Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Air, Hope, Love and Magdala

Sad breath of April, and hot noon, when at 3 PM, a cross stands in Golgotha

Whipped and lashed scars bleed, there is flesh and skin

Now here today, what has changed?

When you still mo ck and strut your wicked wicked ways

I saw they were too proud to do the parade, they thought was mardi gras – and so before the holy Wednesday – the party and blast of dancing in the streets

Across time, waved leaves on air – the breath of noon still hot and waiting

So incomplete and insincere – like the dust on my forehead

Not solemn and free – unlike the kites

The highways are empty and gleaming hot, april heat blows air

Until Sunday – at dawn in babys crying I awake leaping in joy

Going to the tomb –

The altar is a tomb where all the deads rise and pray here

Moments of solitude all creatures work until eternity

He is risen. And so Like Magdala – I anointed perfume

Feet, thighs,loins, body, his face and hair

They’re cold but the daze in his eyes gets warm in my heart

The air has changed – it is foggy yellow and cool white ice

The baby smiles, the son cradles the baby, and I – a mother of the air, pours all the perfume in the wood, on him – so all will awake from slumber

Salvation is here, from the cross, and the rising Christ!

Dawn. For the Risen Christ.  Remembering St. Magdalene.2012.RoseVoc2

/first published on Poemhunter.com

Monday, April 16, 2012

The Mystery of Moths

What is it with moths, insects and flies?

Why in their minute bodies or heads, they threaten humans?

Why in their strangeness, they symbolize wrath, fun, seasons, danger or calm?

I'm fond of fireflies. When I was younger I thought they were sent by fairies from deep dark forests. I asked my grandfather (father of my Dad) when we crossed thick forests in the night, "Are there really fairies in the forest?"

And he answered, "Yes."

I was into it. I adored his stories, even those horses with human heads. Up the sky, we looked, and it was so beautiful! Truly, the sky in blue was vast, the stars brightly smiled to us, and to all those who looked above.

I was not afraid of the forest then. I was thinking, if we didn't find the way out, we would reverse our shirts to find the way out. My grandfather laughed. He was so brave, a real man! Like an Indian chief he can roar with command, and those who would see him would bow with respect.

There were clusters of fireflies in the forest. Their lights blinked like party lights, but they were brighter, yellow and happy. They were more than fireworks dancing. Their lights never faded and never ended in the dark. When I tried to get one firefly, my grandfather told me "You shouldn't do that because the fairies might punish us." So I didn't catch them. When I came in the house and there were still some fireflies, I got one and put it in a bottle. But soon, the firefly died.

As I traced back, the issue was not the punishment from the fairies, but the right thing to do.

I can also remember another famous story on the moths. It was told by (mother of Filipino national hero Dr. Jose Rizal)) Teodora Alonso. The story shares the idea that when the moths come near the flame they will burn. So stay away from the flame.

Another story is William Golding's (awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature) Lord of the Flies. See what boys are like in the challenge of various situations. The title shows a terrifying boar's (beast) head with flies buzzing around. What are the effects of environment to the children?

How about Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis? In the story, the insect cannot be depicted clearly because the door is always locked. When the door opens, there is darkness. What can you say about the cinema of the blind?

The Moths by Helena Maria Viramontes comes stark with a woman's anguish. The story gives emphasis when Abuelita (grandmother) died. It says, "Then the moths came. Small and gray ones that came from her soul and out through her mouth fluttering to light..."

also on ezinearticles.com
rosalinda flores martinez.rosevoc2
posted 4.17.2012

Friday, April 13, 2012

The Scent of Salvation

Perfumed his feet, mint cherry bits

Billowed musk, deep ocean fleet

White linen pillows of his hair

Earth’s smoke and fire sun, oh, so rare

Nailed hands to life, air goes to flee

Sweet grace and mercy to earth be

Needs and wants, they’re satisfied

Complete in 14 stations by

The garden throbs with joy, anew

Rose petal, leaves and honey dew

Bouquet of rainbow, jelly melts

In Eucharist, gold blossoms felt.

Virgin falls, stream of wine, so clear,

White wafer bread, a dearly gear

Light bubbly fogs of wood, a whiff

Spiking fountain, a sacred cliff

Angel’s touch turns flowers, hope.

“John Paul, we pray,” pleads dearest Pope.

You and me, together free,

All nations free! God’s Kingdom be!

Together, we, breathe scent; and smell

In God’s blue cross, the flames will tell

Holy workers and priests be sent

Saint Hannibal, “Rogate” tent!

Flash heaven rays, the halo roofs

Clouds on floors, assembled loops

Rows of Saints are gathered now -

Salvation scent, true love, a vow

Cool fragrant dawn and mist of night

From heaven’s pond, heal bones and fright

For you and me, salvation comes

St. Magdalene, anoint us might!

