WINDOW LAD

Centipede

2012-02-29T13:13:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

and i startled a tiny creature,
one morning, while looking for the saucepan:
it fled away so hurriedly with his many li'l feet
making many li'l steps
that will never be heard by the human-ears
but i clearly hear - yes,
i do.

one, two...
one, two, three... and five...
ah tough steps full of conviction
and i'm panting deep.

but kitchen ain't a place for a centipede
and so i grabbed him up(very carefully),
opened the backdoor, and
freed him there -
there...
outside...
back into the weeds
and into the earth...

back,
where it must be.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLink Night Tuesday.

Gesture

2012-01-23T09:49:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

partially boiled
offspring of nature,
pressed deep
over salted earth -
naked and still.

then wrapped
in plain sight
along with tasty sauce.

because,

this isn't for own
pleasure
but how it should
be presented
to the Gods.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

The Faun

2011-12-12T23:13:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

i.
Downhill in the woodland,
intimate with the woodbines
and - yes - there lies a faun;
there lies and alone.

ii.
Feeling the weed as it weeps
in cheer of Phoebus' touch
and list'ning to the walking
of the many li'l feet.

iii.
Breathing the scent of
mossy ancient rocks;
Tasting damp earth under-back -
careful and still.

iv.
Digging deeply the ends
of the blue firmament;
Sleuthing ev'ry strand
of Gaea's hair.

v.
Tired of making love
with Spring and Summer -
now, he's kissing the breasts
of Fall and Winter.

vi.
And, who cares if a nymph's
peeping from a far?
When he plays his pipe
a succulent tone?

vii.
Who cares if a blackbird stares,
sings elegiac verses? -
Who cares of death?
Who cares of its coming now?

viii.
A tiny creature - a ladybug -
sits on his palm:
One plain-look and
thousands of tales are told.

ix.
Who cares if a faun has settled
downhill in the woodland?
And there he lies - yes -
there lies and asleep.

Morning Companion

2011-11-08T17:05:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

And from this half-lighted room,
behind the glossy window,
I rest like the other birds waiting
for that stranger to feed me
in his hands.

But when I think how unknowingly
the light has entered into
my room and true-birds speak
languages of nature -
I am not one of 'em.
I am, still, more like the stranger,
waiting for the birds to come
with something good to eat
in my hands.

I am not betrayed. They're
here approaching in a half-timid manner -
one, two and three, and my hands
are full.

Then after a while,
the birds flew away.
They're gone now, too soon.

Ah, I should have prepared more
peanuts today.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

Mahogany Hour

2011-10-31T12:44:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

when i hear how convincingly
the mahogany speaks to me,
in behalf of my fathers
and the many of 'em, i believe,
i killed, i thought
i already mastered the flavours
of their tongues.

'til one night i breathed-in,
tasted the amber of
my furtive crime -
still ignorant.

my saliva fell silently
and created a river - the pigeons
and robins drink with
skeleton wings -

elks and hoppers came to
drink too, unaware of their
intangible existence.

and all of 'em, simultaneously,
speak to me and their language
is one i have never spoken
but i clearly understood.

it is not sacramental. it is
deeper, beyond elemental -
and i am guilty.

i open my eyes and, now, i see
the modern forest before me -
the crumpled sheets of my
ignorant deforestation.

one night i breathed-in
and my guilty pleasure's told -

i can no longer escape.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Secret Haiku Days II

2011-10-27T01:01:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

A buzzing sound came

Early morning in the field -

The flowers shivered.

Secret Haiku Days I

2011-10-27T00:54:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The morn awakes me

By some knocks at the window:

A Maya's peeping.

After the Rain

2011-10-20T23:59:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thou risest again,
dear Master,
re-righting thyself above.
Dark shades of un-
ending rain
passest by, departing
thy throne.
Red roses burning bright
ere the boughs
of a proud Mango tree.
Holy firmament, prithee,
loan me a li'l
bird's feet for
now i'm ready to give
my Master a dance -
rejoice!
Rejoice!

Rainy Days

2011-09-23T10:41:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Stirring cup of hot
chocolate tea
bedded by saucer
one familiar eve
in September equinox.

Missing those prairie days
when only the silence
of scattered ancient rocks
disturbs your curiosity -

ah, so long since
a cricket hummed
his early psalm.

To Brother After the Storm (a Sestina)

2011-08-26T15:09:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The morn awakes us by the blueing sky
and of the passing by the fabric clouds.
Are thou asleep? Dear brother please be not.
The day is bright, Phoebus is coming out.
Can't thou hear the Mayas re-righting hymns
of bliss, hither, after the darkest night.

The boughs and leaves were no in-cheer last night,
birds panicked hither and there up the sky.
The curse of death for some unwanted hymns
shattered in the air, clearing all the clouds.
Singing Titania, oh, why running out?
Dear brother, ah, let us afraid be not.

Beyond faith I begged death to take us not
and grant us chance to hear a silent night.
O, my brother why art thou a tear out?
O, why art thou a fear? Look up the sky
for soon the night will be a day of clouds.
Last night I said these words in sacred hymns.

The morn awakes us, aye, in calming hymns
of the Mayas but why I feel thee not.
Are thou asleep? Prithee, look at the clouds,
forget the fears of last rapacious night.
Can't thou see the art of the blueing sky?
Brother, dost thou hear? Ah, shed some words out.

Did I not tell thee, Pan's calling us out?
Did I not tell thee these are his Spring hymns?
And I fain would lie down before the sky
o, dear brother come hither, sleep thee not.
The day is long for thou to ask for night
and the show's rare for thou to miss the clouds.

I wonder how the seraphs swing the clouds
whilst naked and less of shame they come out.
O, brother why thine eyes look like the night?
Can't thou hear the seraphs in naughty hymns?
Prithee, tell me why thou, still, speak 'me not?
Why do I cry before this lowly sky?

The morn awakes me by the blueing sky -
dear brother's asleep, hither, wake thee not.
Aye! Rest and sing to me thy silent hymns.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's FormForAll Thursday.

Scream

2011-08-23T23:14:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Fifth floor, room fifty five
each step a path to Hell -
still and gloomy.
I can't hear. I can't hear.
Doth the baby cry?:

No.
No.
Never.

Fifth floor, room fifty five
each step a path to Hell -
still and gloomy.
I can hear. I can hear...

the mother's wail.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

Ella las Artes

2011-08-17T02:38:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

When I saw how carefully you applied mascara
to your eyes, smeared that white powder-cream
into your face, rubbed your lips with those
glossy, crimsoned sticks trying to perfect your art
I thought I understood why you were a woman.

Until you rolled the showers on (one lazy summer eve).
The moon can tell the poverty you hid for now your
art's gone. Gone. Those battered days are told.

You are not a woman. You are more of a slave.
A mere accessory. The plague I loved. You are my
father's wife, yes, in many a-secret night.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

Dear God...

