February Poems

“Shades” by Armineonila “Ila” M.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Depth of Field

by Tammy Sulit

 

The picturesque visual blurring at the background

Will have its moment to own;

When focus is not anymore spotted

At the apple of the eye alone.

 

Beauty can wait for time,

Since true of its kind is priceless;

When the apple of the eye is gone,

Still real beauty remains endless.

 

Human eyes view err,

Capturing shallow subjects;

But when art is stitched to the soul,

You’ll know the beauty which has value like gold.

 

 ~o~

 

Homeland

by Mujel Hasan

 

Seven thousand and a hundred plus islands,

Floating like emeralds on seas and oceans;

Conquerors saw our abundance,

But our heroes never abandon our lands!

 

Our roots spring from the Malayans,

Inherently mystique and unique;

United by strong spirits that stick,

One soul in words, minds, and deeds!

 

My land is a haven for all,

Though mired by abusive political structure;

And dampened sometimes by the wrath of nature,

Yet, smiling, rising up and standing tall!

 

I may work and stay in far off places,

Where my fantasy chases;

However hard, reasonless, and offhand,

I still return, in the end, to my homeland!

 

~o~

 

Has-been

by GAP Gutierrez

 

I once wore the coat and arms

of pride and flame.

I fought wars.

Against my enemies.

Someone else’s war.

And even with my own self.

Now, I just take the spits and blows with a shrug and smile.

The truth is… I’m tired and spent.

 

I let go of my identity.

And drowned in the mainstream.

 

I remember, before, I knew my own handwriting.

But “A” is for “Apple”.

We don’t produce apples.

So I did the logical thing to do.

I changed how I write my word.

 

Electric gossip and melodrama help me speed up the time.

Everything is moving fast. I don’t have time to think for myself.

Hell! I don’t even have time to think about my thoughts.

Thinking will only bring the demons from the trenches.

 

I am a patriot and a sell-out.

My being was a fragment of everyone’s soul.

Stitched together by my will.

To survive but not to live.

I spend my liberty.

Like it will never exhaust.

 

~o~

 

My First Poem

by Ellen Alliah Tabaya (LenzKie)

 

I’m glad

I’m the one,

in you

I always stand;

the pen in my hand

is writing into sand.

 

The first time

I write

too short a poem,

I added some words,

let you right my work.

 

It’s not easy to reckon,

for me, everything seems

hard because of you,

I made a poem

perfect.

 

Time to keep

writing my heart

that’s pumping

for my next poem,

So you can say:

Yes, you did it!

 

~o~

TFM_Kuwait_Feb_2014

 

 

Published:   TFM-The Filipino Magazine in Kuwait. Kuwait: Alpha Solutions Advertising,  February 2014. p. 21.

 

 

 

~o~

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