ito’y aking pagpasyang piliin pa rin
Ang tahanan bagamat ito’y pinagtaksilan ng karamihan.

Sa mga pulong walang kapanatagan
At walang kapaliwanagan ang may kapangyarihan,
Ay naniniwala akong hindi paglisan ang solusyon.
At kung takot at pangamba ang kanilang mga naging dahilan,
Ay hindi ko kokonsintihin
Ang puso kong anumang oras
Ay kayang piliin na rin ang paglisan.
Meruem Sep 2018
Ako'y minsan ng naligaw,
Sa ilalim ng kalangitang bughaw.
Isang napakalawak na hardin,
Na agad pumukaw ng aking paningin.

O, Mirasol!
Namumukod tangi ang tanglaw.
Sinubukan ko itong pitasin,
Itinuring na sariling akin.

Sa lakas ng ihip ng hangin,
Di ko namalayan na ito'y tatangayin.
Sinubukan ko itong sagipin,
Ngunit sa huli, ako pa rin ang salarin.
Minsan, di natin naiisip na sa isang iglap o isang pagkakamali ay maaaring mawala satin yung bagay na pinakaiingatan natin. Kung kelang huli na ang lahat tsaka natin mapagtatanto na kahit na napakaraming bulaklak sa hardin, hindi na natin mapapalitan yung nag iisang bulaklak na napili natin kapag ito'y nalagas na.
Bluepetal Feb 2018
Sa isang hardin ako ay may namataan
Isang dahong nakatungo at tila may dinaramdam
Matagal kong pinagmasdan subalit di ko maunawaan
Kaya naman nilapitan at nagsimula ng isang usapan….

Munting dahon, aking bungad, ikaw ata’y matamlay
Sukli nya’y ngiting may  kahalong lumbay
At napansin ko ang pighati sa kanyang mata
Hanggang tuluyan nang umagos ang saganang mga luha…

At sinambit nya…

“Oh ang rosas na puno ng ganda
Lahat sa kanya ay nahahalina
Subaling akong palagi nyang kasama
Ni minsan di nabigyan ng importansya"

Dagdag nya...

"Ako’y nanliliit sa aking sarili
Lahat ng suporta, sa iba ay ibinahagi
Kay rosas, kay tangkay, sila ay aking tinulungan
Sa abot ng makakaya, sila ay aking dinamayan

Subalit sa malakas na ihip ng hangin
Dulot ng bagyong kayhirap pahupain
Tila yata akoy’ nag-iisa at nalulugmok
Ako ba’y pagkain lang ng uod na gutom?”

Oh kaibigan, akin na lang nasambit
Huwag kang bibitaw at higpitan ang yong kapit
Ang mundo ay di perpekto, ang laban ay di patas
Panalangin sa Taas, gawin **** sandata at lakas.

Kung ikaw ay susuko, tagumpay ba'y makakamtan?
Ang iyo bang paglisan ay kaligayahang inaasam?
Tumayo ka nang matatag at sa buhay ay lumaban
Ano ba't ang lumbay ay sadya ren paparam...
Be kind to everyone. Everyone has his own battle.
Jeffery Massey Feb 2016
The  roughness signifies my pain
my struggle my Grind in this life.
One way or another I continue to climb.  
The proverbial  ladder of life!
Isn't  it amazing how our bodies can
physically  reflect our pain and Internal  wellness.
My knits and Cuts, scrapes and burns
reminds me of what I've overcome and
how far I still need to go
I take my time though and treat myself well
and learn to be gentle
*** life has a way of reflecting pain and happiness.
All u have to do is look closely.
The signs are right in your hands.
100521

Humihikab na naman ang kalawakan,
Natutulog ang mga bituing
Patay-sindi kung magparamdam.
At ang bagong-gising na buwan ay sumisigaw
Na parang mga pinag-samasamang alikabok
At syang isinaboy sa garapon ng buhay.

Kusang nagtutuklapan ang mga nakahilerang pader
Na pinino na parang mga buhangin sa dalampasigan.
Habang paisa-isang nagbabato ng galit
Ang mitikolosong likido na tumataboy
Sa mga ekstranghero ng sanlibutan.

Nagsisimula na ring gumapang ang pananim
Na ang binhi'y hiningahan ng kariktan.
At sa malalambot na mga ulap
Ay magtatapat ito ng kanyang paghanga.

Hinahawi na parang mga bagong pitas na rosas sa hardin
Ang bawat bungang muling ihahasik sa pagsapit ng dilim.
At sa ikalawang pagbangon ng binhing pinagmulan ng lahat
Ay masasaksihan ng bawat nilalang
Ang sinasabi nitong liwanag na bubulag sa lahat.
Jose Remillan May 2017
Marahan niyang pinitas ang
Huling gumamela sa hardin.
Kasama ang liham at lihim
Ng puso, inialay sa paralumang

Matagal-tagal ding itinangi,
Itinangis sa tadhana, ng walang
Hanggang paghilom at pag-asa.
Anuman ang mangyari, patuloy na

Idadako ang paningin sa pagtingin,
Hindi sa hapóng damdamin, hindi
Sa mga lamat ng puso, bagkus
Sa alamat ng bagong pagsuyo,

Paulit-ulit mang danasin ang guho.
Euphrosyne Feb 2020
Sinta pasensya,
Pasensya dahil
Hindi ko agad napansin
Ang pag usbong
Ng nasasalat mo
Patungo saken,
Ngunit
Sinta dama ko
Nadadama ko
Nadadama ko lahat
Hindi ko lang pinapahalata
Dahil mas nauna sa aking isipan
Na ako'y matatalo agad
Dahil malalaman **** gusto kita
Marahil
Mahal na rin kita
Pasensya sinta
Tinago ko lahat ng ito
Lahat ng nadarama ko
Alam kong may pagasa pa
At hindi ako mawawalan
Ng pag asa
Dahil naniniwala ako sayo
Kahit karampot nalamang
Ang tsansa sayo
At handa akong isugal
Lahat ng iyon
Para sa pagusbong natin
Subalit
Sinta ngayon
Hindi ko na papalagpasin pa
Hindi ka na mabibigo pang muli
Ibibigay ko lahat ng lakas ko
Para sayo sinta
Para sa pagusbong muli ng pagibig mo
Ibibigay ko lahat
Basta't huwag kang mawawala.
Muli pasensya sinta
Ngayon hayaan mo akong bumawi
Dahil disidido akong
Maging hardin ang ating pagmamahalan.
Para sayo ito ulit kilala mo na kung sino ka.
Maraming mga bagay sa mundo
Na di mo pa dapat
Naririnig,
Nakikita,
At nahahawakan
Ngunit dahil sa salitang "TRENDING"
Nakikiuso ka na din

