The Meadows and Other Poems

Lately I have been very distracted. Blame it on the words that just seem to float out of nowhere and bother me until it gets down on paper. (I've developed a tic on one eye because of it. Like this 😉 ) So here it is in blog form.

THE MEADOWS

get out of the house,
ride through an unbeaten path
the sun baking one side of face

through the windowglass,
yellows and greens and blue
as open and as wide as laughter,

it beckons, "Come!

trudge through weeds that won't feed,
don't mind the burrs.

Fling your arms wide,
exhale city dust."

take in restoration.
don't live like a mouse.

hair free, we take out phones
look at the beauty with myopic eyes
and fail to thank God

love spoken out loud through
the meadows.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith


** Nature has a way of healing us. But we often don't appreciate it because it takes us away from what is comfortable and all our technology. A weekend with the family out by the seashore, rolling on dirt, breathing in salty ocean air, feasting our eyes on colors not on screen, and running/walking through miles and miles of wide, open spaces did wonders to our bodies and minds, (and relationships) that slowly was disintegrating into disorder. A chronic entropy. Nature deficient syndrome. Whatever you might call it, we cannot deny our way of living takes us far from what God has designed for us originally to live healthy, productive lives. We see it in our children. We see it in ourselves. We observe it in our society. Thank God, there's still much to enjoy out there. Take that opportunity. 


MEMORIES

My lungs laboring for breath
I lie supine
My face pressed on a pillow
Your hands on my spine.
Every gentle touch is medicine
Its warmth and care
Long-suffering love from a mother.

Another time I sat facing you
Your eyes attentive and admiring
Food before me growing cold
As I forgot to eat, but talked and talked.
What I saw in your face
Tells me I can be me
I am good enough to my mother.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith


** Memories with my mom will always be part of me. And many times, words come and go to describe the love that sustained me and still do and the life she lived to give me.

Lastly, here's one which tells about all this craze I'm in at the moment. :)


POETRY FEVER

It started with Akhmatova's
"I wrote the words that lately
I wouldn't dare to speak"
from then on I can't seem to stop
writing down thoughts in verses
or see colors and shapes, feel music
in words.

That feeling of grandiosity
like waves rising higher, I soar
with the birds, I pirouette like a gazelle
What is this madness I feel?
I think of life and love and duty
reflect on God and His beauty
I bow in humility.

I'm just an amateur in love
but I meet fellow travelers and I learn
I tremble at the beauty they hold
How can mortal beings create
with blood, with tears, with fears
something beautiful 
in its stead?

So I dig my pen on paper
which has flowers on its cover
when I gaze long enough, words pop
like popcorn in a hot pot
I crunch on them, good on my palate
God help me now, I dare to create
a poem.

Copyright © 2017 zernahfaith





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Grace

The Taste of Loneliness and The Antidote (Poetry)

The Taste of Loneliness

The taste of loneliness is such
a bitter pill refusing to budge
stays in place
on the tongue

a language I barely speak, of joy
felt, forgotten like rain in June
in a hot,
desert land

where no man is friend or foe
just that--- nothing. Indifferent:
dying, dying, gone
with ennui.

Warm Thoughts On a Frosty Night

Our yule tree is still up but there are more pine needles and christmas balls on the floor than there are on the tree. Little Roxy has been busy shaking the tree and "trading" balls around with her older sisters. She thinks they should be carried around hanging from the fingers, like a vendor would when selling ready-to-eat rice wrapped in niyog (coconut) leaves. These vendors are usually found in the Philippines in places where people are on the move, usually get hungry and  have no time to spare for cooking, like bus terminals or stopovers.

There's a snowstorm brewing right now. Our second to be blessed with for this winter. Snow has been scarce and so it's welcome. The brick fence with all the snow that settled on it looks so dreamy. Every time I see fresh snow, this comes to mind:

“Come now, let us settle the matter,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. (Isaiah 1:18)

The scene outside is like that of angels plucking feathers from each others' wings and flinging them all around in happy abandon. Maybe they're having a pillow fight with the pillows of clouds bursting white snow. So much activity going on outside, pretty much unlike the scene inside, well, without the children. In a weather like this, I don't need much, just some hot tea, a heated floor, family around, a book, my notebook and pen, and a warm blankie. And yes, my necessary zumba on some mornings to get the stiff out of my creaky bones.