2011-08-15T12:38:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Just when I thought thou

Art a man in me, thou grinned:

'Child, I'm not done yet.'

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

The Three on Eternity (a retold tragedy)

2011-08-03T02:57:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

I...
A lost soul.
A vagabond.
A dreamer abused by fate.
A fool. The beast of my
own nightmare.

Who are you?
Where am I?
W-What's this...
w-why am I holdin' a knife with blood?
Who is that man?
That man... yes, that man lying
on the ground...(tainted with blood).
O, Jesus! He's dead!
T-That man is dead...
b-but, who killed that man?
w-who...
What?! n-no...
m-me?! no... no...!
Stop... no...!
I didn't do that!
I didn't kill that man!
Stop! I said stop...!
who are you? show up...
show me yourself... coward!
Do not hide!
Enough... stop accusing me...
who are you?
Enough... please...

'Twas mid-summer and the sun's
in the brightest mode while licking each
sweat in my half-darkened skin -
scorching.
I managed to dress neat, somehow,
wearing the plain white polo shirt
mother bought through the
compensation she earned from
a day of tireless laundering -
kissing the floor of the Kings.
Hoping to get hired this time
I started my walk in this
Hell for the 24th time,
in search of a favorable chance
out of the many unfavorable fate.
Finding glory in every face of this
tangible reality.
Hours later...
and later...
and later...
My plain white polo shirt now raped
by dirt -
I am still a loser.
A nobody...
for the 24th time
this year.

I'm home...
mother? m-mo...(sigh).

I sat down placing my hand on top
of my head - for awhile
I am afloat in a room surrounded
by silence.
Unfathomable silence.
Hearing naught but hunger.
Feeling naught but envy.
Speaking naught but anger.
Thinking naught but madness.
I looked around.
My sight's in search of something...
something I badly needed at the
moment. Something bright - yes,
brighter than any other light.
Light. I saw it... there...
hanging loosely in necessity along
with the other aluminum utensils
in the kitchen -
dusting.
Rusting.
Scenting like opium. I got
addicted. I grabbed it.
The knife's now in sacred
communion with my
hands. I left home like a pagan
in a jocund state
forgetting the world...
mother...
myself -
freedom.

N-No... n-no...!
O, Jesus... no...
p-please...
y-yes... I did it...
I killed that man.
O, Jesus... forgive me...
what have I done...
h-how... w-why...?
Forgive me...
I didn't mean it...
f-forgive me... o, please...
please...
I did not...

I...
A lost soul.
A vagabond.
A victim of fate.
A witness to a lost dream.
A fool. The stealer of my
own life.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

Not Yet the Wind

2011-08-01T13:52:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

i am the slave
of many a-summer day.
a full-time
apprentice of the
naughty air.
i halt the heat,
at least, by
spreading my wings,
wide-open in
nobility
for the chance of seeing
a rare contented face.

i drink many a-rainy day
tasting the salt of
nearing retirement age -
still, i can fly.

i am the slave
of many a-summer day
and the many
contented faces none.
my wings are dull
and rusting old -
but i can fly.
i can fly.

i am the apprentice of
the naughty air
in many a-summer day
and many a-rainy day.
i spread my wings,
my rusts shattered in
the air - still,
not yet the wind
to art a contented face.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Departure

2011-07-29T01:20:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

When I hear rain falls

I thought I already knew

Why the crickets sing.

Almost a Home

2011-07-27T02:41:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

...and then i woke up
hearing those old-new songs
of the Mayas re-
righting themselves
in the boughs of an aged tree –
a typical scene in an
untypical morn.

the clouds are silent
not dimmed but half-unmoved.
not down but deep, deeper –
unfathomable.

cool breezes i feel
fast approaching, half-dead –
intangible.

same whispers i hear,
again, clinging into
my ears, uninvited decibels
from soul of my soul –
enough.
enough.

the Mayas are there
nesting higher
singing old-new songs,
always divine,
always unaware of the
coming death.

ah, the smell of pancakes from
below now abounding,
occupying this li’l cage.
the teapot’s whistling
always a sweet serenade –
but mom’s not calling,
perhaps, she’ll never do.

the piano’s there
dusting along with a composition
so long undone,
so long undone –
dad’s not coming to play,
perhaps, he’ll never do.

tables, chairs, hanging frames
on the wall…
novels, wooden toys and…
why untouched?

why?

...and when i woke up
hearing those old-new songs
of the Mayas re-
righting themselves
in the boughs of an aged tree...
i am all alone
in this cage –
almost forgotten.

almost a home.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

Moods

2011-07-26T09:54:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

i.
In the witching hour
a fire deity sat before me
and offered a drink
of honey-filled firmament:
I rearrange the stars.

ii.
Leveling the curves
in my face is like tracing
invisible patterns
of this aging world: the
Nile's flooding in my eyes.

iii.
Moods - secretive state
of happiness kept
within self, beyond one's
understanding: ah, tomor-
row's another racing cycle.

iv.
Salty vegetarian
sleeping in a saucepan,
cooked by the heat of
an angry Fahrenheit:
sweet dreams my dear.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Strange

2011-07-11T22:53:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

like the so many
a-face
i see in the air
that slowly passing by...

the so many
a-step
that shakes the earth...

like the so many
a-voice
that clings into my ear...

the so many
a-thought
i am trying to kill...

all of these that
is-low-lee-pass-sing-buy

to me, are

strange.

tonight,
i am begging to make sense
in this world
oak-you-pied-buy-nun-sense.

the country badly needs
a hero -
but all of 'em
already 6 feet below:

fossilized.

what shall we do?
of course.
of course.
hire an
ant-throw-Poe-low-jizz:

insane.

what 'bout an
arc-key-yo-low-jizz?:

ah, murderous insane.

but, what shall we do?
to save this world?
from the mouth of a hungry
all-lee-gate-tour.
who cares?

who

c-a-r-e-s-?

enough...
all of these that
is-low-lee-pass-sing-buy.
enough.

art or scrap?
or, maybe worth a clap...

ah, who cares? all of these,
to me, are

is-train-age.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Moaner of the Valley

2011-07-11T04:44:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

when the clouds start to feed the earth
with the residue of now a silent heaven,
there you see his wrinkled hands
craving for another intangible affair - a
communion with his aged mandolin.

tonight, he prepared two songs:
one for love; the other for death.
the night is shattered, birds have settled
o, let the gods hear this moaning deep.

love is...
pain when you embrace the truth;
'tis hate when you kiss the promise;
'tis envy when you engulf the pride;
'tis pity when you give ev'rything;
'tis strange - yes, strange as the first
drop of rain...
ah, love is selfish when you know 'tis right.

