M A K A T A
Nov-Dec 2001
Issue No.11/12

A SNUFF POEM As unstoppable self-flensing fruit, arrogance has snuffed out life, embroiled dismemberment in dust, splayed iron girders soft on footpaths too rumpled to dig through for lost carcasses. Twice in thunder, and again, replayed a million times over, that curved flight making me lean in my seat and impact, repeated frame by flickering flame. Born of the bloody grit of desert war, this smoke-screened tragedy (hard-heart you see there is death in this) winged to visit sudden devastation on the world thundered past as quickly as the boarding pass that wandered past hands slow in prayer, and gone like Jonathon Seagull through a cliff onto another plane, through another building's face. About the Author Averil Bones lives in Sydney, Australia. She lists nature, and the ocean in particular, amongst her greatest influences, and spends her leisure time counting her blessings, trying to maintain an active interest in environmental matters. Ode To Moon Moon (the concubine of Blue Man) is a passive woman Of extreme perseverance and gentleness who makes love With me when her sister Sun is gone and when her husband is asleep. Her mother is the battered Mistress of Orion, Miss Universe; the woman who Has slept with all the heavenly bodies and has been fooled by men . Her sister is the irritable And torrid sun, the favourite Wife of the Blue Man. Unlike her sister, she is calm. Sweltering and agitation don’t exist in Her vocabulary. She was never the symbol of life. It was her sister’s. That’s why Blue Man prefers Sun. She is a symbol of death, mystery and supernatural things And usually accompanied by her eerie friends Like the Strega in Italy and Aling Manananggal. The only nice things that she signifies are bright festivals and parties The first time that adolescents would loose their innocence, The first kisses, the honeymoon and romantic moments by the shore or on land. Moon is a weak woman. Unlike her sister who owns flaming and burning lights, She borrows some lights so that Blue Man could see her when they make love. I think Moon is nicer than her sister. Sun, during her turn to stay with Blue Man, is always alone Because she never let any other being near her husband. On the other hand, Moon is always accompanied By her creepy friends and his galactic secret lovers- The stars, comets, meteors, asteroids and other planets. Together with her friends, they witness The wonders of her governance that her sister can’t perform. Unfortunately, Blue Man is already asleep and was never interested. What I liked most about her is the way she Says goodbye to me every time her sister Wakes up from her slumber. She would still hold on up to Eight in the morning and wait for me Over a Tuscan hill. She would say goodbye to me and say, “I’ll be back again tonight my love, and I’ll always be there for you and we’ll make love again until the last moment of our existence.” About the Author Charles Carpio is a student from Florence, Italy. AWIT NG LIMOT Sa saliw ng lumang tugtugin, bawat patak ng ula'y lunod ang mga mantsa ng lipas na-- pansamantala. Parang duyan sa kawalan, aluin sa gitna ng kalungkutan. Himig ng limot sa magulong sayaw ng buhay- kanlungan sa bawa't hagupit ng kawalang-katarungan. Awit, awit wala mang tinig, kublian mula sa hapdi ng araw habang hinihintay ang lunas ng takipsilim at tangan nitong katahimikan. Lumang tugtugin paulit-ulit habang ang kandila'y di pa upos. © Grey VIOLENCE TO THE BLOOD Any person that doeth violence to another person; the culprit shall flee to the fiery pit shall fell the wrath that God will remit Whenever there is a terrorist attack, a fatal hit So much hatred, anger, and violence terrorist did submit On American soil, on a trade and financial outfit That damned the soul of the offender with no spiritual benefit For their hearts aren't pure, of God but counterfeit ~Proverbs 28:1~ A man that doeth violence to the blood of any person shall flee to the pit; let no man stay him. RISING VIOLENCE http://www.postpoems.com/members/mnfoxx/ Violence is risen up into a rod of wickedness Violence has risen up by Terrorist of death, devastation and distress Who are filled with hatred and anger; Satan they possess Many lives turned upside down The World Trade Center a collapsed mess All of those affected Let the Almighty comfort you with a loving caress From me to you: God Bless! ~Ezekiel 7:11~ Violence is risen up into a rod of wickedness: none of them shall remain, nor of their multitude, nor of any of theirs: neither shall there be wailing for them. About the Author Working for the federal government, and a single female. I'm a poet. I have no kids and I love writing poetry. I also like editing. I have a BA in Finance and some graduate courses under my belt. My favorite color is red and my favorite foods are West Indian food and soul food. My favorite music is reggae. I was born in Washington D.C., but raised in Atlanta, GA. I Will Mourn The Day I will mourn the day When my heart ceases to love When it will only beat Because I have to live When I see trees in green And don't wonder anymore the shades The shelter they give to those beneath Like mothers to their kids' caress I will mourn the day When only my mind will dictate Everything without consulting What my troubled heart is longing When I see the distant sun at its peak And just shrug off and complain why it's so hot Never anymore thinking the beauty it gives After a long and seemed to be a never ending rain I will mourn the day When my wanderings are kept in a circle No directions and no end No horizons for my rainbows to bend When I see the flowers bloom And accepting because it's spring But don't care much to save in winter Or dry them in a small box for souvenir I will mourn the day When I will just see you as a friend Trying hard to forget those times we shared And the love that we once dared About the Author Ronnie Ocate is one of the in-house poets of Makata. Visit own website at www.geocities.com/katz649 to read more of his works. Poetry In Motion through the hazy darkness we drift into deep mystery and found God deeper in our hearts. Autumn Fragments the autumn leaves are falling once again they die only to be reborn. Poetry in Motion 11 the moon seems awake with tingling fire the stars are out we found love and peace that last beyond time. Balang Araw Balang araw Kung ang sugat ng puso ko'y naghilom na Kung ang luha sa mata ko ay tuyo na Kung ang lahat ng aking kahangalan ay tapos na Babalikan ko Isang kahapong naglaho na Upang muli at muling namnamin Ang tamis at hapdi ng unang pag-ibig Na sa puso ay naghari kinuyom sa dibdib At inalagaan ng maraming mga taon. Ikaw ang pinakamagandang bahagi ng kahapong iyon, Kuya Romy Katulad ng buwan Na abot ng tanaw Ngunit hindi mahawakan Ikaw ang mga patak ng ulan sa tag-araw Na nagbigay kulay Dito sa aking buhay. Haharapin mo ang bukas Gaano man iyon kadilim! About the Author Shirley Cahayom is from OceanView Ave. Brooklyn, New York. She is one of the in-house poets of Dalityapi. makata 2001 january february march april may june july august september october nov-dec