ABC STARS Inspires

When my mother asked me if I wanted to go to the San Jose Seminary, I hesitated, I wanted to, but, I was too shy. Little did I know that she will be gone in a couple of years. Now, I know that she only wanted  my best interest and the vocation of the priesthood would have made me secured for life. In the past ten years, I thought and entertained the idea of becoming a priest but I knew that my intellectual abilities would not be able to digest Theology anymore. I would had been the third priest among the eleven Carpio brothers. That is my biggest regret in my life. photo credit: paval hadzinski Peregrination of relics of St. Jan Boska | 7 via photopin (license) License: (license)  

I wish I were deaf sometimes so that I would not have wounds by hurtful words. But, then again, I would not hear the melodious tides of the ocean and the sea. I wish I were mute oftentimes so that I would not hurt people by unkind words. But, then again, I would not be able to speak for other people who are timid. I wish I were blind a few times so that I would not see atrocities of the world. But, then again, I would not be a witness to the grandeur of God's creation. I wish almost always that I had not become a writer because it's difficult. But, then again, I would not have been able to have written these words... photo credit: sean dreilinger cameron and his officemate - _MG_1537 via photopin (license) License: (license)

Back in the day, my younger brother's core of friends were the 90210 bunch of their batch. I did not meddle with his life at all. I mean as long as he still has ten fingers and ten toes then I am good with that. I joined a rock band. He joined a rock band. I did not join the officer corps training. He did not join the officer corps training. I will not say that he copied me but after years passed. I joined the banking industry. He joined the banking industry. I joined the telecommunications industry. He joined the telecommunications industry. Purely, coincidental I guess.. He joined Accenture then. I joined Accenture then. Other than those, we have nothing in common. He is outgoing and I am reclusive. Being reclusive that I am, people think that I am the youngest. And, people are surprised that I actually exist. I jokingly told my other brother that they hid me all those times. Amusingly, I became the other brother. And ye...

I'm afraid to love... Because I'm broken He turned around looked at her intently, Then walked away never turning back. With finality, tears flowed down her cheeks. She yelled, "Come back, you fool! I love you..." But he disappeared into the night. Like there was no tomorrow. Only two broken hearts. Promises unkept. And love unfulfilled. The End photo credit: Lonesome walker via photopin (license)   License: (license)

The subdued humming of the air conditioning became inaudible It is raining heavily outside as raindrops hit the roof and the pavement I like to let the words flow as I listen to the relaxing melody of the downpour I noticed that the more I write in this kind of situation the more it is incredible People wonder why poets like the water in this form- it is mere enchantment The rhyme and rhythm makes the readers want to reflect on the poem's core 8/14/2015  photo credit: clouds bring the f-stop blues via photopin (license) License: (license)

Madonna of Bikol! Queen of God's People! O Lady, of  Peñafrancia shrine, We come to you, to sing anew Of your constant care! Of your love divine! In joy and in sorrow, today and tomorrow, From East to West, where ever we roam From far or near, Ina most dear, What matters only is we are home! In this trysting place of God's embrace A love we say not in solitude, In whispered sighs, from only the wise, But is sung and shouted by a multitude! One are the Bikols! One with all peoples! With God and His angels and saints above! Banishing sadness, bursting with gladness Proclaiming the wonder of our Mother's love! *Oragon, Sept., 1992; Handiong, Sept., 9, 92  photo credit: The Basilica of Our Lady of Peñafrancia via photopin (license) License: (license)

Mother, why must they be so unruly? Why the pagan revelry? Truly, This traslacion from your Basilica Is no procession! 'Tis a Mardi Gras! With this irreverence, how can one pray? For years, they have been doing it this way--- A swaying, dancing, drunken parody Of what a real procession ought to be! "Have you forgotten, son, that pagans, too, Are Christ's own brethren? Beloved, just like you? Wasn't my Peñafrancia chapel built Nor guile, who dwelt beyond the sound of bells Yet yearned for all God's Holy Word foretells! And why be grim and gloomy all the while? Is there no room for laughter or a smile?" "They, too, do pray. Oftentimes unseen By mortal eyes. And how they love their Queen! So overwhelmed by gratitude are they, They shout their hearts out! It's their Mother's day! Why can't they have the Mardi Gras they want? Should processions be so sacrosanct? Why not---for pagan, devotee, or p...

