A Pointillist Morning

Off-white mist rising on the ridge
Hurrying into the emptiness between trees
Lost in a thick stroke of green curlicues
Then splattered by a sudden breeze
Like silver droplets scattered by a frisky dog
Shaking off unwanted cold rain
Glistening like playful carmine dots on a
Mantle of matted threads of emeralds
A sudden inspiration, a shimmer of yellow birds
Explodes like a roman candle in sparkling hues
Filling the cerulean sky with tiny glittering flakes
The scene, now in orderly chaos and panic
Strewing golden leaves and bronzen twigs
Blotting over an increasing spread
A canvas speckled with lusty colors
Of an artist’s special view of
A morning by the ridge

To Alicia Back From Dubai

Throw the door wide open and rejoice
With spread arms and welcoming laughter
Oh, my beloved is back from a long sojourn
A perilous odyssey in distant shores

She walked in with silent grace emerging
With familiarity that rekindled the house lamps
Perhaps I will enthrone her there
On the ornate chair at the head of the table

And all the people who came to greet
Curious idlers whiling away the time of day
Will notice her tired but brilliant glow
Modest elegance, with simple flair

Reach out and hold my hand, beloved
Let you and I bask in the familial warmth
Come, adorn my hearth and home
Bringing back affection and care

Open your bag brimming
With your homecoming gifts
Wrapped in happy paper prints
For those huddling by your side

You’re beside us once more
Delirious with joyful affection
Dust and scrape your wayward roving shoes
Never to leave the welcome mat by the door

Graduation Post Script

When we were through with our scholastic years

And have returned to the happy slant of things

Bid hello again to the lively reality of out of school

Relieved from poring heavy tome upon tome

Wanting in words to describe the relief the hiatus caused

From the rigors and hardships of a disciplined way of life

The august halls of the alma mater a prison now behind us

And parchment scroll did seem irrelevant to our lives

The college library had graffiti on its mottled walls

The carillon pealed from cracked bells jangling hymns

A heavy yellow pall spread clammily in the quadrangle

The dean was in disrespect, the faculty tainted, we were sure

But what of the mind?, The cultivation of which

Unknowingly, surreptitiously had been honed to face

The challenges of a reality then far imagined

Clearing the muddled glasses of youthful views

Soon we realize that the years behind the ivied walls

Were not stones wasted and skimmed in an algae filled pond

Later as we mused and pondered complexities of existence

That would have stunned us dumb had we not persisted

Morning Bells and Prayers

The bells rang raucously
As they have always done at six
They rang late for the devoted one
Who was out of bed by five

They rang too soon for some
Who need not wake at such a time
A stolen hour from someone’s rest
To restore strength to work the day

The loudspeakers shouted rudely
On the day’s crack of dawn
Waking every creature from their stupor
Rousing their faith with noisome pleas

The voices buzzed with electric crackle
Intelligible cackle cutting through the fog
It’s done no good for all its intentions
Unwanted annoyance to start the day

Black Bamboo

The black bamboo fronds reached low
Swinging to every blustery blow of the westerly
Up and down, to and fro, left and right
But rising to straighten not staying low for long
Like erect whips snapping lively at impassive clouds
Lashing out against phantom scars and imagined foes

With momentary lulls they spring back to uprightness
The wee creatures at the lower branches stir and chirp
As if a siren sounded the respite and the return of the calm
The bamboo shed encrusted scales relieving the itch
Caused by the constant strain of heaving, stooping and rising
Then it stooped so low, creaked and broke its battered bole

Not even the sparrows at the bowers could, despite their cheering
Set it back to its poised air and proud bearing
The waste left by an unbending and unyielding pride
The litter of the green flaky rust lay on sodden floor
Who is to clean up? Who is to wield the broom?
No, not us. No, not the wind, not you nor I

Terrorism

The zeal of the crusades
Persists resolutely to this day
Shackling the tractable faithful and
Hounding the wretched infidels