Mga bagay na ito
Na nakalilito
Di tuloy natin alam kung saan hihinto

Napaka bilis ng iyong takbo
Ni di na lubos maisip kung saan naparirito

Hinay lang at mararating din
Ang pinakamagandang hardin
Konting
Sipag,
Tiyaga,
At hintay lang natin
Ang kasiyaha'y iyong masasalamin
Huwag kasi mag mamadali... may panahon para sa bawat aksyon... Masyado pang bata ang ating mga isip at di pa sapat na impormasyon ang nakalap...
Lev Rosario Nov 2021
Nais kong yakapin ang aking sarili
Bigyan ng mainit na gatas
At patulugin sa malambot na kama

Huwag kang matakot
Tao ka lang at tao rin lang sila
Hayaan **** managinip ang iyong kaluluwa

Tandaan mo ang iyong kabataan
Ikaw ay minamahal
Ikaw ay ginto

Ikaw ang tagabuhat ng umaga
Ang kanta ng mga matatabang maya
Ang almusal sa puso ng iyong pamilya

Pag gising mo, huminga ka nang malalim
Mag jogging ka sa iyong hardin
At ibigin ang init ng araw sa iyong mukha
"Old Man Rubenstein",

that's the name they knew him by

He'd worked the shop for fifty years

His friends just called him Cy

Each day he'd enter from the back

For at the front door slept

Someone trying to survive the cold

Inside the store Cy swept

The store had been a fixture

On the street for ninety years

Five Generations of Rubensteins

Had seen the smiles and tears

Of young men getting married

Picking rings out for their brides

And in many cases watching them

As they tried them on inside

The street had changed in fifty years

In ninety, even more

But one thing about Rubensteins

Was their famous tiled floor

In the foyer, just inside the door

There were tiles black and white

They were laid out like a flower

It was really quite a sight

When his Great Great Grandpa

Laid the tiles, it was done by J.C Hardin

To signify each customer

Was welcome "in his garden"

Times had changed since Cy came in

The street was not the same

A lot of stores had moved or closed

The malls all held the blame

With suburbs came progression

And with progression came bad news

Most small stores lost their customers

To chains with modern views

But Rubensteins stayed on the street

Never changing one small bit

They had been right here for ninety years

And this is where they'd sit

The front, I mentioned earlier

Each night became a bed

For someone living on the streets

A place to lay their head

Cy would leave a pillow

And a blanket by the door

It was always there next morning

Nicely folded like before

Other storefronts opened up

At nine...right sharp each day

But, Cy would leave the door shut

Letting his sleeping beauty lay

There wasn't lots of people

Who would shop in Cy's old store

With the way the neighborhood had died

No one came round here no more

With pawn shops open down the road

And two just up the block

The fact that people went to them

To Cy, was not a shock

He really ran the business

To keep himself alive

For he knew that if he closed it

He was sure he'd not survive

His life was wrapped up in the store

Each decade on a shelf

He was quite the story teller

And of stories...he'd a wealth

He sold a ring once to the Mayor

For his engagement years ago

They were still together nowadays

That was forty years or so

Harry Cooper bought his wifes rings

And his son had done as well

He'd bought a special pendant

When he lost his son in Hell

He'd go down to Giannis

And buy his lunch most days

He was never in a hurry

And most times he'd stay and gaze

He'd stare out the front windows

To a time so long before

Then he'd head back to the jewellers

And he'd still use the back door

He thought of times way in the past

When Christmas windows glowed

With displays of rings and Christmas lights

Lit up the whole **** road

But now, the storefront windows

Were protected by strong bars

There were hardly any customers

And even fewer cars

He remembered when a shopping trip

Meant dressing up to shop

But nowadays, a pair of jeans

And a t-shirt as a top

He'd sit inside the storefront

Until about six everyday

Then he'd put out a clean bedroll

And he'd quietly slip away

He'd show up every morning

Through the back door every time

He'd check on his front doorway

And he'd hum a little rhyme

"If friendship is a flower

'And a garden grows in time

I'm glad I have a garden

And you've spent some time in mine"

He'd make sure when he opened

That he'd turn on every light

Then he'd go out side the front door

And sweep away the night..
janel aira Mar 2020
Ibubulong sa hangin ang hiling na paghilom
Sikip ang mga alaala sa iisang kahapon
Maglalakbay sa hardin kung saan nagtagpo
Nais nang tumalikod ngunit paano

Dadapo na parang isang paru-paro
Sa mga talulot na nasa palad mo
Iidlip sa ugoy ng hanging malamig
Liwanag ng ‘yong ngiti’y baon sa pagpikit

Tinatangay ng agos ang bawat hibla ng alaala
Ngayong gabi ika’y talang tinitingala
Hihimbing kaya ako sa aking pahinga
Kung kabisado pa rin ang hulma ng iyong mukha
At age 45 I decided to become a sailor.  It had attracted me since I first saw a man living on his sailboat at the 77th street boat basin in New York City, back in 1978.  I was leaving on a charter boat trip with customers up the Hudson to West Point, and the image of him having coffee on the back deck of his boat that morning stayed with me for years.  It was now 1994, and I had just bought a condo on the back bay of a South Jersey beach town — and it came with a boat slip.

I started my search for a boat by first reading every sailing magazine I could get my hands on.  This was frustrating because most of the boats they featured were ‘way’ out of my price range. I knew I wanted a boat that was 25’ to 27’ in length and something with a full cabin below deck so that I could sail some overnight’s with my wife and two kids.