(rain falls endlessly bathing the communion of two
old soul - the night is too long to end a song...)

but death...
'tis sweet, sweeter, the sweetest thing of all
if you know naught of the first song.
to forget love is to live -
yes, the sweetest thing of all
and better death come soon.

the night is shattered, birds have settled,
the rain falls endlessly and -
love is missed.

Ode to Phoebus

2011-07-04T20:29:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

And thou rose above, my highness,
And sit before my eyes. The
Birds are a-singing, old-new
Songs in sweet, divinest falsetto
Not knowing how quickly they
Must die.

The spirits of the breeze rejoicing,
The lawns are a-swaying,
And I am in arrears to thee,
My highness, for eating much of
These luscious xanthocarpous
Firmament.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

The Wallflower

2011-06-29T16:27:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Lifting up half-full,

Sweet scented margarita -

A glass's chilled once more...

The moon's high, the night's deep and

Her tempted hills still unmoved.

On Seeking Finality (Pondering Philosophy II)

2011-06-27T21:38:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

fire plus water is air
air plus earth is dirt
dirt plus water is mud
mud plus fire is ash

ash is used to art Man
Man is art by God

Eve - a woman not a Man
ergo, Eve is not art by God

then who art the latter?

God is a Man and
Man is art by God
doth God art himself?

if not, then who art the latter?

ah, who art fire...
who art air...
water and earth?
who art we?
how... how...
why art these?
prithee, tell me...
dost thou know?

fire plus water is air
air plus earth is dirt
dirt plus water is mud
mud plus fire is ash

and ash is used to art Man
Man plus sin is sinner
but Man is art by God
doth God, himself, a sinner?

if not, then who art sin?
who art sinners?

who art we...

why art these..?

tell me... tell me...
dost thou know?

ah, fire plus water is air
and on... and on...

like a round song...

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Stolen Beauty (a sonnet from the past...)

2011-06-20T20:36:00.010+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thou, when once a wild rose amongst thy bees
When every breeze of air adores thy grace
And the earth's tamers seem so hard to cease
From casting enchanted spells for thy race.
In a place where mourning seems out from thee
Venus came to shower her precious tears;
With all the glamour now thine eyes can't see,
The falling mists of dark pearls wake thy fears.
Wrinkles appear, thy petals start to fall,
Lines of mortality engrave thou frail.
Sweet murmurs of hell leave a tragic call,
As dried fountain of youth leads thee to wail.
Thou, when once a wild rose so young and blest
Now lies in the grave ere thy Lord's behest.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Drinking Sake on the Last Steps of Day

2011-06-16T09:15:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

...and then i've found myself
waiting for the last steps of day
thinking of the loveliest
of Sakura trees,
the cool breezes on oka,
the rushing sound of kawa...
while, i, listening to the music
coming from strings of a samisen.

at times i'd go with my love to
watch the snowing of Fujisan, or
otherwise, attending a
Kabuki play in Osaka with
the lovely Jasmine hiding in her kimono.

oh, how i loved to write her
name in Hiragana... yes, that name...
to me, forever, a jocund memory.

oh, how fast these changes are
like the loveliest of
Sakura trees...
now kissing the ground -
i know...
i should know...

and suddenly i fill my cup
once more with this sake...
this sake...
ah, what is sake, anyway? -
of course...
of course...
...'tis a Japanese rice beer.

Dead Star

2011-06-13T22:39:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

still, frigid, homed siren...
secret songs she'd never sing,
hither, for the dawn.

abandoned by Triton
for loving the sky
and lurking with the
Pelicans and more...
and more...

adoption came swiftly from
an Urban faun.
alluring promises of
Urban-diva-fame.

now she's staged ere all faces
framed, aged novels, a marble bust.
still, frigid, Urban diva -
a dead star in a room.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

To Brother after the Storm

2011-06-09T19:44:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The morn awakes thee

By the passing of the clouds -

The roof is missing.

News Item

2011-06-06T23:43:00.009+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

and she walks by the street -

a woman-rushing-hour.

her feet on hills,

her legs on skirt...

her nails well polished,

her lips a rose to fit a
well-drive mascara on...

and though her mind's afloat with
her curled mocha hair...

still, she manages to look like a Venus' heir.

yet in ten and five a-minute
all will be none of sense.

and when the light turns green
she crosses the lane.
hurriedly... hurriedly...
the woman-rushing-hour shocks
the folk behind.

and though she put well her mascara on
there's still one thing...
she forgot to wear her eye balls on.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

Frog

2011-06-01T21:53:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

leaping high -

"croak!"

leaping low -

"croak!"

cattails shivered...

(digesting malaria
one at a time...
...done.)

leaping high -
"croak!"

leaping down -
water-sound.

Remembering

2011-05-24T13:16:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Trees and vines and grasses

Grew abundantly
In a hill not so high

There rest silently.

And hither, I, walkin'

O'er soft blade of grass

Whither heroes once slept
So long, ere, I pass.

O, this earth 'neath my feet

The earth they had lived;
The air that clings in me

The same air they breathed.

Now I've come, let me see

Thy grieving candles;

O let me feel once more

Thine ardent cycles.

The fog of death arrives,

All barefoot in fire.
Shots aired, hungry carbines,
Requiem in a lyre.

Vengeful bullets passing

In my flesh it chills.

Rolling heads, bleeding holes,

Noble screams that kills.

Furtive whispers I hear,

Thousand agonies;

Leaves of uttered futures,
Ah, decayed mem'ries.

And thou, who fought and won,
Cross's and stones - thy fate;
And though thy hour's long gone
To forget I'll hate.

Now I've come, let me see.
Let me feel hither...
Echoes from soul to soul
Let me hear clearer.

Trees and vines and grasses
And ye... O, list now;
To rem'mber thou always,
Forever I vow.

Bird Songs

2011-05-21T18:11:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

O, whose fine voices

These are I hear in the air?

That art naught but bliss.

'tis not a poem... 'tis deeper...

Deeper than a sage's old song.

Mad Rain On Summer May

2011-05-09T21:47:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

mad.

i lift the saucepan

t'wards the pancakes.

each plate i smeared

with golden fluid

making

all four;

i rearrange in three,

two... sigh.

rain.

today. my eyes drink a lot of

this earthly change.

on...

...off. done.

i fill the cups

with some cheap chocolate bars.

[now, cheap chocolate teas

after the boiling

process]

sigh.

summer.

yesterday. my trunks -

ready to be drowned on

the beach just before

this earthly change.

ah, hurrah for

lollipops!

may.

may i have some pancakes,

please. and change your shape in

my front: a laundrywoman

in her frowning face.

sigh.

oh, i want a sauna bath

this eve.

