COFFEE POEM
By: Gerry N. Peralta
Afternoons when the sky
Turns a shade
Coffee
And the sun creams
The foamy clouds
I sit and sip
Life's bitter-sweet
Brew
Thankful that,
If only for coffee,
Life's already
Well lived.
BALAGBAG- Bicol word for something lying perpendicular to and on the street. An irritating nuisance to passers-by. Thus, BALAG-BLOG. Welcome to the inconvenience....
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
BONSAI YEARS
When I noticed the roots growing out
Of the bonsai tray today,
After clipping and snipping the branches and twigs
For a hundred weeks,
I heard the sound of scissors in me, crying
Clipping the wings of warm tending
Unto, perhaps, a final fold
The playground of small, fallen aratilles
Turning into a dell of desolate leaves
Still infantile yet infirm in their aged minuteness
I leave the tray on the landing
The next half of stairs, growing shorter and smaller,
As I rush to answer the door
My son - home from a final tour
Of duty?
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