I then started to attend boat shows.  The used boats at the shows were more in my price range, and I traveled from Norfolk to Mystic Seaport in search of the right one.  One day, while checking the classifieds in a local Jersey Shore newspaper, I saw a boat advertised that I just had to go see …

  For Sale: 27’ Cal Sloop. Circa 1966. One owner and used very
   gently.  Price $6,500.00 (negotiable)

This boat was now almost 30 years old, but I had heard good things about the Cal’s.  Cal was short for California. It was a boat originally manufactured on the west coast and the company was now out of business.  The brand had a real ‘cult’ following, and the boat had a reputation for being extremely sea worthy with a fixed keel, and it was noted for being good in very light air.  This boat drew over 60’’ of water, which meant that I would need at least five feet of depth (and really seven) to avoid running aground.  The bay behind my condo was full of low spots, especially at low tide, and most sailors had boats with retractable centerboards rather than fixed keels.  This allowed them to retract the boards (up) during low tide and sail in less than three feet of water. This wouldn’t be an option for me if I bought the Cal.

I was most interested in ‘blue water’ ocean sailing, so the stability of the fixed keel was very attractive to me.  I decided to travel thirty miles North to the New Jersey beach town of Mystic Island to look at the boat.  I arrived in front of a white bi-level house on a sunny Monday April afternoon at about 4:30. The letters on the mailbox said Murphy, with the ‘r’ & the ‘p’ being worn almost completely away due to the heavy salt air.

I walked to the front door and rang the buzzer.  An attractive blonde woman about ten years older than me answered the door. She asked: “Are you the one that called about the boat?”  I said that I was, and she then said that her husband would be home from work in about twenty minutes.  He worked for Resorts International Casino in Atlantic City as their head of maintenance, and he knew everything there was to know about the Cal. docked out back.  

Her name was Betty and as she offered me ice tea she started to talk about the boat.  “It was my husband’s best friend’s boat. Irv and his wife Dee Dee live next door but Irv dropped dead of a heart attack last fall.  My husband and Irv used to take the boat out through the Beach Haven Inlet into the ocean almost every night.  Irv bought the boat new back in 1967, and we moved into this house in 1968.  I can’t even begin to tell you how much fun the two of them had on that old boat.  It’s sat idle, ******* to the bulkhead since last fall, and Dee Dee couldn’t even begin to deal with selling it until her kids convinced her to move to Florida and live with them.  She offered it to my husband Ed but he said the boat would never be the same without Irv on board, and he’d rather see it go to a new owner.  Looking at it every day behind the house just brought back memories of Irv and made him sad all over again every time that he did.”

Just then Ed walked through the door leading from the garage into the house.  “Is this the new sailor I’ve been hearing about,” he said in a big friendly voice.  “That’s me I said,” as we shook hands.  ‘Give me a minute to change and I’ll be right with you.”

As Ed walked me back through the stone yard to the canal behind his house, I noticed something peculiar.  There was no dock at the end of his property.  The boat was tied directly to the sea wall itself with only three yellow and black ‘bumpers’ separating the fiberglass side of the boat from the bulkhead itself.  It was low tide now and the boats keel was sitting in at least two feet of sand and mud.  Ed explained to me that Irv used to have this small channel that they lived on, which was man made, dredged out every year.  Irv also had a dock, but it had even less water underneath it than the bulkhead behind Ed’s house.

Ed said again, “no dredging’s been done this year, and the only way to get the boat out of the small back tributary to the main artery of the bay, is to wait for high tide. The tide will bring the water level up at least six feet.  That will give the boat twenty-four inches of clearance at the bottom and allow you to take it out into the deeper (30 feet) water of the main channel.”

Ed jumped on the boat and said, “C’mon, let me show you the inside.”  As he took the padlock off the slides leading to the companionway, I noticed how motley and ***** everything was. My image of sailing was pristine boats glimmering in the sun with their main sails up and the captain and crew with drinks in their hands.  This was about as far away from that as you could get.  As Ed removed the slides, the smell hit me.  MOLD! The smell of mildew was everywhere, and I could only stay below deck for a moment or two before I had to come back up topside for air.  Ed said, “It’ll all dry out (the air) in about ten minutes, and then we can go forward and look at the V-Berth and the head in the front of the cabin.”

What had I gotten myself into, I thought?  This boat looked beyond salvageable, and I was now looking for excuses to leave. Ed then said, “Look; I know it seems bad, but it’s all cosmetic.  It’s really a fine boat, and if you’re willing to clean it up, it will look almost perfect when you’re done. Before Irv died, it was one of the best looking sailboats on the island.”

In ten more minutes we went back inside.  The damp air had been replaced with fresh air from outside, and I could now get a better look at the galley and salon.  The entire cabin was finished in a reddish brown, varnished wood, with nice trim work along the edges.  It had two single sofas in the main salon that converted into beds at night, with a stainless-steel sink, refrigerator and nice carpeting and curtains.  We then went forward.  The head was about 40’’ by 40’’ and finished in the same wood as the outer cabin.  The toilet, sink, and hand-held shower looked fine, and Ed assured me that as soon as we filled up the water tank, they would all work.

The best part for me though was the v-berth beyond.  It was behind a sold wood varnished door with a beautiful brass grab-rail that helped it open and close. It was large, with a sleeping area that would easily accommodate two people. That, combined with the other two sleeping berths in the main salon, meant that my entire family could spend the night on the boat. I was starting to get really interested!

Ed then said that Irv’s wife Dee Dee was as interested in the boat going to a good home as she was in making any money off the boat.  We walked back up to the cockpit area and sat down across from each other on each side of the tiller.  Ed said, “what do you think?” I admitted to Ed that I didn’t know much about sailboats, and that this would be my first.  He told me it was Irv’s first boat too, and he loved it so much that he never looked at another.

                   Ed Was A Pretty Good Salesman

We then walked back inside the house.  Betty had prepared chicken salad sandwiches, and we all sat out on the back deck to eat.  From here you could see the boat clearly, and its thirty-five-foot mast was now silhouetted in front of the sun that was setting behind the marsh.  It was a very pretty scene indeed.

Ed said,”Dee Dee has left it up to me to sell the boat.  I’m willing to be reasonable if you say you really want it.”  I looked out at what was once a white sailboat, covered in mold and sitting in the mud.  No matter how hard the wind blew, and there was a strong offshore breeze, it was not moving an inch.  I then said to Ed, “would it be possible to come back when the tide is up and you can take me out?”  Ed said he would be glad to, and Saturday around 2:00 p.m. would be a good time to come back. The tide would be up then.  I also asked him if between now and Saturday I could try and clean the boat up a little? This would allow me to really see what I would be buying, and at the very least we’d have a cleaner boat to take out on the water.  Ed said fine.