The Secret Poem

2011-04-29T19:39:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

listen,

for i will tell thee

about a secret

i kept in the wind.

i am a poet,

dost thou believe?

yes, i am...

i am the killer

of all hidden words;

the digger of the

deepest thoughts;

i am the weaver

of all broken souls;

the stealer of the past, the healer of

the present, the ghost of the coming years.

i am a poet

yes, i, truly, am...

ask the wind...

i write

when there is none that writes;

i laugh

when there is none that laughs;

i weep

when there is none that weeps;

i sleep

when there is none that sleeps;

i live

when there is none that lives.

because

i am a poet,

dost thou believe?

and this is

my secret

perhaps, the wind

will tell thee

soon.

my life is like that of a bird:

i will die

but, there is none that knows.

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's OpenLinkNight Tuesday.

A Poem

2011-04-11T10:55:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

and a poem to me

is like the sound

of a singing harp
in the woods
and I -
lured by the
whispers of the
passing nymphs...

need not to be deep
so as not to be ardent;

need not to be soft
so as not to be weak;

and need not to be tragic
so as not to be powerful.

as long as

it touches the

soul of a

human heart

and cleaves

those horns

of an

angry faun...

then a poem to me

is magical.

Lowly Bridge

2011-04-07T16:34:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Old bridge: I stopped by

To see the water mirrors

A weeping woman.

Emeute

2011-04-05T22:35:00.001+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The Sky

and the Wind

are having a quarrel.

the Wind:

Ah, I can throw the sweetest kiss

That let those birds sing in bliss.

I can give the warmest blow

And wake those trees from hug of snow.

the Sky:

That may be true my dear

But, can you art some figure of a running deer?

What 'bout some ludicrous hare in the weed

The way my lovely clouds did?

Can you fall a tear from a lover's eye

After seeing some vermilion sky?

then for a moment...

...and what can you say...

yes you poor li'l one? -

addressing

a third party, a child of earth and

a humble listener,

a sitting

Jasmine:

I think sweet blows and kisses are really true

As well as those figures of ludicrous clouds I see;

And forgive me I cannot give either of what you, two, can do

But oh, I can make good tea.

Contentment

2011-03-30T22:19:00.000+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

O, some words like this I cannot dig

In ev'ry damp earth my toes kissed;

And it's like counting patience long hid

In ev'ry Melon sprouted in eggshells.

O, what a simple word I cannot see

In ev'ry bird I hold with my hands.

Maybe these birds shall have their liberty

Before I see a field of flowering Marigolds.

Naughty Wind

2011-03-30T14:52:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Then I saw her crossed the street,
A petite dalagita;
And her long, night-coated hair
Plays like guryon in the air.

The Firefly

2011-03-24T13:10:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

and from
a distance
above a sleeping
river
and growing
lilies
i saw
a firefly.
noble...
daring...
roaming...
struggling for fame
with the moon.

then a
sudden breeze
of cold air
launched
a move
from the
night's ambush:
"croak! croak!" -
and the
firefly's
gone.

The Mango Harvest

2011-03-10T00:51:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

O mint green, half-ripe mangoes
In baskets of all sizes...
And blushing ladies I see
Laughing ere a mango tree.

Insomnia

2011-02-17T18:46:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

water -
dancin' in the air.
slowly...
gently...
in the air.

from the air
to my head
and arms
and toes...
unconscious,
pure,
salty,
silent
like tears.

frog -
frog croaks.
first once...
then twice...
then more
and more and
more
and more...
'til frog
breathes
no more
in my hands -
my
laughing
hands.

the spirits...
the spirits of
the breeze -
o, fin'lly
i heard
'em cry.
grieving.
grieving for
the loss
of Gaea's
knight...
and i -
i shall
have my
coveted
possession
in this dark
lair of
Zeus.

please...
o, Somnus
grant me.
grant me
silence.
make me...
o, please make
this restless
soul
be
your
sleeper
this
eve.

Untitled

2011-02-04T09:08:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Love, to me,
is like a rose
that blooms ever more fair
on the first song of Spring...
When gently passed
by a knight in horse,
before all curse
of nobility calls,
a diff'rent romance
below the moon...
And the rose
is not a rose
anymore...

Oh, love...
love, to me,
is like a rose...
and Spring will sing
another song.

Discovery

2011-02-01T17:35:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Stopping by the woods...

A spider walks in the air -

Oh! sunny, bright sky.

Lord, I Thank Thee for the Gift of Another Day

2011-01-28T10:05:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Lord, I thank thee for the gift of another day

From warm blankets to the glossy window.
A blue-ocean feathered bird drops a li'l hay -
O, li'l chirps... can't wait to hear in few weeks I know.

In a nearby garden wild daisies aglow
With naughty butterflies roaming slow.
Sunshine on my shoulder, my face - O, grace above
Praise thee my Lord for thine eternal love.

From a distance I can see some ripened mangoes
Hanging gently in groups and rows.
Some peck by lovely, cheerful Mayas...
Some leap by people who come and pass.

The clouds are brighter, as lively forever
And the voices of the air - so pure I can almost sway.
O, the blue-ocean feathered bird now silent sleeper...
O, Lord thank thee... What a beautiful day.

Red Sky

2011-01-07T00:19:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

gliding high,
by the hymn
of cold
zephyr,
a pigeon
of full-pride...
sunshine
on wide-opened
wings...
O, defining nobility...
alluring felicity.

somewhere...
behind the
willows
and ebonies,
beyond
echoes of bliss -
a lurking
eye.
screaming greed
of wanting...
grinning for pleasure...
a call of honor -
hunger.

lifted rifle,
45 degree...
pointing straight
up on dimming
sky...
beside are
grieving nymphs...
singing
Titania...
O, hour
of requiem...

and gliding
high - a poor pigeon.
rushing out -
soaring bullet.
when both
collide...
O, hearken
prithee
O, Lord -
red sky.

The Clouds

2011-01-01T11:39:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

O, what love art such bliss
That fill this heart with sweet caress?
What faith, what hand of peace
Can art such grace of no distress?

Clouds set to meet a dove
Did God put ye there for us to glance?
O, lovely clouds above
Did a naughty seraph swing thee to dance?

New Year's Eve

2010-12-31T23:35:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Tick-Tack-Tick-Tack...
Grieve by an aged clock
Busy bodies, doing glad
No reason to be sad.

Breaded pork, roasted chicken
Mom cooked in the kitchen
Lemon juice, sun-ripened fruits
A carpet made of jutes.

Fireworks stand one-by-one
Ready to race, give some fun
Dad made a sample in the sky
O, delighted faces goes high.

Empty table now adorned
Bounty food, a salad corned
Fiery flashes, star-burst effects
Soon to fill the sky with no regrets.

Tick-Tack-Tick-Tack...
Grieve by an aged clock
10, 9, 8, and 7, and six...
'til the countdown end this New Year's eve.

~Happy New Year!!!

December Nights

2010-12-01T09:13:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Cold breeze, sweet carols

Hanging lanterns on the streets -

O, warm jasmine tea.