Missions more impassioned than ever
In fulfilling their avowed vision for all
Insistence rather than tolerance and suasion
Contrary beliefs and rights repressed

Other faiths fight back with fanatic fervor
Striking with flaming blades the unbeliever
The whiter the flash the redder the carnage
The louder the blast the more terror sown

Death to the cohorts bearing the cross
Sowing terror is ruthless intolerance, but,
Saint George and Michael Archangel delivering
Fire and brimstone to the heathen yet another

Rainy Day

Rain chatters annoyingly
An incessant harangue on metal sheets
Drums, grates, pesters my listlessness

A lackluster sun sinks ever so weakly
On a jagged silhouette of somber evergreens
Its gilt edge no more than erose rustiness

I remember the ugliness of the day
The slate gray of twilight taking over
Amidst the harassment of an obstinate rain

Nocturne

Listen, the footfall of padded paws thud
As twilight wafts its melancholy tune
The traipsing of furtive mannequins into the scene
To start the commerce of the night
Ah, angels on hocked wings mingling in the shuffle
Of insatiable lusts of men of all skins

A nightlong stance of enticement and allure
No rest, nor ease through the cold and apathetic dark
No help, no solace from a sometimes provident night
Singles, pairs or even threes they hustle corners
In tatty glad-rags and blackened rouge they sell
Ersatz affection, snatches of bliss to blighted souls

Heaven has no ears to hearken to piteous plaints
From cracked lips and blistered tongues
They push their trade until soles run raw
Waifs with scarred heels hide in scaly shadows
Oh, what lassitude shrouds the night air
In the blazing red light of a false sunrise

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

Greed

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

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

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

Dysphoria

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.

David's Poems

Poems written by my ten year old grandson, David Belmonte as part of school work.

My Magic Box

I will put in the box

The red roses in a raspberry field,

The silver in a gold mine and

The last Dodo on Earth.

I will put in the Box

The feathers of five flaming Phoenixes,

A soul from heaven and hell and

the last star in the Universe.

I will put in the Box

A golden summer whale on the sapphire sea,

A bird with four legs and a wolf that glides.

I will put in the Box

A scorpion with no stingers but seven claws,

The red scale of a blue dragon and

a mother’s last wish before death.

Elegy

When I’m alone, I think of you,

When I walk around, I hear your voice,

Whenever I look at the moon, I always see your face,

Thinking you might be around,

But knowing that you’re gone…

When I was young, you took care of me…

When I was young, you left me here…

I believe you still exist today,

I believe that you haven’t left,

But still, I know that you’re gone.

When you passed away, I thought you weren’t gone,

I thought you were moving, I thought you were still here,

But then I realized, a part of me was missing.

But still, I knew that part was you.

Sorrow is the knife that stabs me in the heart,

Death is the sickly arrow that separated us,

Now I don’t know what to do,

Without your guidance I wouldn’t understand,

But still, I know that you’re gone.

It’s hard to be brave about it,

I wish you were still here,

But I know that we will meet again,

So I look forward to that one day,

Where I will be re-united once again…

Ode

You are the miracle that guided me to happiness,

The one that helped get through the darkness,

Who saved me from my own sadness,

The savior of my life and the giver of my heart.

The hero that guided my soul to victory,

You are the reality that does not end,

Continuing every day and night,

The dreams are sent by you.

Unusual in it’s own way, creating forms,

Forms of different kind, unique and untraceable,

These dreams can be anything or anywhere,

Every corner of a dream hides something,

Like a secret or a new feeling.

A land where nothing sleeps, eats or drinks,

A mysterious place where nothing rules,

Nothing hates, nothing likes,

A private area to relax in a bed of emotions,

Unknown to the world and a mystery to all,

Nobody knows, so it’s all mine!

Personification

I smite your happiness with my raging fist

It is I that fills you with negative thoughts

For I bring calamity and hatred to your soul

It is I, Anger.

