The Agricultural Worker's Ode to Labor

("I and the Village" by Marc Chagall, 1911.)

A farm worker, I make my rounds with every step upon the ancient soil, 

which bears my weight and carries me, as it had my forbears before me, 

steadfastly and silently.

The day is finally done, and my feet are sore, my shoulders weary. 

But tonight my spirit is light, and I’ll remember with blessedness, 

the labor of my kin and neighbors, milking cows and harvesting the field crops, 

patiently and purposely, that we may all live and grow as one community.

Tonight I will sing a hymn, thankful for the industriousness of my people, 

and with my guitar serenade the village, and the ricefield we plow but do not own,

as the countryside lays to rest under the evening sky,

guarded by its nipa huts, and solitary chapel.

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

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and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

December Morns

December Morn 1

The sun must rise earlier in December:
I've driven by this intersection every weekday morning,
at quarter to seven, and it's the first time
the sunlight makes me squint.

Before I cross, an old lady on the left sidewalk,
and a young boy on the right, move to cross.
I stop and let them exchange places,
and I wonder, "Where are they going?"

Then I wonder, "Do they also wonder where
I'm going?"

A horn beeps behind me, this morn
when the sun goes up earlier
in cold December.

December Morn 2

It must be getting cold in the mornings:
was gargling and spitting
while peeing.

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

I Hate Thuds!

I hate THUDS!

Ever since they grew up
to be rambunctious children, I
always pray that those
are nothing but the sounds
of their feet landing...

(Oh God! Only their feet -- PLEASE!)

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

A Sonnet for Sasha Luss

So blind are they who say Russians don't smile;
I pity them who have not seen your face.
The glow of your smile lights the world for miles,
Goddess dwelling among the human race.

Your eyes exude an inviting sadness,
Two pieces of ice that can pierce a soul.
Who wouldn't embrace you with pure sweetness?
Who wouldn't cover you like a warm shawl?

But you are standing tall at five foot ten,
While I barely reach five foot and seven.
You're a fragile beauty of cold Moscow;
I'm from the tropics on my carabao.

       Your name, like a sigh when spoken, Sasha...
       And our distance as cold as Siberia!

(Photo of boy on carabao from http://filipinolifeinpictures.blogspot.com/.)

(Note: After completing the MOOC "ARPO222x: The Art of Poetry, a course of study offered by BUx, an online learning initiative of Boston University through edX" under former US poet laureate Robert Pinsky, I've decided to make this December my Sonnet Month. Next January will be my Villanelle Month.)

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City