At the Woods on a Rainy Evening

2010-11-20T18:49:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

In the witching hour I stand before thee
Yes thee - my majesty, beloved moon.
Thy grace shall praise this love I keep in me
For nights and days - my lady, please come soon.
Pray thee, o moon! This love shall have to sow
Seeds of rose not thorns to a lonely heart;
But my love, my lady - where are ye now?
By lure of fate, o we shall never part.
Hiding cicadas on dark willows sing;
The Gods above art golden strings of light.
Nymphs are dancin' around and Pan's piping;
Fog fills, rain's pouring - all is blurred in sight.
The rest - I shall wait the sky end this cry;
My lady - why make this love end in lie.

The Widow

2010-11-04T22:59:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Falling leaves of Maple trees
On the ground, on her shoulder.
Little chirps on lonely breeze
Of little birds nesting higher.

Oh, have bath: the squirrels leave;
Have tea: crack nuts the woods kept.
Tonight's the coldest winter eve
Since the gentleman left.

Life on the Farm

2010-10-23T12:23:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

People get up early on the farm
The crowing of the cocks rings
Loud and long - loud and long
Awakened people sing

The chickens have to be fed
The whole flock in different hues
A beautiful sight to see 'em around
Crowding at the grains thrown to 'em

Some peck daintily at the grains
Others peck rapidly
They are very much like people
All so hungry in the morn

Nearby, pigs begin to squeal and snort
As if they know it's their turn to eat
When someone passes by the pigsty
Pigs run along the sides begging for food

Much hard work, fun and laughter on the farm
Birds chirp merrily, hopping from branch to branch
Each has its own peculiar song
Boys can imitate so lovely in glee

At the farm people eat fruit sun-ripened on the trees
Sweet and delicious corn on the cob
Peanuts, sugarcane, and sweet potatoes in abundance
People don't have to buy these things

On certain months it rains and rains and the streets become sticky with mud
People stay indoors most of the time then
At night it's fun to cuddle between warm blankets in bed
So good to be with one's family

After the rains the sky is blue again
Light clouds race across the summer sky
The birds are happy, they fill the air with their songs
Of gladness, and joy, and cheers to the Lord

The golden grains of palay hang
On the slender rice stalks
Farmers are full of pleasant smiles
Harvest time has come on the farm

Blue Soldier

2010-10-16T01:51:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

rusty rifle
he had for years...
dusts, spider webs
on his faded jeans...

ripped-ear teddy
on his side...
a fractured crib
near the window-sill.

rats and roaches
love his hat...
his shoe - his shoe...
one leg is down.

tainted curtains,
broken panes...
a room in glee
once upon a time.

little lad, little lad -
the days are gone.
those days are gone -
oh, naughty John.

one, two, three...
and a few more stairs
to the garret
oh, old gentleman.

Behind the Window

2010-10-12T11:18:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Behind the window...
Pines are swayin'
Back and forth - back and forth
Live and slow.

Glowing sunflowers
Scattered like gold
'neath the sun
And the bluish sky.

In the nearby river
Are alluring daffodils
Whither pixies do hang,
Dancin' in harmony.

And the lowly clouds
Sculptin', sketchin'...
A hare, a doe and more - and more.
A clan of swan and more - and more.

Pines are swayin'
Back and forth - back and forth
Oh, behind the window...
A bird in sorrow.

Rainy Eve

2010-10-03T16:32:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The clouds hid all stars.

Crickets sing, grieving in tone.

Croak! Croak! The frog hops.

Paganly

2010-08-02T00:00:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

I do worship thee,

O Lord! Sacramental? No.

Like a skylark? So.

Stone Bird

2010-07-25T17:30:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thou art thine own sky

Above the Oaks and Laurels

And Pan reached no thee

When he freed his summer verse

For thy life's caged by a sage.

Blessing...

2010-07-20T10:47:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

My heart rejoices

Each time I see God in thee

Smiling back at me.

Premonition

2010-07-13T10:55:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Silence.

Silence of the beasts
In the wild whither evil feasts.

The maple, the laurel - all cryin'.

Ogre pulled the saw whilst laughin'

Seized the day with ruthless rippin'.

First - a mile away.

Second - a meter close.

Third - the bullets end their way.

Deers and hares lying in rows.

Rivers flowing in blue.

Crimsoned by greed, lost its hue.

Rivers flowing upon demons cue.

Silence of the beasts

Ghosts art by men so hard to resist -

Justice.

A Love Story

2010-07-01T18:10:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Braiding her long hair

One Summer at a window -

I saw a fairy...

Now her braided hair mourning,

Lying calm o'er my coffin.

At the Guillotine

2010-06-27T12:02:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

'Tis not by fate why thou all gathered here
To witness this departure of my soul
But rather 'tis my will - Aye! Dost thou hear?
So, prithee! Don't let such tear curse my whole.
The sweetest death is yet to come my way
And my blood will soon reunite this land
But I know I have naught against to say -
This land I tried to save from evil's hand.
O, patience where are ye? Too long I wait...
As Father Time releases swift on high.
Then seraphs came and play the harps of fate
And Lucifer soon rolled his scythe hereby...
O, at last mis'ry laughs, death starts to chime
And aired to crowd the words: "It's time! It's time!"

--- ><> ><> ><> ---

This is part of dVerse~Poet's Pub's Meeting the Bar: Critique and Craft Thursday.

Love Song

2010-06-19T02:12:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

My love's like
a rose...
and
I, her
butterfly...
Once upon a time.

Ere
all knights
of still dawn
touch her
lonely thorns;
Ere
all pixies
kiss her
lovely breast;
And ere
all lowly clouds
drink her
precious tears.
I love thee -
I love thee first.

Then
twilight
came...
gathered all
bliss...
Psalm verses,
sung by
naked seraphs...
and
my love,
yes my love's still like
a rose -
but this time
old and dyin'.

Prithee! O Lord,
prithee!

O, my love -
My love's like
a rose...
and
I, forever her
butterfly.

Little Feet

2010-06-06T12:49:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Little feet, little feet
Go out and feel the heat
Of morning dews, blazing sun...
O, little feet want to run.

Little feet, little feet
Come on, depart that seat
The lawn was set whilst robins wait -
A grand race outside the gate.

Little feet, little feet
Do you feel the beat?
Of little drops, little drops
Of falling rain on your little hops.

O little feet, little feet
Truly, a fun day you had.
You ran and hopped but time to quit
Tomorrow again so don't feel bad.

Autumn Trees

2010-06-02T23:06:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

As I look to thee...

It's like seeing face to face

The men of old time.

A Farmer's Diary

2010-05-29T01:03:00.008+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

10
o' clock
Friday mornin'...
The crops are swayin'
back and forth -
back
and
forth.
Dancin'...
in the burnin' breeze
of cheerful wind...
and dyin'...
(O, poor... my loyal beast
have lost 10 pounds...)
beneath all
Phoebus'
grace.
Alas -
alas.

