Friday, December 12, 2008

La Belle Dame sans Amour

He saw her pass by
Crossing with familiar rush
A figure caught in strobe

A tree stripped bare in the Fall
Like watercolor blotting badly,
Rouge melting on pudgy skin

Is that she? He asked
Surely not she, he thought
There unmasked in stark light

He loved her truly
They all did, too
Who asked you? She said

Thursday, December 11, 2008


I tell you greed is grasping
It roots on acid ground
Sucks the juice of the muck
Even at the last gasp
Clings with avid vines
On broken slabs and angels
With cracked cement wings

I tell you greed is quenchless
It begrudges the sun its brilliance
Envious of the moon’s glow
Sweeps all the stardust and
Gathers them with a dustpan
And stores them in dark rooms
Gloating in demented joy

I tell you greed is without compassion
Thriving on hedonistic nurture
Denying closeness and amity
Cuts off the umbilical nexus
Shun familial obligations
Shrugs off the flakes of conscience
From the black dress of indifference

I tell you greed is shameless
Ecstatic in pelf and exaggerated self worth
Gloats over riches felt deserved
Forgetful and incognizant of God’s grace
Jingling patina encrusted coins
Amused and savoring the endless count
In glee…in endless count…in glee

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Amihan - A Season of Hope

Amihan played in the grove
Touching leaves and sprigs
Breathing on mango blooms
Leaving freshness on the gnarls
Stirring the furry caterpillars
Asleep on curled green sheets

Now the risen sun cast its glare
Striking out with its searing blaze
Soon Amihan shooed and scuttled
Moved on to friendlier milieus
Of green glades and cooler climes
Enjoying the comfort of amiable arbors

Oh kind and merciful Amihan
Let not the tyrant sun sow malevolence
On a withered and desolate grove
Come back and give succor to
The creatures of the green mantle
Threatened by the scorching glare

Come now and save your flock
Never again must you stray
Blot out the hand of the despot sun
Bring back freshness into our clime
Return the peace and the comfort
To a beleaguered and desperate people

Saturday, December 06, 2008

The Muse

Traipsing the mountain slopes
Even before the sun had crossed
The distant nebulous endless line

In flight with swifts, flitting motes
Scratching the inner eye
Blurred in the cottony haze

I know she’s somewhere there
In the velvet glow of dawn, but
Never in the glare of noon

Come let me feel your touch again
Restore my quills’ vibrant strokes
Put fecundity in my sterile pad

She comes only at her will
Flirty lady, insensitive bitch
I am but a waif at your whimsy


Strange fates and unwanted destinies
Stuck and ensconced on us like barnacles
Adding to our discomfort and dismay
Evanescent ease, inconstant joys
Our inheritance from alien origins
Undeserved legacy foisted on us

Our sojourn is not from ease to ease
But rather moving from worse to worst
Snatching bread from mouth to mouth
Living lives from barrenness to little worth
Can you find a hiatus from this affliction?
Yes, but, it's an infinitesimal wait.