poems

1. PROEM
Jose Garcia Villa
The meaning of a poem is not a meaning of words.
The meaning of a poem is a symbol like the breathlessness of birds.
A poem cannot be repeated in paraphrase.
A poem is not a thought but a grace.
A poem has no meaning but loveliness.
A poem has no purpose than to caress.
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2. SONNET I
Jose Garcia Villa
First, a poem must be magical,
Then musical as a sea gull.
It must be a brightness moving
And hold secret a bird's flowering.
It must be slender as a bell,
And it must hold fire as well.
It must have the wisdom of bows
And it must kneel like a rose.
It must be able to hear
The luminance of dove and deer.
It must be able to hide
What it seeks, like a bride.
And over all I would like to hover
God, smiling from the poem's cover.
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3. PICTURE SHOW
Guillermo Castillo
By God's divine will,
I waken sitting in the dark
with my attention set
upon a Screen before me
while God behind me in His closet
with His intricate machines
projects a Moving Picture Show
a masterpiece which we call-Life.

4. FILIPINA
Tarrosa Subido
You wonder why my feelings
For you, my love, are sung,
And never plainly phrased by
The unaffecting tongue.
It is because my passions
Are restless, rash, and strong-
To native sense immodest
Unless expressed in song.
I have made Speech and Song,
I have tried Silence, too,
But all interpret ill the thoughts
My heart would speak to you.
A motion of the hand, perhaps
Half-wanton, half-withholding
And such a smile, and such a glance,
Would best be love's unfolding-
Meaning that while my sentiments
Have need of more than word,
I dare not by a brazen move
Displease you, Lord.

5. TO MY NATIVE LAND
Tarrosa Subido
Beloved Land, let me explain to thee
Why thought of nearing death provokes a pain;
'Tis not that I again shall never see
These Orient Isles of kindly sun and rain;
Not that the visionary spirit must
Forego the wonders she had fondly schemed;
Not that the flesh must soon succumb to dust,
With Love's avowals only half redeemed.
O my beloved Land, whose air I breathe,
Whose bounty is my daily sustenance,
How sad to leave with nothing to bequeath,
Thy weal to serve, thy glory to enhance;
How shameful, finally, to dare to rest
My thankless dust upon thy noble breast!

6. JUNGLE RAIN
Maximo Ramos
Sudden claps of thunder and now the rain
Comes at a gallop to the shadowy jungle
Beating pitter-patter on the leaves overhead
And on the jungle floor of roots and fallen leaves
And on the rotting log where a python lies asleep.
Then a wild fowl gives a crow from nowhere
And the hoarse call of a hornbill
Breaks out of a top branch.
And the unknown voices of the wilderness
Have soon resumed their long low chorus
With the passing of the jungle rain.

7. SONG IN EXILE
Aurelio S. Alvero
It is harvest-time in Polo and the fields bear ripened grain,
Stalks on stalks of gold and yellow; fruit of sun and rain-
There's a moon of gleaming silver looking down on fields below,
Stars that sprinkle dark blue heavens with their ever-sparkling glow;
List to songs of voices joyful sing of love and joy and gain.
For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain.
When it is harvest-time in Polo, all the folks are in the fields,
Gathering all the fruit so mellow that the good earth gladly yields-
Little maidens fresh as blossoms, gay young swains with happy smiles,
Busy women ever thinking of the coming afterwhiles,
Sturdy men whose iron bodies bend unmindful of the pain,
For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain.
Scythes are moving in the silver glowing of the harvest-moon,
Keeping time to strains of music of a lively native tune;
Dainty fingers gather rice stalks, quickly tie them into sheaves,
Gleaners picking the remainders that the owner gladly leaves;
Bent to earth, they all are working-but there rings a happy strain
For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain.
Now 'tis harvest time in Polo; I can hear their happy songs,
But I must stay in city walls while my sad heart fondly longs
To be with them and join the harvest of the laden stalks of gold;
I can see them gaily working 'neath the moonrays brightly cold-
And oh! to be with them this evening, to do the harvest once again
In this harvest-time in Polo where the fields are ripe with grain.

8. MANG TEBAN AND THE
WEATHER
Josue Rem. Siat
One April noon when all was bright
And clear and dazzling to the sight,
Beside the road Mand Teban stood
Wiping his face in sullen mood.
He saw the heatwaves in the glare
As devils on the stage afire
And chafed in the sultry air
And wish for rainy days.
Then (when salt sold at treble price)
And muddy pools mocked cloudy skies,
Mang Teban, passing dripping trees,
With trousers rolled up to his knees,
Reproached the sky and saw the rain
As diablos dancing in the mire-
And shrank in the pelting rain-
And wished for sunny days!

9. SHADOWS
Gerson M. Mallillin
They are like strangers on the ground,
These shadows shy,
Walk upon them, strike them,
They never cry.
And yet within me something says
Thay are the hosts,
And we-but strangers in a place
Whose kings are ghosts.

10. TO THE MAN I MARRIED
Angela Manalang Gloria
I cannot love with a love
That out compares the boundless sea,
For that were false, as no such love
And no such ocean can ever be.
But I can love you with a love
As finite as the wave that dies
And dying holds from crest to crest
The blue of everlasting skies.
Last Piece in the Puzzle of My life
Vic P. Yambao
The sweetness of your Voice
Your soul searching eyes
Throw in the smiling lips
Makes my life complete
Missing you,when you're gone
But frozen stiff
when you're around
As my worthless life
is now complete
This dream might end...
if I'll stir...

