Numbers

numbers

Down the creaky, wooden steps
Thirteen seconds long
Around the corner at the end of the hall
Through the doorway
Eight feet tall

Trod along the dusty sidewalk
Five song long
Across the street at the light
Under the lamppost
Twenty feet’s height

Pass the noisy, crowded market
Billboards fifty feet long
After the woman selling fake gold
Around the street urchin
Six years old

Stand in a line along the wall
Nineteen persons long
Pass the guard and through the gate
Arrive at school
Just three minutes late!

I remember walking to elementary school every morning when I lived in the Philippines.  For me, it seems like it was a very long walk.  I lived in the city and so I passed by many things along the way.  I don’t think I ever disliked it walking to school.  My mom took me, of course.  But in reality, the walk was probably no that far.

While some of the things I mentioned in this poem are made up, others, such as street urchins, the markets, billboards, and streetlights were real.  There was even an overpass, kids inhaling drugs, jaywalkers, people washing their clothes and dishes on the sidewalks, and other goings-on that you’d only see in the Philippines.

No matter how long, short, busy, dangerous, or tiresome it might have been, though, I always have good feelings when I remember those days – walking to and from school, every day…

My Tree

image

Not too dark
Not too bright
Here there is
Just enough light

When the sky
Is over pouring
Here it’s just
Slightly soaking

If the wind
Is whooshing outside
Here the breeze
Is very mild

Gentle rustlings
Above and below
And the rays of the sun
Perform a show

Calm thoughts
Gather here
Where birdsongs
Are always near

Time stops
Worries fade
I love it here
Under the shade

(of)

My tree.

Water Drop

A dew!
A dew!
I noticed a dew
forming on a leaf
this morning.
I looked from the bottom,
it’s color was blue.
I looked from the top,
it’s color was green.
Then against the sun I saw
inside it held a rainbow.
I breathed too close
and it slid.
The leaf bent just a little
to let it glide.
For a second it held on
to the tip of the leaf
before…
Adieu!
Adieu!
It splashed to the ground.

Bicycle

There’s a different sort of feeling
you get when riding a bike
an unreproducible feeling
that seems to like
to take hold of your soul
in order to free it
from being stuck on the soil
full of garbage and dirt
No, those two wheels of gold
can fly far away
where the clouds grow old
and it’s always day
the wind feels chilly
and a little bit sweet
and you can be silly
and pedal at a leisurely beat.