Showing posts from August, 2011

True Colors of the Earth

True Colors of the Earth
Solemnity of sky all day Night clouds of pink and lace of stars One love you give, and so I pray Gold promises and holy hours. Fresh garden flowers, breath of dew Bright silvery moon, white host for you.
Green cabbage fields, brown boots in mud Orange carrots, shaped pumpkins’ feast Bright tray of harvest, all from God Herb cream, purple cakes, earth's best.-- For you my love, an ivory shell, Red diamond ring, a towering bell.
Our hopes beside the lake so true Blinking ripples, gleam as your eyes -- What joy to hearts, love hails your crew Your heart, one love to God suffice. Rainbow teas, the lake’s a cup Sweet nectar rolled in waves you wrap.
True colors of the earth abound Notes heaven sing: white nights -- Mint trees and grapes in vine, on ground Earth paints a blast, God’s lips delight. Cotton clouds, rain candies, now Thy Kingdom come, pure love a vow.
8.31.2011 IWrotefiction RoseVoc2 on


Rose Flores  - Martinez
Ilang ulit kong tinangkang umalis.  Ilang ulit kong tinangkang lumimot.  Ilang ulit kong ipinanalanging maglaho.  Ilang ulit… Mahabang panahong pinatay ko ang aking pakiramdam at mabuhay sa paniniwalang pilit kong isiniksik sa aking malay.  Hindi na ako babalik… Kahapon, sinamba ko si Gabby.  Kahapon, buhay ko si Gabby. Kahapon. “Ano ba ang nangyayari sa iyo Ate Michelle,  mukhang maputla ka yata?”  tanong ni Aiko. “Wala.  Mayroon kasi akong mestruation ngayon.” “A gano’n ba?  ‘Kala ko may sakit ka.” Kung alam lamang ni Michelle ang tunay na dahilang kagagaling ko lamang sa doctor kasama si Gabby.  Katatapos ko lamang iniksyunan ng isang matabang karayom sa pigi.  May impeksyon daw ako sabi ng doktor.  Nakuha ko raw sa swimming pool.  Paano nangyari, ‘yon? E… Noong isang lingo ay kaarawan ni Gabby.  Ibinigay ko ang lahat sa akin kay Gabby para sa kanyang kaarawan.  Ang aking Oo, and aking pag-ibig, and aking pagtitiwala, and aking katawam, hawak sa kamay, halik… Sa …

MARIGOLDS by Eugenia W. Collier


Author: Eugenia W. Collier
When I think of the home town of my youth, all that I seem to remember is dust – the brown, crumbly dust of late summer – arid, sterile dust that gets into the eyes makes them water, gets into the throat and between the toes of bare brown feet. I don’t know why I should remember only the dust.Surely there must have been lush green lawns and paved streets under leafy shade trees somewhere in town; but memory is an abstract painting – it does not present things as they are, but rather as they feel.And so, when I think of that time and that place, I remember only the dry September of the dirt roads and grassless yards of the shanty town where I lived.And one other thing I remember, another incongruency of memory – a brilliant splash of sunny yellow against the dust – Miss Lottie’s marigolds. Whenever the memory of those marigolds flashes across my mind, a strange nostalgia come with it and remains long after the picture has faded, I feel again the chao…

GOD, Let Your Holy Spirit Be in Us


In Many Moons

In Many Moons

Soon, I will die for my love

and he will die for me

When our cups will be one