My Lord, my God, be glory, be!

Salvation breeze, Holy Trinity!

Breathe - Christ is risen!

Breathe - Christ is risen!

“Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of the faithful,

And enkindle in them, the fire of Your divine love.

Send forth Your Spirit, and they shall be created,

And You shall renew the face of the earth.”

Breathe – Christ is risen!



RoseVoc2.april 13,2012

Also on Poemhunter.com

Wednesday, April 11, 2012



I breathe you

Day and night I long to touch your hand

and see the shade of your hands. How

those hands would turn red while I feel

every finger and thumb locked into mine;

If only your hands…

The sky has took you in – faceless as I am

I wonder how you’d shave the beard in your jaw,

how you’d trim the mustache close to your lips,

how you’d smell the fragrance of my neck,

how your eyes like agates would look at me now.

I crave your lips, your tongue, the air of your mouth.

I wish they would touch, riotous, if sea and sky

They merge in space with swift glory,

after the tombs fall.

My grief is solemn as white water

because you are everything to me

Seething flesh, handsome imagination

Different rocks and hues

How would you take me then -

if my times were chips that crashed?

if my bliss were only shadows and clouds?

if I were faceless?

I have longed for you as I have promised

waiting in seconds, hours, and years…

Every day, I’ve pleaded

and that is all I can be -

faceless like the sky.

I breathe you

I breathe you in the moon and stars

I breathe you in the shrouded skies

I breathe you -

Swift and loud like thunder, I’d come,

faceless, I’d come,

Love in holy hours of dazzling Flame.

Rosevoc2. Also on PoemHunter.com


Rockets: Up And Away

The rockets will zoom tomorrow.

Up the universe, across the air we

breathe. It will fly – like a bullet

in space, tomorrow. Launch now

science or nuclear warhead? Glints

unquestionable gamma radiation.

Six-party talks. No sail, no fishing-zone,

no fly-zone “sa Pilipinas.” “Panginoon,

have mercy on us, have mercy.”

North Korea will launch a satellite.

UFO exploration, huge ET power?

Busy earth is alive, kicking 14 billion years!

Says Bishop Bastes “Pray! In

The Skylab, nothing happened.”

Says Mrs. Kim: “Pray, the best we

could do is pray!”

Empty airports tomorrow…

Space frozen dull. Clouds fiery red.

How to pray, be all, teaching each other.

A spectrum of stars will catch

Hunt inside a cloud net of blaze

Debris, shut off in Holy breath.

rosalinda flores martinez

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Good Friday

It rained down on me - everything including the ruins of my past. Because today is good Friday for me and a marked day to be acquainted with cancer cells of different people (in the clinic, bringing a cancer patient) know them so well, had them treated right to stop their mutations.

Here's the burst of simple things that annoy - steal time, freeze brains, and nail feet to destinations you wouldn't wish for. Teardrops couldn't even fall.

It's just like Good Friday. Good Friday comes triumphant in Easter. Yet the day itself offers a time of keeping close with conscience. It makes us a little kinder and generous. Yes, the wrath of the cross is salvation to mankind. I wanted to carry my shadows so it wouldn't follow me. Coming across these routine, I have the same monologues with that of a bored housewife, and a caretaker.

I have my own strong world like chains of mountains that GOD planted. I made sure its temples wouldn't fall, its walls wouldn't crack. I live just under the sky with no roof and tread along the road with no one, like Neruda in his poems. My house - is just a little better than the house on Mango Street. People say, it's Philippines small Vatican.

Complaints on good Friday. I wouldn't like to complain. I understand that each of us has his own woes and concerns. Living is not easy. If we don't have enough courage, it's like losing a war. That is why I believe that GOD is brilliant and loves us all to let us experience what earth would mean, if for short moments we would live together on this planet.

On good Fridays, we remember why Jesus died for us on the cross. After the trials in life, God has redeemed humanity. The miracle of the cross is the miracle of our lives.

Let us ponder on Jesus' Stations of the Cross (14 Stations)

Pope Benedict XVI approved this set of stations for meditation and public celebration in 2007:

1. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane

2. Jesus is betrayed by Judas and arrested

3. Jesus is condemned by the Sanhedrin

4. Jesus is denied by Peter

5. Jesus is judged by Pilate

6. Jesus is scourged and crowned with thorns

7. Jesus takes up His cross

8. Jesus is helped by Simon to carry His cross

9. Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem

10. Jesus is crucified

11. Jesus promises His kingdom to the repentant thief

12. Jesus entrusts Mary and John to each other

13. Jesus dies on the cross

14. Jesus is laid in the tomb

Hence, we are saved. Thanks be to God!

Rosalinda Flores - Martinez

Iwrotefiction,reposted by rosevoc2.2012

also on Ezine Articles.com

Hansel and Gretel9