I spent the next four days cleaning the boat. Armed with four gallons of bleach, rubber gloves, a mask, and more rags than I could count, I started to remove the mold.  It took all week to get the boat free of the mildew and back to being white again. The cushions inside the v-berth and salon were so infested with mold that I threw them up on the stones covering Ed’s back yard. I then asked Ed if he wanted to throw them out — he said that he did.

Saturday came, and Betty had said, “make sure to get here in time for lunch.”  At 11:45 a.m. I pulled up in front of the house.  By this time, we knew each other so well that Betty just yelled down through the screen door, “Let yourself in, Ed’s down by the boat fiddling with the motor.”  The only good thing that had been done since Irv passed away last fall was that Ed had removed the motor from the boat. It was a long shaft Johnson 9.9 horsepower outboard, and he had stored it in his garage.  The motor was over twelve years old, but Ed said that Irv had taken really good care of it and that it ran great.  It was also a long shaft, which meant that the propeller was deep in the water behind the keel and would give the boat more propulsion than a regular shaft outboard would.

I yelled ‘hello’ to Ed from the deck outside the kitchen.  He shouted back, “Get down here, I want you to hear this.”  I ran down the stairs and out the back door across the stones to where Ed was sitting on the boat.  He had the twist throttle in his hand, and he was revving the motor. Just like he had said —it sounded great. Being a lifelong motorcycle and sports car enthusiast, I knew what a strong motor sounded like, and this one sounded just great to me.

“Take the throttle, Ed said,” as I jumped on board.  I revved the motor half a dozen times and then almost fell over.  The boat had just moved about twenty degrees to the starboard (right) side in the strong wind and for the first time was floating freely in the canal.  Now I really felt like I was on a boat.  Ed said, “Are you hungry, or do you wanna go sailing?”  Hoping that it wouldn’t offend Betty I said, “Let’s head out now into the deeper water.” Ed said that Betty would be just fine, and that we could eat when we got back.

As I untied the bow and stern lines, I could tell right away that Ed knew what he was doing.  After traveling less than 100 yards to the main channel leading to the bay, he put the mainsail up and we sailed from that point on.  It was two miles out to the ocean, and he skillfully maneuvered the boat, using nothing but the tiller and mainsheet.  The mainsheet is the block and pulley that is attached from the deck of the cockpit to the boom.  It allows the boom to go out and come back, which controls the speed of the boat. The tiller then allows you to change direction.  With the mainsheet in one hand and the tiller in the other, the magic of sailing was hard to describe.

I was mesmerized watching Ed work the tiller and mainsheet in perfect harmony. The outboard was now tilted back up in the cockpit and out of the water.  “For many years before he bought the motor, Irv and I would take her out, and bring her back in with nothing but the sail, One summer we had very little wind, and Irv and I got stuck out in the ocean. Twice we had to be towed back in by ‘Sea Tow.’  After that Irv broke down and bought the long-shaft Johnson.”

In about thirty minutes we passed through the ‘Great Bay,’ then the Little Egg and Beach Haven Inlets, until we were finally in the ocean.  “Only about 3016 miles straight out there, due East, and you’ll be in London,” Ed said.”  Then it hit me.  From where we were now, I could sail anywhere in the world, with nothing to stop me except my lack of experience. Experience I told myself, was something that I would quickly get. Knowing the exact mileage, said to me that both Ed and Irv had thought about that trip, and maybe had fantasized about doing it together.

    With The Tenuousness Of Life, You Never Know How Much      Time You Have

For two more hours we sailed up and down the coast in front of Long Beach Island.  I could hardly sit down in the cockpit as Ed let me do most of the sailing.  It took only thirty minutes to get the hang of using the mainsheet and tiller, and after an hour I felt like I had been sailing all my life.  Then we both heard a voice come over the radio.  Ed’s wife Betty was on channel 27 of the VHF asking if we were OK and that lunch was still there but the sandwiches were getting soggy.  Ed said we were headed back because the tide had started to go out, and we needed to be back and ******* in less than ninety minutes or we would run aground in the canal.

I sailed us back through the inlets which thankfully were calm that day and back into the main channel leading out of the bay.  Ed then took it from there.  He skillfully brought us up the rest of the channel and into the canal, and in a fairly stiff wind spun the boat 180’ around and gently slid it back into position along the sea wall behind his house.  I had all 3 fenders out and quickly jumped off the boat and up on top of the bulkhead to tie off the stern line once we were safely alongside.  I then tied off the bow-line as Ed said, “Not too tight, you have to allow for the 6-8 feet of tide that we get here every day.”

After bringing down the mainsail, and folding and zippering it safely to the boom, we locked the companionway and headed for the house.  Betty was smoking a cigarette on the back deck and said, “So how did it go boys?” Without saying a word Ed looked directly at me and for one of the few times in my life, I didn’t really know where to begin.

“My God,” I said.  “My God.”  “I’ll take that as good Betty said, as she brought the sandwiches back out from the kitchen.  “You can powerboat your whole life, but sailing is different” Ed told me.  “When sailing, you have to work with the weather and not just try to power through it.  The weather tells you everything.  In these parts, when a storm kicks up you see two sure things happen.  The powerboats are all coming in, and the sailboat’s are all headed out.  What is dangerous and unpleasant for the one, is just what the other hopes for.”

I had been a surfer as a kid and understood the logic.  When the waves got so big on the beach that the lifeguard’s closed it to swimming during a storm, the surfers all headed out.  This would not be the only similarity I would find between surfing and sailing as my odyssey continued.  I finished my lunch quickly because all I wanted to do was get back on the boat.

When I returned to the bulkhead the keel had already touched bottom and the boat was again fixed and rigidly upright in the shallow water.  I spent the afternoon on the back of the boat, and even though I knew it was bad luck, in my mind I changed her name.  She would now be called the ‘Trinity,’ because of the three who would now sail her —my daughter Melissa, my son T.C. and I.  I also thought that any protection I might get from the almighty because of the name couldn’t hurt a new sailor with still so much to learn.