Minding your own business

Then a corrupted surge goes through

Leaving you in a daze of black and red

Slowly entering your mind…

I am normal to those who hate

Those who disrespect others

It is I that makes them feel hateful

It is I that makes them careless

My box is styled with rocks, diamonds and bones.

It has steel on the lid and emotions in the corners.

It’s hinges are the toes of Ostriches.

I will fly in my box and land in the waters

of the calm sea and ride the creatures in it.

Then I will move the stars with it.

I will put in the Box

A poem’s end and a Final word:

END

Undas

November one brings out the past
With trees pushing tombstones
Daring to put gaiety with somber blooms
Roots plowing the miry ground
Dig up marrowless bones
Upturning loam for lost loves
Nothing but twigs craving for affection

Last week’s inundation
Brought the merciful flood
Sweeping the steles and slabs
Washing off the mud from angels’ faces
Stirring worms from their stupor
Giving life and luster to the gloom
Stirring remembrances just for the nonce

Candles flickering, flowers wilting
Children balling up candle wax
Endless chatter and radios blaring
Pots simmering, candy wraps crinkling
Adobo and dried fish spread on banana leaves
Atop foot high whitened sepulchers
Sharing repasts with the dear departed

The grateful dead cast an approving smile
Reward enough that’s worth your while
You have to believe that this is true
To do next year what you’ve just been through

5 tanka trials (5)

A Christmas Moment
Christmas lights flickered
In the darkening twilight
I beheld a smile
A beaming more radiant than
Moonglow through leafy silhouettes


Black Beauties
Fearsome black twins
Growling at strange intrusions
Flashing hostile fangs
Feigning ferocity to all
But truly amiable dogs

Bouquet
Garden flowers wait
For the beautiful lady
With gentle hands pluck
Roses, Azaleas in bloom
To grace a potter’s fine urn

Fading
Where is yesterday’s
Colored mantle on the lawn?
Gone without bidding
Adieu to the vibrant scene
Leaving only boring green

Ants
Hush now and be still
Listen to the hustling ants
Leaves, kernels, grains
Busy lugging and hauling
Precious gifts to the Queen

Taal Volcano

...........................Taal Volcanoooooo

it’s
just
a little
islet afloat
in an expanse
so serene and quiet
only a pulsating ember
creeps out of the milky mist
blazing violence now rarely seen
children on horseback on your slopes
unaware of the havoc you once caused

Light And Dark

Oh, the dark is a bottomless hole
Where evil and malice hold cabal
Conspiring against joy and delight
From fear and angst they brew
A maelstrom of nightmares
And watering roots of torment

Ah, Light, a boundless sky
Radiant with rainbows and
Swallows endlessly streaming
On a backdrop of green forests
And magnificent mountain crests
A display of God’s munificence

Darkness hides in inky pits
Conceals malice and malignant guilt
Light shines bright in splendor
Proclaiming truth and beauty
Yet Light thrives only in darkness
Without it no shine or glory

Leaving By Taxi

Tell him not to go
Tug at his coat sleeves
Cry out in plea
Won’t you?

He’s going now
All suited up in black
Sullen cabbie waits
In a gaudy hack

Cab fare is ready
Two minted coppers
On his very eyes
The flag went down

The taxi crept
In an unhurried pace
The radio droned a hymn
I heard him hum the tune

The hack sputtered
Bade goodbye to each block
Past known haunts and faces
Turning last into a gated arch

Being Human

Lord I do not wish
To hide from you
I’m too lazy, I say

You molded me
From lowly clay
Am I to blame?

Can I help it
If I err?
Only human, I say

Free will is
A handy phrase
Is it really there?

Glory I can’t own
The Fall, as well
Not mine to will, I say

It is God’s grace
If undeserved
Failure is the Devil’s

Conscience perplexed
Helpless yet blamed
Innocent but guilty

Simple minded me
In a quandary, accept
A mystery, I say