Death
By: Herminio M. Beltran
We are
Leaves on Life’s tree—
And death is the wind that shakes
The branches gently till its leaves
All fall.
Shadows
Gerson M. Mallillin
1
They are like strangers on the ground,
These shadows shy;
Walk upon them, strike them,
They never cry.
2
And yet within me something says
They are the hosts,
And we but strangers in a place
Whose kings are ghosts.
A Distinction
By: Gerson M. Mallillin
1
When only the brain has poetry
nothing else has;
the heart is numb with emptiness,
the eyes might as well be shrouded,
the lips yawn with the ghost of words
buried before they can become speech,
the hands are active crosses.
2
But when the heart has poetry everything else has;
the brain is renewed
and stirred to surpass itself,
the blood becomes a flood
of meanings and images
eyes, lips, and hands
can never
perfectly tell.
The Insane
By: Ernesto O. Manalo
When in a quandary of my mind
I sense so many blocks along the road,
Others, I say, are much more fortunate,
Certainly more blessed. But uncowed,
I do not give in to such hate.
Because the mind is all undone…
In countries unpossessed by mind,
The heart is moving tenderly.
More blessed yet are those who see
Without their minds but with their hearts alone.
Loss
By: Antonio Samson
There is some sadness
In hearing conversation stop
Or finding out a loss of friends.
The feeling hollows out
Your soul
And leaves you by yourself
Staring at details
Like frogs and snails
And what to do
The sadness grows and grows
Like a tree without leaves.
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