                                  Trinity, It Was!

I now knew I was going to buy the boat.  I went back inside and Ed was fooling around with some fishing tackle inside his garage.  “OK Ed, how much can I buy her for?” I said.  Ed looked at me squarely and said, “You tell me what you think is fair.”  “Five thousand I said,” and without even looking up Ed said “SOLD!” I wrote the check out to Irv’s wife on the spot, and in that instant it became real. I was now a boat owner, and a future deep-water sailor.  The Atlantic Ocean had better watch out, because the Captain and crew of the Trinity were headed her way.

                 SOLD, In An Instant, It Became Real!

I couldn’t wait to get home and tell the kids the news.  They hadn’t seen much of me for the last week, and they both wanted to run right back and take the boat out.  I told them we could do it tomorrow (Sunday) and called Ed to ask him if he’d accompany us one more time on a trip out through the bay.  He said gladly, and to get to his house by 3:00 p.m. tomorrow to ‘play the tide.’  The kids could hardly sleep as they fired one question after another at me about the boat. More than anything, they wanted to know how we would get it the 45 miles from where it was docked to the boat slip behind our condo in Stone Harbor.  At dinner that night at our favorite Italian restaurant, they were already talking about the boat like it was theirs.

The next morning, they were both up at dawn, and by 8:30 we were on our way North to Mystic Island.  We had decided to stop at a marine supply store and buy a laundry list of things that mariners need ‘just in case’ aboard a boat.  At 11:15 a.m. we pulled out of the parking lot of Boaters World in Somers Point, New Jersey, and headed for Ed and Betty’s. They were both sitting in lawn chairs when we got there and surprised to see us so early.  ‘The tide’s not up for another 3 hours,” Ed said, as we walked up the drive.  I told him we knew that, but the kids wanted to spend a couple of hours on the boat before we headed out into the bay.  “Glad to have you kids,” Ed said, as he went back to reading his paper.  Betty told us that anything that we might need, other than what we just bought, is most likely in the garage.

Ed, being a professional maintenance engineer (what Betty called him), had a garage that any handyman would die for.  I’m sure we could have built an entire house on the empty lot across the street just from what Ed had hanging, and piled up, in his garage.

We walked around the side of the house and when the kids got their first look at the boat, they bolted for what they thought was a dock.  When they saw it was raw bulkhead, they looked back at me unsure of what to do.  I said, ‘jump aboard,” but be careful not to fall in, smiling to myself and knowing that the water was still less than four feet deep.  With that, my 8-year old son took a flying leap and landed dead center in the middle of the cockpit — a true sailor for sure.  My daughter then pulled the bow line tight bringing the boat closer to the sea wall and gingerly stepped on board like she had done it a thousand times before. Watching them board the boat for the first time, I knew this was the start of something really good.

Ed had already unlocked the companionway, so I stayed on dry land and just watched them for a half-hour as they explored every inch of the boat from bow to stern. “You really did a great job Dad cleaning her up.  Can we start the motor, my son asked?” I told him as soon as the tide came up another foot, we would drop the motor down into the water, and he could listen to it run.  So far this was everything I could have hoped for.  My kids loved the boat as much as I did.  I had had the local marine artist come by after I left the day before and paint the name ‘Trinity’ across the outside transom on the back of the boat. Now this boat was really ours. It’s hard to explain the thrill of finally owning your first boat. To those who can remember their first Christmas when they finally got what they had been hoping for all year —the feeling was the same.

                            It Was Finally Ours

In another hour, Ed came out. We fired up the motor with my son in charge, unzipped the mainsail, untied the lines, and we were headed back out to sea.  I’m not sure what was wider that day, the blue water vista straight in front of us or the eyes of my children as the boat bit into the wind. It was keeled over to port and carved through the choppy waters of ‘The Great Bay’ like it was finally home. For the first time in a long time the kids were speechless.  They let the wind do the talking, as the channel opened wide in front of them.

Ed let both kids take a turn at the helm. They were also amazed at how much their father had learned in the short time he had been sailing.  We stayed out for a full three hours, and then Betty again called on the VHF. “Coast Guards calling for a squall, with small craft warnings from five o’clock on.  For safety’s sake, you guy’s better head back for the dock.”  Ed and I smiled at each other, each knowing what the other was secretly thinking.  If the kids hadn’t been on board, this would have been a really fun time to ride out the storm.  Discretion though, won out over valor, and we headed West back through the bay and into the canal. Once again, Ed spun the boat around and nudged it into the sea wall like the master that he was.  This time my son was in charge of grabbing and tying off the lines, and he did it in a fashion that would make any father proud.

As we tidied up the boat, Ed said, “So when are you gonna take her South?”  “Next weekend, I said.” My business partner, who lives on his 42’ Egg Harbor in Cape May all summer and his oldest son are going to help us.  His oldest son Tony had worked on an 82’ sightseeing sailboat in Fort Lauderdale for two years, and his dad said there was little about sailing that he didn’t know.  That following Saturday couldn’t come fast enough/

                          We Counted The Minutes

The week blew by (literally), as the weather deteriorated with each day.  Saturday morning came, and the only good news (to me) was that my daughter had a gymnastic’s meet and couldn’t make the maiden voyage. The crew would be all men —my partner Tommy, his son Tony, and my son T.C. and I. We checked the tides, and it was decided that 9:30 a.m. was the perfect time to start South with the Trinity.  We left for Ed and Betty’s at 7:00 a.m. and after stopping at ‘Polly’s’ in Stone Harbor for breakfast we arrived at the boat at exactly 8:45.  It was already floating freely in the narrow canal. Not having Ed’s skill level, we decided to ‘motor’ off the bulkhead, and not put the sails up until we reached the main bay.  With a kiss to Betty and a hug from Ed, we broke a bottle of ‘Castellane Brut’ on the bulkhead and headed out of the canal.