10
o' clock
Friday evenin'...
O, the very first
miracle came
on my lonely May.
At last...
at last...
the long-sought
tears from Venus
fulfill my plea
(and my loyal beast
now in glee...) -
rain.

Rejoice

2010-05-22T17:53:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The clouds art thousand faces
Of ev'ry man who crossed their ages
And the seraphs, out of li'l voice,
Began to sing a sweet rejoice - rejoice.

Dragonflies and butterflies
Living knights in this paradise
Where Gaea lies her painful joys
To raise this land in sweet rejoice - rejoice.

Scattered dews on lonely grass
Spark in bloom when your bonny lass
Comes and fulfills her choice
To dance the tune of sweet rejoice - rejoice.

Oh, li'l seeds buried for months
Now huge Oaks of noble ranks
Where naughty dreams of young girls and boys
Spring in cheer with sweet rejoice - rejoice.

If I Were...

2010-05-20T07:37:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

If I were a month...
It would be 'April' -
The month your lad was born
And cursed to be at the window sill.

If I were a day...
It would be 'Sunday' -
The day a family stay
Together to play.

If I were a time of the day...
It would be at the time
When twilight and dawn
Battles for the throne.

If I were a season...
It would be 'Spring' -
And Pan, so full of reason
To heal a seraph's broken wing.

If I were a planet...
It would be 'Venus' -
Shines the brightest above
Ere all wills of Zeus.

If I were a direction...
It would be a straight one -
No lefts... no rights...
No choices but to move ahead.

If I were a drink...
It would be somethin'...
That could truly ease one's thirst
Like a fresh water on stream.

If I were a tree...
It would be a 'Red tree' -
Stays longer than the deaths of late
So high and close to reach heaven's gate.

If I were an animal...
It would be a 'dolphin' -
Swimmin', singin', divin' at the sea
Infinite moments of glee.

If I were an instrument...
It would be a 'harp' -
Surrenders only to those
Who knows how to touch my strings.

If I were a fruit...
It would be a 'mango' -
Sour to those who rush...
Sweet to those who wait.

If I were a food...
It would be a healthy one...
Like veggies and fruits -
Let's all go green this time.

If I were a celebrity...
Oh, it would definitely be someone
Who could act and sing and rhyme,
Someone on earth so like me.

If I were a color...
It would be 'blue' -
So pure... so true...
Like the ocean waving through.

If I were a book...
It would be an 'Encyclopedia' -
Would love to contain knowledge
'bout people, places, countries and more.

If I were a song...
It would be 'Footprints In The Sand' -
Where each lyric of the song
Deeply says you're not alone.

If I were a movie...
It would be a 'love story' -
Of man's greed and selfishness
Against God's eternal love.

If I were a flower...
It would be 'forget-me-not' -
As the name portrays my plea:
Hope the world would forget me not.

If I were a facial expression...
It would always be a 'smile' -
Means less in every day life
Yet, a miracle to someone in despair.

And if I were to tag people I know...
It would be you - yes, all of you...
You may grab and follow or simply ignore this tag
Whichever, I know I had so much of fun.

A Young Prisoner's Tale

2010-05-16T11:02:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Blankets, pillows, hanged portraits on the wall
A chair, a table, not heaven nor hell...
Old scenes come and go each day I recall
In darkness of this one-room citadel.

Li'l soldiers, robots, books of thousand tales
Were loyal companions since I was raised.
The Grecian clock which ev'ry midnight wails
So old its face as if the greats were praised.

I'm weak and pale and a pris'ner for life
A stealer, a murderer - an innocent child.
Since the day I stole my father's wife
'til the world decides - I, be sent to wild.

I'm bored and wretched, my feet want to run
Like a deer, like a hare, like a stallion in the woods.
But I'm weak and pale and a pris'ner by fate
And cursed to count each minute I have on earth.

I've seen the beauty of winter, spring, summer and fall
Yet, I've never seen a beauty so like of the woman on frame.
Hers was pure, as graceful as the clouds above
Like a rose without thorns, like a harmless swan.

Blankets, pillows, her portraits on the wall
A chair, a table, which heaven? Which hell?
Crickets at night, the robins at dawn...
For the next days I shall be with thee ere all golden lawn.

To Art a Home...

2010-05-11T20:09:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

First blue - sea and sky...

Then green - dig holes, drop li'l starts...

Sprinkle love - forest.

Sunset

2010-05-06T12:29:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The sirens meet at the shore...

The firmament clears the throne...

Poseidon roars and turns gold -

When he swallowed thy highness.

Moving On...

2010-05-03T12:23:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The tide is high and blue and weary
Pigeons glide in clan and hurry
The sky may cry and seem so dreary
But I'm moving on - moving on.

The path is long and dark and scary
Thousand faces flashed in fury
My eyes are tired and down and teary
Still I believe - I believe...

I believe in the deepest sea a mermaid sings,
That somewhere in the mist are angels' wings.
I believe for every drop of rain a flower glows,
That after winter and autumn falls spring grows.

I believe above the darkest sky a rainbow shines,
For every stillness a prayer chimes.
I believe in the smallest light a hope blooms,
That somewhere in the strangest place a friend shows.

The tide is high and blue and weary
Pigeons glide in clan and hurry
The sky may cry and seem so dreary
And now I'm moving on - moving on.

De Profundis (a cry of misery)

2010-04-21T19:06:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

The sun rose...
The moon will hide...
Why the two can't rise
At the same time?

Angels are white...
Demons are black...
Yet, in the hour of life
White is darker than black

I love Shakespeare...
I love Browning...
But neither of them
Can steal Annabel Lee

They say 'Home is where it is'
I say, 'Where is it?'
Earth or Hades...
What's the diff'rence?

Who speak for meanness...
Who speak for goodness...
The beasts in the wild?
Or, the fool in the mirror?

Poems are for poets
Crowns are for kings
Theaters are for thespians
And 'I' for the world

The moon rose...
Now, the sun will hide...
Why the two can't fall
At the same time?

THREE POEMS: Stillborn

2010-03-24T17:08:00.008+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

I. Silence

The demons scythed the odds
The angels disappeared
When the words left by gods
Bathed all in tears.
Now, the light's out to hide
From the shadows of the crowd.
And all masked in woe
'neath the stillness of the night.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

II. Scream

Fifth
floor
room fifty five...
each
step...
a path to hell...
still
and gloomy...
I can't hear...
I can't hear...
Doth the baby cry?
No.
No.
Never.
Fifth
floor
room fifty five...
each
step...
a path to hell...
still
and gloomy...
I can hear...
I can hear...
The
mother's wail.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

III. Requiem

The angels and demons made the reason
For silence and screams fill the season

Demons blew away life of the new born
Delivered the crowd to a cursed illusion

The angels rejoiced for the soul of the newborn
The Lord hath prepared the heaven for creations

O, this departure released the sanity
Of a woman whose fate was to battle for cruelty

And lullabies are hard to sing if words can't be seen
By eyes blurred by tears slowly flowin' like rain

O, what kind of prayer? What kind of faith?
Is needed to ease such pain...

