ABC STARS Inspires

Awake, I see the mistress of my throne  Her warmth, her face of beauty and her scent Of rose-milk. But I find, I am alone. Ah raging torment born of love unspent! "Reveille!" You are a boon! I'll make An obsession of my work; I must not rest Or else these thoughts of you return and break Me with their searing yearnings unexpressed. At last "Retreat" is sounded, all is done. And now the crickets chirp a promise of dreams. But the dream is a sad and empty one--- I walked alone, alone on the moon-beams!          The tears I wept are in the morning dew          The winds now wail my want---how I miss you!                                                                                           ...

Image courtesy of posterize at freedigitalphotos.net Image courtesy of 2nix at freedigitalphotos.net It was around this time of the month a few years ago that I traveled by bus to Singapore from Kuala Lumpur. An air of suspense welcomed me at the immigration office of the Lion City. I was held at the arrival area for about forty five minutes.

Photo by cc We met; Our first and last. I greeted you with lead That plowed your breast you gasped for life In vain. We played A morbid game. Your creed was not my own. The killing was dispassionate. Routine. Your fate Could have been mine. We are no more than pawns; Convenient, mute, unwitting tools Of greed! *1960; Naga Times, April 11, 1982

Photo by cc T oday, ah World, I see a lovely light O utcast the shadow of your cloudiest moods! N o ugliness remains. Your hills, your woods Y our seas and skies, ah everything's just right! L oveliness is all around! This sight O f bursting rainbow-ribboned rapture intrudes V oluptuously and rends the gloomy hoods E mbittering my heart and uproots their blight. S corching flames, no longer dutiful, E mblazon all my soul! Ah, one could die D elightedly drunk, drinking glee on-the-rocks! I 'm just that drunk, For all is beautiful! T he fourteen letters hidden here spell why my H eartbeats pound and prance like wild amoks! The Rainbow, Feb, 1966

Photo by cc Ah breath of angel's scent          Ah bundled pinkish cloud Of pure abandonment.          Unblinking suns allowed A glimpse of ancient Peace!          Spoken, yet unspoken, In gurgling "ahs","oggees".          Ah love's fond living token Smiling out my sadness Banishing all badness Cooing out my madness Beaming brimming gladness!          Cradled in my arms          Is one of heaven's charms! The Rainbow, Oct.-Dec., 1969

"...t he magnificence of courtship that eventually leads to the miracles of life." If you go to the Plaza Quince Martires before the morning breaks you will be in for a pleasant surprise. There are a few lush trees as tall as the re-conceptualized building right across the street. Well ahead of the early dawn mass at the San Francisco Church you will be enthralled by the performance of winged creatures of God’s masterpiece: Nature at its best. It is a joyous melody, a testament to the glory of God’s creation. About a hundred or more birds chirp and sing in unison like music to the ears. They converge in the inner sanctum of the foliage and sometimes fly to the nearby trees. I feel one with nature-- a pilgrim in this magnificence we call life. I linger for a few moments just to listen to their songs of praise and to soak in their presence. With their ability to fly, they are the next best things to angels. They are ethereal beings as they soar in the heavens. ...

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")

“Anxiously you ask, 'Is there a way to safety? Can someone guide me? Is there an escape from threatened destruction?' The answer is a resounding yes! I counsel you: Look to the lighthouse of the Lord. There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no gale so strong, no mariner so lost but what its beacon light can rescue. It beckons through the storms of life. It calls, 'This way to safety; this way to home.”  ―  Thomas S. Monson Photo by cc Lord, I tremble with fear and my hands shake with fright My thoughts are abysmal pains that I wish I have been spared With all my heart I plead, Why Lord? Why me? Lord, my vision drowns me that I wish I'm blind My hearing hurts my ears that I wish I'm deaf With all my mind, again I ask, Why my Lord? Lord, I am broken, my body, my bones I cry out to the heavens for I am hopeless and restless With all my soul, heal me, Oh Great One Lord, my voice is unworthy that I wish I’m mute Sweeten my taste tha...

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

Around my world, I sought my se ñorita Till I met the lovely Bernardita And found my friend, my darling and my guide. My quest was ended. She became my bride. Our love was ever constant and ever true And any place, to us, was a rendezvous. God gave us more, than the dozen that we prayed for (I wonder why fourteen, could we have made more?) Why is it, love sonnets have fourteen lines? Why is February fourteenth for Valentines? Why was I fourteenth when I passed the Bar? And why was I so lucky in love and war? Though the rainbow in my heart is gone And I wait for sundown, soon my day is done. Still, forever new as the morning dew Our love lives on --- in each one of you! 14 Jul 95 photo credit: jarr1520 A Good Morning via photopin (license) License: (license)

Bernardita, my beloved, my darling, my bride! Mother of my Fourteen! My woman fulfilled! Blessed are we, pilgrims by your side. Blest be your son-priest and as many as Christ has willed. Marylike, you were all love and understanding Serene and smiling thru all stress and strain! And when our sorrows were utterly demanding, You showed us how to embrace God's gift of pain! Your radiant beauty was mine to have and to hold! I shall sing of my Treasure all the days of my life Far dearer than fame and fortune and mountains of gold, God gave me a Saint! To be my wife! And sinner that I am, God kept me true! I knew no other woman! No one but you! By j antonio m carpio 6 September 1994

A friend who is far away is sometimes much nearer than one who is at hand. Is not the mountain far more awe-inspiring and more clearly visible to one passing through the valley than to those who inhabit the mountain? – Kahlil Gibran I was too young to recall the very first time I have seen every Bicolano’s pride, Mount Mayon. I was born and raised in Naga City but my mind is a blur to that experience but I saw in old pictures from vintage albums that  I was six when I saw Mayon. This I surmised basing from the photos taken when our family went to see Blessed Pope John Paul II in his historic and memorable visit to the city of Legazpi on February 21, 1981.  But I vividly remember though that in grade school we were tasked to draw that volcano as an art project. That was a no brainer because all I had to do was draw a perfect triangular shape of a land form. And like a cherry on top of an ice cream sundae I added a white smoke with a hint of gray on top of the peak....

Photo by cc Ah would that I could write of ugly things! To see but ghoulish abnormalities Through warped and maniacal imaginings. But how? I see at dusk a lover's kiss In wintry dark, ah, love in evening mink. I see through cloud-distorted light a rain- Bow hiding; an eclipse, a sunny wink To flirting moon, gowned in tulled champagne. I see in sweat of blood, the rubies, wel- Comed ransom, mankind's kinship with a Face Who made all pain His sobering spell And death, graduation unto Life's embrace! Ah call me hopeless, unrealistic fool I see but Beauty in a myriad pool! 24feb64

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” - Mark Twain A SUITCASE was built to last in the early days. I was an eager young traveler with my family waiting for the bus at the terminal. I sat on the suitcase. That is the oldest recollection of one of my trips to distant Manila. However, I saw in old photo albums that even as a toddler, I was riding the Bicol Express. The coach wagon was splendid. Wow! We were traveling in style. Sadly, there were years when the Bicol Express was kaput so we had to take the bus. During those times every trip took a whole night from sleepy Naga to bustling Manila. Snacks were served making the trip pleasant. I held the cold orange juice packed in a pyramid shaped carton in my small hands with sheer joy. And yes, there was a...