Poetry

With photographs we reproduce, with paintings we translate, and with words we create.

With the least cost, space and equipment, a great poet can paint images and capture things unseen.

Like most people, I started writing because it was a requirement in a Grade 6 class but living on top of a mountain in a mining community naturally cultivated melancholy even in a very outgoing high school student like me.  I stopped writing as I entered college and started again sometime before graduating and stopped again and wrote again and stopped again and...

# 66

Laughter echos and ricochets;
Plight is bolted, choked and chained;
Mothers hear the tears of babes,
While all the rest
Conspire to
Let loose those tears.
-- August 24, 1999




# 83

There remains a mystery,
A new one raised amidst,
The ancient megaliths,
Craggy shoulders and grassy elbows
Of Santo Tomas;
For there, almost like Olympus
Once lay buried in wooden and rocky crypts
The domain's predecessors --
Spiritually violated
By spirited thrill-seekers
In caps, cellphones and sneakers.
-- 2002

# 82.  Kennon Road

Kennon Road, unvanquished
but evangelized
(repels buses, impounded BAL),
still serves
the traveller heavily
via light transport;
Light:  mercedes, bmw, pajero.
Light;
Hissing downward -- an
uncompromising asphalt carpet --
Determined to roll toward the center of
Archipelagic water, land, and air lanes:
The center, god, server, hub
of
commerce, check
wealth, check
fashion, check
intellect, check --
Root. Bearing fruit. Fertilized by
www.organicloot.com
-- 2002

Click to read all  poems in this blog...

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