Post Winter Solstice

(image by Tom Wortham)

snow falling incessantly

swirling, twirling, pirouetting

finally paying homage to the ground

world hushed like a napping child

still she takes a walk along

freshly fallen winter white carpet

bitter cold snaking its way

inside layered garments

face basking in the golden glow

of the sun taking a quick peek

until the gray veil of gloaming  falls

heavens blushing before

surrendering to the night

           

Love Sonnets

My niece Jackie is only 14 and never been in love or heartbroken (or so her mother claims). Budding poets apparently pop up like an early crocus in late winter. Here then is her first brush with young love and romance - real or imagined. Enjoy. I did.

by Jacqueline Almase Suarez

sonnet 1

do you remember the day you asked me
and on that same day i also said yes

seven years have passed and all i can see

is there's no more us and it's all a mess

february fourteen two thousand and four
and that was the day you knocked on my door
february fourteen two thousand and four

and that was the day i wish there were more

i remember my first kiss was back there
for a short moment our lips quickly touch

and on that same moment for you, i care

i was hoping you would care just as much

i'm wishing it could be, just me and you
wishing a thousand times, you wished it too.


sonnet 2

it tore me, when i saw you fall in love
she was everything, but nothing like me
she was pretty, and graceful like the dove
i'm in the sidelines, but you can't see

she's "miss perfect" with her very long hair
i remember you kissed her on a dare
you touched her cheek, so flawless and so fair
on that moment i knew you really cared

i know i'm not perfect like the girl is

but i want you to know i do know this

those lips of yours that once gave me a kiss

those are the lips i will terribly miss

it tore me apart when you fell in love

with a girl who fell from heaven above

Pit Senyor!

Sugod sa sinugdan

Karon ug sa kahangturan

Pangayo, pangamuyo, ug pasalamat

Namo Kanimo

Bala-an nga Bata

Atras, abante

Duyog sa huni

Ayaw lang pangulahi

Sa among kinabuhi anhi

(art by Tito Cuevas)        

Heaven Can Wait

(image by Rennan Quijano)

     The day before my birthday, the boys and I had a near-fatal mishap with an 18-wheeler truck on the way to dropping them off at the school.  A fortunate matter that I didn't realize what could have happened until after the event because I couldn't have avoided it if I tried. Truly only by the grace of God was I able to celebrate my birthday, and the boys as well who didn't even know what had just not happened. So yes, it was indeed a great birth day for me in the only way that mattered. My gratitude to everyone who sent me well-wishes, blessings and affirmations. God-with-us. HE was with me then, now and always. As HE is with you.

     We all have had similar events in our lives when we wonder if Someone had intervened to prevent misfortune from happening or having put us in the path of something positive through no effort on our part.

     May we never overlook these moments of grace that we are gifted with everyday, if only we ackowledge them.

    

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She appears from up north wrapped in animal hide as waves subside
A vision in arctic ermine, face luminescent like the Fall equinox moon

Calling out for her children lost in the wintry wasteland of cosmic fires

Their names echoing in the caverns of her desolate heart

Feet planted firmly on permafrost - her eyes on the aurora borealis

Psychedelic kaleidoscope across the sky

And the tears that come with snow

Wondering if she will ever come to know

Children floating in space, orphaned by meteors cold

Stellar captives born of desperate romanticism
Of father sol, sister luna, brother brother can you spare a ladder?

Sorrow the color of bloody, muddied linen. Whose?

If you have to ask you know it's not yours to wash

Wash, weep, wallow in the world's sorrow

Snow is polar bear tears mixed with hunter's sweat

The first for fear, the other by the brow

The plump Inuit woman, for her corpulence her tribe's most pulchritudinous

Gives birth to a child, a baby of the universe, a bundle of bliss

In the Arctic wasteland sleeping, a ball of warm contentment being