In the blazing heat
of a Middle eastern sun
he toils for hours
away from his family -
young daughters and wife
loved from a distance.
Birthdays came and birthdays went
ten years had gone by
hugs and kisses were given
through their Facebook posts
accompanied by pictures
with happy faces
concealing their longing hearts.
Each bear the sadness
for dreams of a better life -
for the girls, now young women
providing simple pleasures
and good memories
as he can give from afar.
He waits and he works
his hopes in the desert sands
to be home at last
with virtual presence
each moment it's possible
'til no screen is between them.
Thanks to Gayle’s Dverse prompt – The Choka – I am glad to finally break a blogless spell. Lack of time (to think, writer, and visit blogs) and inspiration kept me away for weeks. I do not know how often I can post with school resuming and a needy baby starting to walk, but I hope to keep this page and friendships alive somehow. Ah, my belated wishes for a happy and wonderful new year to all of you.
The inspiration for this piece is a cousin who now works in Israel and has not visited his family for a long time. The title, OFW, means Overseas Filipino Worker which the Philippines, due to her economic situation, has plenty of.
Meanwhile, the Choka, according to Gayle, is a Japanese form poetry that tells a story. It has an indefinite number of lines but the lines alternate between 5 and 7 syllables. The poem ends with an extra seven syllable line. For more of Choka, please visit the link above.
The sun retires at 4 o’clock in this part of the world up north
The branches, shorn of leaves, sport some snow for a new winter coat
Forgotten apples, still crisp, shiver in the November sky
And those who neither reap nor sow can feast just like you and I.
At six o’clock it still dim, oh! how the sun takes its time to rise
Well, who will want to play out in the yard that’s slowly turning to ice?
Except perhaps for those chipmunks foraging the woods for some nuts
And, chittering, store them away in some hole in the tree trunk.
I’m the last leaf in the tree
why was I chosen to be alone
where’s the joy
in mornings getting colder and darker
or in robin’s songs
getting fainter and fainter
That I’m a survivor
when each breath
only delays the inevitable
I want to hear Silence
winding its way in the crowd
picking up the noise
and zipping them in his bag.
I would like to hear him sing
in the treetops and on the ground
accompanied only by birds
carrying their rhythm
to the clouds.
I would love Silence
to sit with me on the bench
tell me stories I'll never hear
while the children screamed
and the world bickered.
It's a lovely day when Silence visits
and wraps me in his embrace
that bathes me in tranquil currents
quickening my heartbeat
to the softness of a flower's breath
or the glorious voice of God
indwelling in my soul.
DVERSE's POETS PUB Open Link Night
Toys sit in the bins in disarray, moldy and sad
the hands that caressed them are never around
the mind that send them to wondrous tours
no longer turned nor propelled their gears
The tracks have been broken
there are no more tickets to neverland
Toys and child have reached that most dreaded time -
the autumn of childhood has arrived
adventures that only imagination unlocked
have now been banished to the clouds
with a child-man's sneer and some derision
Oh how quickly the little boy has grown
but while he forgets his little boy dreams
they will ever be kept by the toys in the bin.