How long? How far? How steep?
The path t'wards the end...

She asked the Lord to open the heaven's gate
With eyes so pleased ere all saints

The angels came with flutes and harps
Playing tunes of bon voyage...

She closed her eyes and began to dream
A paradise where candles happily grieve...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Poesy

2010-03-22T14:23:00.006+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

First,
think of honesty...
Forget
the beauty
of frailty
between
thee
and me.
Amalgamate
misery
and
tragedy
not
by alchemy
nor
by geometry
but
thru liberty.
Drop
a blood
of
bouncing glee
and
chant
a mystery.
Then
prepare
to raise
nobility
for
you're
done
with

poetry.

Night-blooming Cereus

2010-03-22T13:58:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Tropical cactus...

White fragrant handsome flowers

Blooms when midnight fall.

Pondering Philosophy

2010-03-15T18:08:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

fire plus water
is air...

air plus earth
is dirt...

dirt plus water
is mud...

mud plus fire
is ash...

ash is used
to art man...

Man is art
by God...

Eve -
a woman...
not a man...

ergo,
Eve is not art
by God...

then
who art
the latter?

doth fire
when mixed
with air
can make
Eve?

Eve is not
a man...
but God is
a man...
and man is art
by God...

doth God art
himself?

if not...
then who art
the latter?

To Wander with the Clouds

2010-03-09T14:28:00.022+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Phoebus rose the day with all in awe
Robins and chickadees danced in aglow
And I shall walk in field where dandelions grow
To feel the zephyr of pixies' naughty blow

Pan plays his pipe - squirrels, reindeer came across
Nymphs of the forest helped me lift my cross

And I shall see the beauty of Gaea's mystic gloss
To ease yesterdays' pain and heal my loss

The glorious firmament flashed scenes of broken creeds
As I shed my tears amongst lonely weeds

And I shall wander with naught but the clouds above
Till heaven show the way to my forgotten love

A Prayer

2010-03-08T07:48:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Dear Lord hear my plea

O, this world is killing me

Please, please let them feel.

Child Soldier

2010-03-08T07:45:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

A life honed by fiend

Thrown in the fields of chaos:

Can't you hear her griefs?

Wild City

2010-03-01T07:56:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thousand faces
Come and pass
Deceiving images
Of a rotten grass

Heat's rages
A mortal enemy
Cold street edges
Always a frailty

To live each day
A curse of fate
In finding a way
T'wards heaven's gate

To survive a day
Is never easy
To ask for mercy
Is a burning rhapsody

To ask for penny
Is not a duty
Yet, the only hymn
To destroy famine

To the country's sages
What do they persist?
Death of young ages
They cannot resist

Greed's existence
Chained providence
Dark abyss of ills
Drowned good wills

O, wild city
One lives today
Is this the reality
All must stay?

The Lord is watchin'
From up above
Waitin'... just waitin'...
One to spread love

Let heaven shines
Unchain selfless hearts
Make the city of wild
A home for a child

Sleepwalker

2010-02-25T07:59:00.010+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

One... two...
One... two...
Walking
Or, dancing?
In the night...

One... two...
One... two...
Sleeping...
Dreaming...
Walking
Every night...

One... two...
One... two...
'neath the
Mystic
Moon...
One... two...
One... two...
'will lie down
The nymphs
Will sing
A lullaby...

Sweet night...
Sweet night...

Riddle... Riddle...

2010-02-15T12:43:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Have two eyes – blinded by ills…
Have two ears – deafened by greed…
Who are ye? O, who am I?
In the mirror you will find.

Colours of Love

2010-02-13T11:22:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

A love should be blue
Like the sky above...
So tame... so true...
As peaceful as a dove.

A love should be gold
Like crowns of noble Kings.
And time may pass, all Kings grow old
The crown remains ever shining.

A love should be red
Like a burning flame...
And words should be said
As gentle as a mist on flame.

Love shouldn't only be blue nor gold or red
But all the hues your eyes can view...
For Earth's a canvas, Love are paints to shed
Where all who art were as nice as you.

Starry Night

2010-02-08T07:51:00.002+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Starry, starry night...

How deep thou art of the Lord?

O, my starry night.

The Love of Phoebus

2010-02-05T10:42:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Hark! Hark! Pan will play,

Canaries came to sing hope.

Seraphim rejoiced

In the fields where tulips grow,

And white clouds art naught but bliss.

ATTENTION: Mother's Endangered

2010-02-02T07:52:00.014+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Have you ever breathed
The scent of death?
Have you not heard
Her call of grief?
Perhaps no... not at all.

Have you ever tasted
The flesh of a slaughtered bay?
Have you not seen
Her scattered decay?
Perhaps no... not at all.

Have you ever felt
The hell you left to her?
Have you not found
The heaven for sinners?
Perhaps no... not at all.

O, ignorance kills...
Greed spills...
When will you wake up...
When will you stop...

Fill pity... fill pity...
She cried of mercy...
Mother is endangered...
When will her call be heard...

The Nightingale

2010-01-25T11:56:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Her melodious song

Brings forth Old World romances

Like a sweet nocturne.

Miracles

2010-01-25T10:40:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

A boy stood

Before a maple tree -

a very aged maple tree.

The sun shines so bright

And the breeze of air

Simply whispering...

Up there are

Canaries singing -

singing at a branch of the

Aged maple tree...

Then a man suddenly approached:

Good morning boy...!

Are ye waitin' for miracles

To come on that tree?

Better enough boy...

That tree is hopeless...

He possesses no leaves at all

And blooms no more...

He's already there when

I was 20 and now

I'm 30 and

He still looks the same.

Hopeless...

Bloomless...

Almost dead...
The man took a deep sigh.

He had already missed

His times...

Poor maple tree...

Poor...

Then the man looked at

The boy and said:

Hey, what are ye thinkin' boy?

Nothing Sir... neither 'am waitin'

For miracles to come on him,

The boy replied.

What? Why are ye laughing?

The man asked.

The boy then looked at

The man with

Innocent smile

Saying:

Ever wondered...

Why he's still standin' there

Despite of his almost

Dead disposition?

Silence...

Seconds of silence...

The boy looked back

At the maple tree -

The very aged maple tree.

It is because...

He's enjoying...

Miracles...

The way I did...

Have a good day, Sir.

The boy ran away

And left the man

Almost

Wondering.

The Geisha

2010-01-21T14:17:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thou make one adore

Such love devoted to art...

Art cursed by Hades.

Fly Me to the Moon

2010-01-21T14:12:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Fly me to the moon...

- the fireflies light up my eve.

Fly me to the moon...

O please! Fly me up to thee...

- the spirits of the breeze sing.