Once in the main bay we noticed something we hadn’t seen before. We couldn’t see at all!  The buoy markers were scarcely visibly that lined both sides of the channel. We decided to go South ‘inside,’ through the Intercoastal Waterway instead of sailing outside (ocean) to Townsends Inlet where we initially decided to come in.  This meant that we would have to request at least 15 bridge openings on our way south.  This was a tricky enough procedure in a powerboat, but in a sailboat it could be a disaster in the making.  The Intercoastal Waterway was the back-bay route from Maine to Florida and offered protection that the open ocean would not guarantee. It had the mainland to its West and the barrier island you were passing to its East.  If it weren’t for the number of causeway bridges along its route, it would have been the perfect sail.

When you signaled to the bridge tender with your air horn, requesting an opening, it could sometimes take 10 or 15 minutes for him to get traffic stopped on the bridge before he could then open it up and let you through.  On Saturdays, it was worse. In three cases we waited and circled for twenty minutes before being given clear passage through the bridge.  Sailboats have the right of way over powerboats but only when they’re under sail. We had decided to take the sails down to make the boat easier to control.  By using the outboard we were just like any other powerboat waiting to get through, and often had to bob and weave around the waiting ‘stinkpots’ (powerboats) until the passage under the bridge was clear.  The mast on the Trinity was higher than even the tallest bridge, so we had to stop and signal to each one requesting an opening as we traveled slowly South.

All went reasonably well until we arrived at the main bridge entering Atlantic City. The rebuilt casino skyline hovered above the bridge like a looming monster in the fog.  This was also the bridge with the most traffic coming into town with weekend gamblers risking their mortgage money to try and break the bank.  The wind had now increased to over 30 knots.  This made staying in the same place in the water impossible. We desperately criss-crossed from side to side in the canal trying to stay in position for when the bridge opened. Larger boats blew their horns at us, as we drifted back and forth in the channel looking like a crew of drunks on New Year’s Eve.  Powerboats are able to maintain their position because they have large motors with a strong reverse gear.  Our little 9.9 Johnson did have reverse, but it didn’t have nearly enough power to back us up against the tide.

On our third pass zig-zagging across the channel and waiting for the bridge to open, it happened.  Instead of hearing the bell from the bridge tender signaling ‘all clear,’ we heard a loud “SNAP.’ Tony was at the helm, and from the front of the boat where I was standing lookout I heard him shout “OH S#!T.”  The wooden tiller had just broken off in his hand.

                                         SNAP!

Tony was sitting down at the helm with over three feet of broken tiller in his left hand.  The part that still remained and was connected to the rudder was less than 12 inches long.  Tony tried with all of his might to steer the boat with the little of the tiller that was still left, but it was impossible in the strong wind.  He then tried to steer the boat by turning the outboard both left and right and gunning the motor.  This only made a small correction, and we were now headed back across the Intercoastal Waterway with the wind behind us at over thirty knots.  We were also on a collision course with the bridge.  The only question was where we would hit it, not when! We hoped and prayed it would be as far to the Eastern (Atlantic City) side as possible.  This would be away from the long line of boats that were patiently lined up and waiting for the bridge to open.

Everything on the boat now took on a different air.  Tony was screaming that he couldn’t steer, and my son came up from down below where he was staying out of the rain. With one look he knew we were in deep trouble.  It was then that my priorities completely shifted from the safety of my new (old) boat to the safety of my son and the rest of those onboard.  My partner Tommy got on the radio’s public channel and warned everyone in the area that we were out of control.  Several power boaters tried to throw us a line, but in the strong wind they couldn’t get close enough to do it safely.

We were now less than 100 feet from the bridge.  It looked like we would hit about seven pylons left of dead center in the middle of the bridge on the North side.  As we braced for impact, a small 16 ft Sea Ray with an elderly couple came close and tried to take my son off the boat.  Unfortunately, they got too close and the swirling current around the bridge piers ****** them in, and they also hit the bridge about thirty feet to our left. Thank God, they did have enough power to ‘motor’ off the twenty-foot high pier they had hit but not without doing cosmetic damage to the starboard side of their beautiful little boat. I felt terrible about this and yelled ‘THANK YOU’ across the wind and the rushing water.  They waved back, as they headed North against the tide, back up the canal.

      The Kindness Of Strangers Continues To Amaze Me!

BANG !!!  That’s the sound the boat made when it hit the bridge.  We were now sideways in the current, and the first thing to hit was not the mast but the starboard side ‘stay’ that holds the mast up.  Stays are made of very thick wire, and even though the impact was at over ten knots, the stay held secure and did not break.  We were now pinned against the North side of the bridge, with the current swirling by us, and the boat being pulled slowly through the opening between the piers.  The current was pulling the boat and forcing it to lean over with the mast pointing North. If it continued to do this, we would finally broach (turn over) and all be in the water and floating South toward the beach towns of Margate and Ventnor.  The width between the piers was over thirty feet, so there was plenty of room to **** us in and then down, as the water had now assumed command.

It was at this moment that I tied my Son to myself.  He was a good swimmer and had been on our local swim team for the past three summers, but this was no pool.  There were stories every summer of boaters who got into trouble and had to go in the water, and many times someone drowned or was never found or seen again.  The mast was now leaned over and rubbing against the inside of the bridge.  

The noise it made moving back and forth was louder than even the strong wind.  Over the noise from the mast I heard Tommy shout, “Kurt, the stay is cutting through the insulation on the main wire that is the power source to the bridge. If it gets all the way through to the inside, the whole boat will be electrified, and we’ll go up like a roman candle.”  I reluctantly looked up and he was right.  The stay looked like it was more than half-way through the heavy rubber insulation that was wrapped around the enormous cable that ran horizontally inside and under the entire span of the bridge.  I told Tommy to get on the VHF and alert the Coast Guard to what was happening.  I also considered jumping overboard with my son in my arms and tied to me hoping that someone would then pull us out of the water if we made it through the piers. I couldn’t leave though, because my partner couldn’t swim.

Even though Tommy had been a life-long boater, he had never learned to swim.  He grew up not far from the banks of the Mississippi River in Hardin Illinois and still hadn’t learned.  I couldn’t just leave him on the boat. We continued to stay trapped in between the piers as the metal wire stay worked its way back and forth across the insulated casing above.

In another fifteen minutes, two Coast Guard crews showed up in gigantic rubber boats.  Both had command towers up high and a crew of at least 8 on board.  They tried to get close enough to throw us a line but each time failed and had to motor away against the tide at full throttle to miss the bridge.  The wake from their huge twin outboards forced us even further under the bridge, and the port side rail of the Trinity was now less than a foot above the water line.