There is a mystic tale that's always told By all the Bicolanos young or old 'Tis felt and seen by pilgrim, foe or friend Why is it so, one cannot comprehend. They swear that when the Lady journeys home On her pagoda lined with gilt and chrome No other woman, must be beside her throne The barge will sink, if she is not alone! Her motley court of cheering, singing men Has always left me with a wistful yen But others with their condescending look Who think that life's an artificial book, Keep saying, "it's a swaying parody Of what a real procession ought to be A Christian trimming on a pagan mood--- The adoration of a piece of wood!" Let me tell you just a thing or two About this "drunken" candle-lighted queue. We know we are not much, mere publicans, Bare-footed ones of humble circumstance. Impulsive ones whose common bond is love For our Madonna of Bikol Up above. Ah, countless times we sighed, she always heard! And God could not deny His mothe...

-I- Did My Captain Pass This Way? I seek no other captain; only he Who holds the highest rank all captains hail--- Five crimsoned battle stars. He is the tale Of peerless leadership and gallantry. He led our advance and ordered "Follow me!" "I am the way!" throughout this treacherous trail Of moment to moment in-fighting. Our foes bewail How he, though singlehanded, set us free. For we were then entrapped on Calvary Hill But he arose! and broke their age-old siege. He earned the highest combat badge that day--- The Cross on a Bleeding Heart. He wears it still! I should not, would not, but I lost my Liege. Did my Captain of captains pass this way? -II- The Broken Chords I've seen all singers stumble down ere half The melody. Their images lie strung In shame; the broken chords, their epitaph. Shall we then leave the song of life unsung Or compromise its accent, time and pitch? Renounce the highest perfection...

-I- Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary Over all the tempting offers that prospective buyers bore While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping As of someone gently rapping, softly rapping at my door. "Perhaps," I thought, "it's buyer Oihara, knocking at my door--- Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember, it was after bleak December While digging in the Lo-o Valley for the hidden cache of yore At last I found the long-lost Buddha of "The Tiger of Malaya" A twenty-eight-inch Buddha I now keep behind my aparador Because this thousand-kilo statuette that's behind my aparador Is solid gold and nothing more. So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I kept repeating, "It can't be Chayong or Canding; its Oihara at my door The Japanese buyer who's entreating entrance for an urgent meeting. It is his familiar greeting, he who knows all ...

                                                               -I-    LORD, I have a question, if I may?    I don't say Mark is wrong, I wouldn't dare.    But John is silent, why? And John was there,    He was with Peter on that Easter day.    You see, the women reached the tomb that dawn    And found You gone! They found the stone rolled back    And useless were the spices in their pack!    And this by Matthew, Mark and Luke and John.    There's something missing in the lines I read---    Between the time the angel rolled that stone    And You appeared to Mary, nothing's known.    These precious moments have been left unsaid.              And since not all...

Photo by cc I think I shall not plant a tree I shall not follow this decree. I'm neither cowardly nor brave I just don't wanna be a slave Of any mortal same as me! God made us free; and free I'll be! Why should they rob me of the joy I've known since I was still a boy? The thrill of growing what I chose- A pili, mango or a rose! That's why I will not plant a tree. I say--- "to hell with this decree!" Why let the loggers roam at will Denuding every virgin hill Then let the burden on us fall? Where is the justice of it all? Poems are made by fools like me But greater fools made this decree! * A song, Naga Times, 1977,    Republished UP Collegian;    other College papers; even in Hongkong    (Acknowledgment to Joyce Kilmer's "Trees")

Image courtesy of Exsodus at freedigitalphotos.net There must be some meaning, some hidden reason For Easter lilies blooming out of season Rainbow colors bursting in the sun From flowers planted, tended by hands now gone. For wistful wishes granted, though kept unspoken By a heart that still is bleeding, still is broken. There must be something in the stories told By those whose friendship we cherish and enfold. About our beloved advocate who's ever Closer than before, who'll leave us never. How, when Heaven's cables were "occupied" They tapped a tiny circuit by our side And sure enough, they got their message heard Through "Bernardita's hot line" with the Lord! The friend they know, the loving sister of all! She's just a sigh away! We need but call! Christmas 1994