Category: Poetry

Creative · Poetry · Prayer

When this blogger makes it to heaven

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Before I ask God a long list of queries;

After I give Him a big bear hug;

Before I touch His felicitous face;

After I kiss His pleasing palm;

I’d whisper reverently

Your name, your name my friend:

To bless your heart, bless your heart

For blogging and being a blessing

For greater good, greater good.

I bet He knows you, He knows you pal.

But He’d most likely air,

“Alright!

But you’re being redundant daughter.

You kept saying that prayer for your friend.”

Verily, I would answer,

“Forgive me for the anaphora, Father.

I’m too elated for my answered prayer.”

Poetry · Writing True

Death Who?

AinaBalagtasLeave a comment

Updated February 22, 2024, 11:40 HST

Who is death?

Why many is afraid of him?

Is he the boogey boo

Or the big foot whom we frighten ourselves—

As kids—if we don’t sleep at noon?

Who is death?

Why no one can tell where is he from?

Is he a republican or democrat?

What is his ideology?

Election time, shouldn’t we need to know?

Who is death?

Why no one wants to meet him?

Why even the notorious criminals

are shaken to hear his. . . in verdicts and sentencing?

We live avoiding him all our lives, mean.

All I know, when I meet death,

I’d get to see and touch God’s face.

Poetry · Writing True

You Never Know

AinaBalagtas3 Comments

I think the earth is not perfectly round.

It may have dings and dints,

Or disfigured and defaced—

Who knows?

Being over four-billion-year-old—

You never know.

I think all of us have someone watching over us.

There’s Google and traffic cams,

Webcams and satellite cams and more—

Who knows?

We’re never alone. . . there are dust mites and fairyfies—

You never know.

I think there are angels amongst us.

With our without wings,

they might be with us here—

Who knows?

They might be walking and mingling; even social networking and doing good—

You never know.

Poetry

“XVII

AinaBalagtasLeave a comment

“I never saw a moor,

I never saw the sea;

Yet I know how the heather looks,

And what a wave must be. 

I never spoke with God,

Nor visited in heaven;

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given.”

Excerpt From
The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson
.

Creative · Love · Poetry

Nostalgia

AinaBalagtasLeave a comment

As a sonata is softly playing,

special memories are coming back

of a sterling night

at the shore of Waikiki

under the serene moon

and sparkling stars:

The slushing of waves above the moonlighted sea,

The fast beating of our hearts,

The so secretive murmurings,

The decadent lips sharing honey,

The sinuous touches strumming magic

To two aching bodies in paradise;

of two longing souls reaching heaven on earth

in such a sweet discourse.

Recommended Song:

It’s Just a Love Song

by Walter Murphy

Creative · Poetry · Prose · Sentiments

I So Do, Spring

AinaBalagtasLeave a comment
Painted December 11, 2022

I so think of you, Spring:

When winds are gentle as feathers

And the sun is mostly present.

I so think of you, Spring:

When woods are warming

And leaves are cool in green.

I so think of you, Spring:

When wilderness are humming,

And thick coats and heavy jackets are retiring.

Just so you know,

The blanket is not warm enough

To stop my longing for you, Spring.

If winter is a song,

Guaranteed, I’d fast forward it

Right after the very last firework.

Inspirational · Poetry · Writing True

Hope

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A day without hope is gloomy:

Darkness permeates the heart

and brings doom in mind.

It weakens the spirit

that not even a leaf is light enough for the burdened soul.

When sun’s a bay;

Someone is surely in dismay.

For hope is a thing of light;

The very essence of dawn,

The happy Casper of dusk whispers “tag along.”

In trio with faith and love—

Thou shall not doubt.

Poetry · Writing True

These Stubborn Images

AinaBalagtasLeave a comment
Just as the beauty of flowers is at the mercy of time, and so is love

. . . Of the poems we exchanged, which were so filled of longing and warmth,

Of the songs we sang, which brought our souls in harmony,

Of the text we sent, which were always followed by kissing and heart emojis,

Of our sweet dreams and pinky-sealed promises,

Of our refreshing laughter and silly moments,

Even our burning tears and daunting fears. . . .

How can memories be so sharp and piercing?

My eyes are burnin’,

Chopped onions must be somewhere around,

Somewhere.

YouTube/Frank Sinatra/As Time Goes By