              Why Had I Changed The Name Of This Boat?

The I heard it again, BAMMM !  I looked up and saw nothing.  It all looked like it had before.  The Coast Guard boat closest to us came across on the bullhorn. “Don’t touch anything metal, you’ve cut through the insulation and are now in contact with the power source.  The boat is electrified, but if you stay still, the fiberglass and water will act as a buffer and insulation.  We can’t even touch or get near you now until the power gets turned off to the bridge.”  

We all stood in the middle of the cockpit as far away from anything metal as possible.  I reached into the left storage locker where the two plastic gas containers were and tightened the filler caps. I then threw both of them overboard.  They both floated harmlessly through the bridge where a third Coast Guard boat now retrieved them about 100 yards further down the bay.  At least now I wouldn’t have to worry about the two fifteen-gallon gas cans exploding if the electrical current ever got that far.

For a long twenty minutes we sat there huddled together as the Coast Guard kept yelling at us not to touch anything at all.  Just as I thought the boat was going under, everything seemed to go dark.  Even though it was early afternoon, the fog was so heavy that the lights on the bridge had been turned on.  Now in an instant, they were off.

                               All Lights Were Off

I saw the first Coast Guard boat turn around and then try to slowly drift our way backward. They were going to try and get us out from between the piers before we sank.  Three times they tried and three times again they failed.  Finally, two men in a large cigarette boat came flying at us. With those huge motors keeping them off the bridge, they took everyone off the Trinity, while giving me two lines to tie to both the bow and the stern. They then pulled up alongside the first large inflatable and handed the two lines to the Coast Guard crew.  After that, they backed off into the center of the channel to see what the Coast Guard would do next.

The second Coast Guard boat was now positioned beside the first with its back also facing the bridge.  They each had one of the lines tied to my boat now secured to cleats on their rear decks.  Slowly they motored forward as the Trinity emerged from its tomb inside the piers.  In less than fifteen seconds, the thirty-year boat old was free of the bridge.  With that, the Coast Guard boat holding the stern line let go and the sailboat turned around with the bow now facing the back of the first inflatable. The Captain continued to tow her until she was alongside the ‘Sea Tow’ service vessel that I hadn’t noticed until now.  The Captain on the Sea Tow rig said that he would tow the boat into Somers Point Marina.  That was the closest place he knew of that could make any sailboat repairs.

We thanked the owners of the cigarette boat and found out that they were both ex-navy seals.  ‘If they don’t die hard, some never die at all,’ and thank God for our nation’s true warriors. They dropped us off on Coast Guard Boat #1, and after spending about 10 minutes with the crew, the Captain asked me to come up on the bridge.  He had a mound of papers for me to fill out and then asked me if everyone was OK. “A little shook up,’” I said, “but we’re all basically alright.” I then asked this ‘weekend warrior’ if he had ever seen the movie ‘Top Gun.’  With his chest pushed out proudly he said that he had, and that it was one of his all-time favorites.

            ‘If They Don’t Die hard, Some Never Die At All’

I reminded him of the scene when the Coast Guard rescue team dropped into the rough waters of the Pacific to retrieve ‘Goose,’ who had just hit the canopy of his jet as he was trying to eject.  With his chest still pumped out, he said again proudly that he did. “Well, I guess that only happens in the movies, right Captain,” I said, as he turned back to his paperwork and looked away.

His crew had already told me down below that they wanted to approach the bridge broadside and take us off an hour ago but that the Captain had said no, it was too dangerous!  They also said that after his tour was over in 3 more months, no one would ever sail with him again.  He was the only one on-board without any real active-duty service, and he always shied away from doing the right thing when the weather was rough.  He had refused to go just three more miles last winter to rescue two fishermen off a sinking trawler forty miles offshore.  Both men died because he had said that the weather was just “too rough.”

                     ‘A True Weekend Only Warrior’

We all sat with the crew down below as they entertained my son and gave us hot coffee and offered medical help if needed.  Thankfully, we were all fine, but the coffee never tasted so good.  As we pulled into the marina in Somers Point, the Trinity was already there and tied to the service dock.  After all she had been through, she didn’t look any the worse for wear.  It was just then that I realized that I still hadn’t called my wife.  I could have called from the Coast Guard boat, but in the commotion of the moment, I had totally forgotten.

When I got through to her on the Marina’s pay phone, she said,  “Oh Dear God, we’ve been watching you on the news. Do you know you had the power turned off to all of Atlantic City for over an hour?”  After hanging up, I thought to myself —"I wonder what our little excursion must have cost the casino’s,” but then I thought that they probably had back up generation for something just like this, but then again —maybe not.

I asked my wife to come pick us up and noticed that my son was already down at the service dock and sitting on the back of his ‘new’ sailboat.  He said, “Dad, do you think she’ll be alright?” and I said to him, “Son, she’ll be even better than that. If she could go through what happened today and remain above water, she can go through anything — and so can you.  I’m really proud of the way you handled yourself today.”

My Son is now almost thirty years old, and we talk about that day often. The memory of hitting the bridge and surviving is something we will forever share.  As a family, we continued to sail the Trinity for many years until our interests moved to Wyoming.  We then placed the Trinity in the capable hands of our neighbor Bobby, next door, who sails her to this day.

All through those years though, and especially during the Stone Harbor Regatta over the Fourth of July weekend, there was no mistaking our crew when you saw us coming through your back basin in the ‘Parade of Ships.’  Everyone aboard was dressed in a red polo shirt, and if you happened to look at any of us from behind, you would have seen …

                               ‘The Crew Of The Trinity’  
                         FULL CONTACT SAILING ONLY!
052824

Sa tuwing hinahagis ko
Ang aking sarili Sa’yong harapan,
Ay nais kong isakatapuran Mo rin
Ang bawat pangakong inilathala’t
Ipinagtibay ng dugong dumanak sa Krus.

Sa tuwing kumukulimlim na
Ang aking mga mata’y
Gusto kong magtago Sa’yong lilim
At doon ang aking pahinga.