The Pianist

2010-01-18T07:32:00.007+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

T'was Summer way back many years ago
In the same old place where she plays her piece.
A piece she plays with love I can't let go
For I was thorned by her grace hard to cease.
Her passion, her face - O, I miss those days
Where thou could hear nothing but melodies.
Melodies danced by angels 'neath sun's rays
Whilst pixies sing in the tune of her bliss.
But time walks, angels, pixies fade away...
Sweet melodies... decaying Autumn leaves...
What's the diff'rence...? Winter had blown her way
In place where candles grieve ere cypress trees.
Now, I play the piano... the birds will sing...
As I let go on the first day of Spring.

Reverie

2010-01-14T14:52:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

He hath his maiden

O'er vales of thousand roses

Where Pan plays his pipe...

Seraphs came, raised thy maiden -

Morpheus hath ceased his curse.

The Spider

2010-01-14T14:40:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Thou art thy own hoax

Gleaming form of silver threads

Silly prey beware!

I am a Clown

2010-01-11T10:57:00.005+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

I am a clown
'will travel a mile.
To ease your frown
And to give ye smile.

My hair was curled.
My face was set.
My head was filled
With hoaxes hard to forget.

I've packed more toys,
Sweets, bubbles to blow.
Come girls and boys
Let's start the show.

My hands will juggle:
Young ladies and gentlemen.
And my feet will waddle:
Laughs and cheers - O harken!

For I am your clown
Who traveled a mile.
To ease my frown
By giving ye smile.

On His Insanity

2010-01-06T07:50:00.009+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Ssshhh...
Ssshhh...
Anyone?
O come on... reveal thyself
Ye Lord of cravens!
What?! Huh...
Ha... Ha... a mouse...?!
O yeah...
Ha... Ha... Ha... Ha...!
A mouse!
The Lord of cravens is a mouse!
Come here... come...
Hungry?
Huh, you're not alone.
'ye know me?
Who am I?
Who art me?
And, who art thee?
Does He who art me art thee too?
Does He who art thee see what ye see?
Hear what ye hear?
And, feel what ye feel?
Huh...

Father? Father?
Father! What happened!!!
Father?! Father?!
Father please... wake up...
Please...
How could ye do this to thyself?
O, father...
How could ye do this to us?
Father...! Father...!
That was a tragic scene
I can not forget
Three years ago...
I was 18 and my brother was 20 years of age
When we decided to migrate
In the city
After father had committed suicide.
Yeah, we found him lying
On the floor holdin'
His gun beside him.
He immediately followed mother
In heaven...

Mother passed away
When we were still young.
Fate took her life away
From us...
She died thru cancer...
She had suffered a lot
But we don't have the
Money to afford
Her medicines and
Operations...
This was the first pain
I had ever gained
From this
Hell.
Very tough...
Very... very tough...
To see a dying loved one...
But we need to be strong
For her...
For father...
For us...

Help! Help me!
An old woman screamed from a distance.
The man...
The man stole my bag...
O, please help me...
Anyone...

We were selling rags on the road
When brother suddenly stopped
And leave all his rags to me.
He ran...
Brother ran to help the woman.
I tried to stop him
But, the circumstances
Did not allow me to do so.
Minutes later...
I followed him...
Brother?
Then several shots filled the air...
Followed by screams...

more screams...
Stillness...
Brother!!!
- was the last word I had uttered
Before my cheeks were bathed
With tears...
Yeah, my brother was accidentally
Shot by a police who came
To cease the robber.
Lamentation plays...
Darkness rose...
At last...
Nightmare's end.

Ssshhh...
Ssshhh...
Now, 'ye know me?
Who am I?
Who art me?
And, who art thee?
Does He who art me art thee too?
Does He who art me see what I see?
Hear what I hear?
And, feel what I feel?
Huh...
Am I crazy?
Or, am I insane?
Crazy or insane?
Insane or crazy?
Either ways...
I...
Am...
Free...

Fireworks

2010-01-03T11:08:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Many many things

They bring in everyone's mind

- colorful fireworks.

A Smile

2010-01-03T11:01:00.004+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Simple strokes of lips

When shared with a broken heart

Turn big acts of love.

Patience

2009-12-28T17:42:00.011+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

Day one:
Darkness. . .

Day two:
Darkness. . .
Stillness. . .

Day three:
Darkness. . .
Stillness. . .
Coldness. . .

Day four:
Darkness. . .
Stillness. . .
Coldness. . .
Weariness. . .

Day five:
Darkness. . .
Stillness. . .
Coldness. . .
Weariness. . .
Sadness. . .

. . .on the sixth day:
Dawn. . .
Freedom. . .
- butterfly.

To You... From Me...

2009-12-25T16:45:00.009+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

To Yvonne

She's been an inspiration
To many who feel hopeless
Her poems were simple and true
Like her since the day we've met.

To Jacajo

He's one poet to watch for
Who made good use of all words
He has lots of potentials
Many do not notice yet.

To Laura

A friend I had for so long
Who's been so thoughtful and kind
Her passion as an artist
Inspire many in the world.

To Mahesh

He's a very wise critic
A master in his own way
Thoughts from him were exquisite
He's a writer worth a deal.

To Chelie

Humble girl of the same land
Who made good in every work
Simple as she may seem, yet
She has lots of tales to tell.

To Madhu

A sweet lady from India
Whose thoughts touches many hearts
Her experiences in life
Truly a delight to read.

To Vittaldas

His sense in creating poems
Was as deep as who he was...
And many call him master
For the works cleverly done.

To Selchie

She's a hard working writer
Who knows how to rock each word
Her poems were simply bizarre
Made from vivid imagery.

To Remi

A very faithful woman
Who praises God in every poem
She made with all love and joy
Thru the gift of light she had.

To Karen

A gifted poet of life
Who knows the way to one's heart
To many she's a great one
For all braced in so much awe.

To Everyone

It has been a long, great year
Since I entered in this world
I found many good friends
Each made me a better man.

Today I'm celebrating
My first Christmas in Blogland
Now, let me thank each of you
For a year of fruitful days.

December Wish

2009-12-17T10:56:00.003+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

'Wish the moon can read my lips
And feel my heart's long desire
To see thee... a must to me...
Please don't leave my lonely eve.

One Plate for Dinner

2009-12-15T14:13:00.012+08:00

by Kelvin S. Mangundayao

He came along, excited and grateful
For, at last, he'll not be alone tonight.
But a note at the door makes him hurtful
For he's still alone after the twilight.
The door opened and then he entered in
A place called home - O, it'll never be real.
A house rich in vanity, pride, and sin...
Affection and care one can never feel.
The aroma of meat filled in the place.
Various fruits presented well on the tray.
But bliss still seems hard to find in his face
For no one wants to stay... always away.
Then he walks towards the table with feast
Where only his shadow remained so pleased.