11. 3.
Who Am I
Brian Joseph Sy
Who am I to blindly believe that
I can become parcel of this sacred ground?
To pretend that I am a strong wind
to guide your ever sturdy wings
Who am I to change this persistent blue rain?
To pretend that I can wash the sorrows away
from your ever beating heart
Who am I to care for this mortified soul?
To pretend that sanctity ascends in my
figureless touch…
I am none. Transcending only the littlest of
existence only meager eyes could see.
In the skies I plead alms
to catch your merciful grace;
To rescue me from this
lonesome cloud of misery
that I call self
4.
Tracing You
Kristina Aquino
Imagine the train tracks,
the train speeding away from you.
We were somewhere
and someone else a minute ago.
So I give you this,
the poet, the imagined martyr,
unmoving in her seat--she is one
of the firsts, she is daybreak today--

12. it does nothing but stare back.
She is so still the train stops with her.
"Cubao", she mouths.
Imagine the train tracks,
the train speeding away from
you, Cubao.
We were with you
some minute ago.
There are buildings
on the way to the end of the line,
but structure
eliminates the idea of a horizon.
It is sad when imagined things
start dying, too.
5.
Friendship
Vener Santos
Days will pass,
And things will grow old.
Flowers will bloom,
And soon will decay.
But when friendship starts,
All of the year it will remain fresh.
Friends will grow old,
But friendship will never.
As long as we both care,
It will remain young forever.
Death will separate it on earth,
But it will reborn in heaven.
6.
No rest
Kyo Zapanta

13. It's time for me to rest for a while
My condition is not that good
But hell, I can't seem to leave behind
Whatever it is that I must do
c pI know it’s been in overtime
I shouldn’t be here anymore
But that workaholiart of me
Seem to like the stress in store
But then again by head’s in pain
My body is just saying no
My eyes are swollen and tears are forming
I could cry in stress ever so
But I wouldn’t cry even if I feel it
For when I do I’ll be okay
Then I would again want to work
And I’ll be working for the rest of the day
7.
Distillation
Jan L. Velasco
Watching the rain spilling down,
drowning the earth below,
reminds me of
life's perpetual change.
The storm that we dread,
is a sea of kindness
that lifts--the mask
of (world's) avarice and sufferings
and fills the thirst, up to the brim of our souls.
8.
Now I Know
Jose Paulo Tolentino
Seven months felt like seven years
and now I face my greatest fears

14. Why before I could never wait
but now I know the heavy weight.
In a strange world, a mad city,
it is tough to be an adult
you take responsibility
to bear frustration and insult
There are days I would like to die
life is not pretty as it seem
Leave this and what do I redeem?
many I have learned is just a lie
They say I should create a goal
Love and life is what you make it
but somehow it just could not fit
All I have is a hollow soul
From here I don't know where to go
Being an adult, now I know.
9.
Hot
Karlo Pineda
A wrinkled forehead
alters your fair face.
Furious stares nest
in your eyes--sanctuaries
for nothing save fears and fires.
By this time
you are a swollen sun
ready to punish
my city with the scorching
of twin hells.
And in your mad radiation

15. I am a giant sunburn.
As I write this poem
my heart has already exploded
to myriad embers.
10.
My unfinished verse
Ulysses Palmones
You were sitting on the coach, you stole my glance
My heart leaps, nowhere to run
I tried to hide, pretended and lied
You were just a dream
Part of my foolish game….
How can I disguise those sleepless nights?
Where silhouette of thy beauty
Humming to my serenity
A glowing ember
A feeling next to never….
Chasing my illusion, my eventual desperation
Tasted the nectar of bitterness
and plan tomorrow, how to clean my mess
A test to my sanity
Or maybe…my stupidity…..
Will you came to unlock my chain?
Maybe a piece of gem
To replace the wedding ring
A cradle to my loneliness
and craziness….

16. Last Love
by: J.D. Mariposa
Best of friends
together took a leap
Now true friends
ahh! feelings run deep
Two hearts fused
hands ever entwined
Ti's all worth the wait
to care for one as kindly
Never never too late
to love but not blindly
So, to you my friend first,
my last love, i say
I'll be true every and
each of my waking day!
2.
Last Piece in the Puzzle of My life
Vic P. Yambao
The sweetness of your Voice
Your soul searching eyes
Throw in the smiling lips
Makes my life complete
Missing you,when you're gone
But frozen stiff
when you're around
As my worthless life
is now complete

17. This dream might end...
if I'll stir...
VISAYAN POEM
Joseph B. Man
How can I ever finish this mat I am weaving? Each
time I look at it, each strip turns into the former
reeds that bent and bowed as he parted them with
his hands by the river's bank where we first met.
He stepped out of his canoe and offered me a jar.
He said he and his people made them down there where
the river bends.
He culled some water hyacinths which he said would
beautifully go with the jar. I remember I only
cast my eyes down and stupidly looked at his feet.
He said he had to stay a while; much paddling had
made him tired. I said I had to go; the moon was

18. already high, I had to cook rice. I started to move
but when he pleadingly looked at me I lingered.
He said my lips were like the macopas in his garden;
my teeth some white gourd seeds. He said my hair was
like a vinta's sail; my slender arms unfurled banana
leaves.
Before he left he whispered he would wait for me
where the reeds grow thickest by the river's bank
tonight. He asked whether I would come or not. I
did not say no, I did not say yes.
The moon is now up. Is that the noice of paddling I
seem to hear by the river's bank? Why do my heart-
beat deafen me? Must I go or...Ah, what care
I if this mat would never be finished?
TO THE CHILD JESUS
Jose Rizal
Why comest thou Child-God
To earth in a humble home?
Does fortune already thee scorn
When hardly thou hast come?
Oh! How sad! Of heaven King
And come thee like common man!
Than Shepherd of thy flock
Won't thou rather besovereign?