Isisigaw ko ang lahat ng aking pangamba
At lulusawin ng pag-ibig Mo
Ang bawat tinik na pumipigil sa’kin para huminga.

At kung pupwede lang
Na patigilan Mo ang bawat ritmo ng oras
Upang panandaliang maibsan ang aking pangungulila —
Kung pwede lang sana.

Sa mga buhangin ng aking pagkukunwari’y
Kusa Mo akong aanyayahan
Sa malalim at malawak **** karagatan.
At kailan nga ba ako matututo?
Kailan nga ba kita masisilayan
At massasabi nang aking mga mata’y
Ikaw ang tanging totoo?

Nasasabik ako
Sa tuwing sasalubungin Mo ako ng pag-asa
At kalakip pala ng pagtiklop ng bawat umaga’y
Ang yakap **** mainit
Na tumatawag sa’kin na mas piliin pa ang malalim.

Taliwas sa aking sariling prinsipyong
Binahiran ng mga haka-haka
Ang kapangyarihan ng tunay na pananampalataya.
At Sa’yo pala mawawalang bisa
Ang bawat kuro-kurong
Hinayaan kong magsilbing masasamang damo
Sa hardin ng aking pagkatao.

Ngayo’y bubuksan kong muli
Ang aking pintuan
At wala nang iba pang makagagapi
Sa Tinig **** ginawa ko nang pader
At pugad ng aking bukas
Na Sa’yo ko lamang iniaalay.
Ako'y kakatok sa pintuan ng Diyos
Dala-dala ang mga kasalanang inipon

Sa paglalakad
Tangan-tangan ang pagsisisi
At labis na pangamba
Na baka sa bakod pa lamang ng hardin
Ay tanaw ko nang sarado ang
Pintuan ng Maykapal

Ako'y tatangis na parang paslit
Sa mga panahong alam kong gawin ang tama
Pero ipinilit na mali

Ako'y nagsusumamong pakinggan
Ang mga panalangin para sa kamag-anak
Gabayan sana ang minamahal na nahihimbing

Naghihikahos kong ipinagdarasal
Ang aking kaluluwa
Kasama ng bawat putik at sangsang na nakadikit
Bawat pintas at kahambugan

Ako sana'y pagbuksan muli ng pinto
O Diyos na makapangyarihan
at sa tuwing suwail ang mundo
kapag ipapakita nito sa'yo ang pangit sa pangit
tuwing dama mo ang pag iisa sa kabila ng piling ng iba
kapag tila inuunti unti tayo sa sarili nating mga laman at loob
hayaan **** kainin kita
hayaan mo akong kainin lahat ng di kaaya ayang pakiramdam
hayaan **** pakainin kita ng libog, kilig at lambing
hayaan **** pakainin kita sa labas at sa loob ng hardin
dahil kahit galing ka pa sa labi at balat ng iba
dahil kahit nagmumog ka pa sa pawis, laway o dura
tanggap pa rin kita kahit mayroong pangalawa
anuman ang mangyari o mag iba man ang lasa lulunukin pa rin kita.
Ace Jhan de Vera Sep 2019
Tigilan na ang pagluha,
Wag sirain ang bagay na binuo mo,
Sa tagal mo nang humahara sa pagsubok,
Ni isa walang nakapagpabuwal sayo.

Madami ka ng naidilig sa lupa,
Ilang bulaklak na ang iyong napatubo?
Gamit ang iyong mga kamay,
Ang mga bubot ay nagmistulang mga rosas.

Hindi mapagkakailang mahapdi at masakit,
Ang ang bulaklak sa iyong hardin,
Hindi ka na makalapit,
Pero tandaan maari pa siyang pagmasdan
Kahit malayo, iyong alalayan.

Ngunit darating ang panahon,
Puso’y maghihilom,
Tatagan lamang ang dibdib,
Saluhin ang sarili gamit ang sariling bisig.

Kakayanin mo ito,
Wag ka pagagapi,
Kaya tahan na,
Wag hayaang,
Ang mga multong ginawa sa para sarili,
Makapasok sa tahanan pa.
reyftamayo Jul 2020
ang kulay ng mga halaman
sa hardin ng paraiso
na kung saan ay nagkikiskisan
ang mga hubad na katawan ng tao
ito rin ang kulay ng mundong
nabuo sa malikot na isip ko
dahil pakiramdamdam ko
ay nag-iinit ako
sa tuwing madarama ang alindog mo.
ewan ko ba
siguro tama ka
berde ako.
Chit Jun 2020
Nang araw na iyon
Minulat ko ang aking mga mata
Kasabay ng pagsikat ng araw
Sinimulan ko  ang labahin
Kasabay ng pagdilig sa hardin
Sinimulan ko na rin ang pagluto ng Sinigang
Kasabay ng sinaing
Sinimulan ko na rin ang paglampaso sa sahig
Kasabay ng hiling na sana'y hindi na kita isipin.

Nang araw na iyon
May nakalimutan pa ko?

Wala na.

Kasi kahit birthday mo
Hindi ko magawang
Kalimutan.
Hank Love Oct 2020
"Step right up
And give it a go!
Ladies and gentlemen
Prepare for a show!

With my elixir,
You'll see oh so fine!
Step right up!
Who will be first in line?


A man makes his way
To the front of the stage.
"I only have one question,
How is it made?"

The man shakes his head
And smiles with pride
"It's an old family secret,
I cannot tell you what contents
Are held inside!"

But it costs a shilling
And not a cent more;
This is a deal
You shouldn't throw out your door!"

"But What's the trick?
What is the catch?"

"To Prove you are quick!
And the others are no match!
But i will agree,
You'll want me to prove!
Watch and you'll see,
Your aiming improve!"

The pistol is fired,
The hat is thrown in the air!
No more enjoyment
Would one find there!

The pistols fired,
The lead hits the hat!
What more excitement
Would you feel rather than that!

"How is it done?
How can it be?"
Asks the mammoth crowd
Gathered as far as the eye can see.

Amongst them there,
In the crowd A man stood
None other than Mister Hardin
Who was up to no good.

"You're a fraud," said he.
"It is easy to tell!
You're quite the schemer,
And I'll send you to hell!"

The pistol is fired,
As death fills the air
Twas the last time
That Johnny  did not play fair.

— The End —