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Showing posts from September, 2013

A Glimpse of My Past: Why I Write

September 24, 2013
A Glimpse of My Past: Why I Write
After sometime, I am back to my writing again!  That feeling of restlessness, that mixed feeling of sweetness, concentration and lightness, that near consummation of love, that it thing that comes fast and slow in a world’s glint and praise of a Creator.
As always, my writing comes out of necessity when one craves as to physical urgency.  When I was a child, I wrote on notebooks and coloring books.  My coloring was not perfect because it went out of lines.  In fact, my art teacher did not like me.  I was better in English, not so much in spelling, but almost perfect in vocabulary. The first poem that I was able to memorize was “Drop a Pebble in the Water,” by James W. Foley.  I made it easy in impromptu speaking and class discussions.  In written exams, I often got high scores and never failed.  I always searched for new words that rhymed.   I was a fan of Popeye and Moby Dick on TV.  There was one time that I fought with a boy in …

Drop A Pebble In The Water by James W Foley

Image
Drop a pebble in the water:
just a splash, and it is gone;
But there's half-a-hundred ripples
Circling on and on and on,
Spreading, spreading from the center,
flowing on out to the sea.
And there is no way of telling
where the end is going to be. Drop a pebble in the water:
in a minute you forget,
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And those little waves a-flowing
to a great big wave have grown;
You've disturbed a mighty river
just by dropping in a stone. Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute it is gone; 
But there's half-a-hundred ripples    
circling on and on and on.     
They keep spreading, spreading, spreading        
from the center as they go,         
And there is no way to stop them,             
once you've started them to flow.               Drop an unkind word, or careless:
in a minute you forget;
But there's little waves a-flowing,
and there's ripples circling yet,
And perhaps in some sad heart
a mighty wave of tears you'…

My Poem on PoemHunter.com. Thank you. Mwahs!

FUSE 21. What's Lit

FUSE 28 Poetry

Colors: Painted Texts

The Grace of His Light Saves Us

The Grace of His Light Saves Us

I hurried to reach you in your room of books. 
There you were praying, anointing your blessings for us.
Your prayers and all our prayers unite in God’s heart. 
You said, “The grace of His light saves us!”
I worried.  We worried.  Be peace in Syria! 
Be peace in all the world! 
Prayers, big and small miracles become a concrete wailing wall, a dome, the mountain of Moses, the sacrifice of Abraham, fatalities of Job.  
Prayer is Magdalene’s incense, Solomon’s songs,  the widow’s alms. 
It is the sacrifice of the sick, life of soldiers, the cross of Christ! 
Vocation!  
Chants must surround the earth like angels. 
I wish I were beside you in my lamentations. 
Passing lights, neons of blue, green, yellow and whites, in a spectrum of Theology I dreamt of you. 
Last night, on the ninth day, in sweet September with Santo Hannibal, we were there. 
For zeal, in ten days of union, you came in my night of pleas.
“The grace of His Light saves us!” 
I danced that you may see…