Desiderata

I love poetry. It runs in my veins, beats with my heart and lives forever in and with my thoughts. It jogs, screams and rejoices with me through crowds seeking faces, observing details, re-living each person or moment’s joy, pain, defeat or success and always, almost always ending up with hope and faith that is larger than my existence.

My passion didn’t come naturally the way it did with Shakespeare, Dickinson, Hemingway or Kipling, though. Instead it was sparked by a dream of a very important person, my dad.  This realization occured just a few minutes ago after I read his latest email, which is a copy of the famous poem Desiderata, the Latin for “things to be desired”.

It’s the first time Dad sent a copy of the poem to my siblings and me, but the poem itself wasn’t new to me at all.  I remember seeing a poster of it in our old house when I was only a child.  It’s printed with  orange flowers as background, silently trying to do its job but is never appreciated.  For almost a decade it graced a part of our living room’s wall, precious yet unnoticed, may be because it has always been there and it will always be; but I was wrong.

A few storms came and our house, being the first stone house in the community became a refuge for our neighbors whose rooftops flew away with the rushing wind.  Sometime later I found “Desiderata” on a pile of soaked things.  It doesn’t grace our wall anymore.  That’s the only time I really stopped to read it.  That’s when Dad explained what a poetry is to me and showed me the remaining copy of his poems written during his student days at the then Central Luzon Polytechnic College, now Nueva Ecija University of Science and Technology. His poems were simple  but powerful, just like his influence to me as his first child.

I knew my siblings were surprised to receive a copy of the poem from our dad because they never really knew that part of him.  Nobody dared to find out, except me.  Perhaps because dad never really knew how he’d show it to my brothers and sisters, too.  I hope the sending of “Desiderata” would open the gate for each of us.

Here’s Desiderata, the poem that commands us to live our lives beautifully and cheerfully by being in good terms with all persons, speaking the truth, respecting the wisdom of the olds, being content, believing in yourself and living a life centered around someone bigger than the rest of us, God.

Thanks, Dad, for the beautiful reminder!  I love you!

Happy reading everyone!

For a printable version of the poem, please visit Desiderata.

Clouds

The sight of you tells

my heart of cotton candies

claws, clowns, and cats.

Christmas in Bethlehem

Tomorrow it’s already December and for many Christians all over the world, the approaching of the month strengthens nothing but the spirit of Christmas.  However, with 183 people killed ruthlessly and hundreds injured in India; thousands stranded in Thailand; and still thousands if not millions in fear of what the worldwide recession has for them, it is difficult to really celebrate what’s supposed to be a Yuletide season.

There’s so much violence around.  Fear and indifference abound.  Many hunger for power.  No one wants to stoop down and follow what is needed for us to have a better world: love others as you love yourself.

These remind me of Bethlehem and how it celebrates Christmas centuries after Christ lived there.  Below is a poem I wrote sometime ago.  It pictures Bethlehem as if it were Mumbai, except that for the people of Bethlehem terrorism is a daily experience.

God bless us all.

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For stories and pictures about Bethlehem, please log on to Bob May’s website

For someone dear to me

Poems by AMLAMA; Photo by Alex M.

A poem for those who have found their soulmate, but could never have him or her.  I’m with you in hope and prayer that you’ll have another chance on a pure love somehow, someday, somewhere…

Haiku

Haiku
III.

Strings pulled her heart
pain echoed in a distance
Ah! melancholy.