Tomorrow the Sun

(Image from Billfrymire.com)

Storms send out warning
of dark clouds and drizzle
ahead of wind, rain, death

Tremors don’t
But the dogs howling
at ghosts; birds flying
into windows, walls

Songs crash into words
Breaking stride, crushing dew
Fear in faces, stuck in place
Feet turn to stone

Leaden the dead
Spread the news
The world ends anew
Tomorrow the sun

One Day that Shook My World

(Image from 30.media.tumblr.com, Joe Strummer, Earthquake Weather)

Give me the shakes

shake and bake

run for the hills

Oops! This is uphill

The fool who lives this high

has nowhere to go but down

Can’t go out without a sigh

Cry and look like a clown

Call and text

Shoot your load

No more sex

Forget that broad

Holy book this, holy book that

Catch the last train on track

Sing His praises

Get high on smack

If the world ends today

Buy that last happy meal

Here’s a toast, don’t stray

My God is right, hooray!

I was in Love with Margaret Salinger

(Image from Media.smashingmagazine.com)

I was in love with Margaret Salinger

J.D. would have not approved

But he normally didn't care

So the coast is clear of doting father

Beyond pretty, Meg is a gem

She’s smart, got her father’s genes

She’s pretty, her mother is the same

Her parents split, what a shame

Margaret was her daddy’s little girl

They watched classic movies on reel

Amidst the New England woods

Fairy-tale setting, ideal for moods

Imagine Meg growing up to be Margaret

Went to college, worked as a mechanic

Jerome David could have made it easier

For her to earn a diploma, plus money for beer

But, no, daddy loved his isolation

Her daughter’s desolation forced her

To find a man of his image, futile

She hated him like Plath hated Hitler

The dream catcher wasn’t much help

All it did was give a catchy title

For a book like Mommie Dearest

With daddy stepping in for the beast

Sure, J.D.’s lover came out with her own tell-all

You can’t blame Joyce, she will always be

A little girl whining about the world

Making a living on bones in her wallet

But how could Meg do a Joyce?

Get back at an absentee daddy?

Get royalties for a book well done

Even if it hurts her as much as it did J.D.?

Should anyone care as long as we get to read

A book as fun as a day on the beach

A whale struck by a bus

A train crashing into a truck

Meg turned out OK

She married, got kids

She looks happy on the Web

She’s a Christian minister

I write this down using Courier New font

Ten-point-five points small

A boy turning fifty

Throwing rhymes, so nifty

Stories High

(Image from http:1.bp.blogspot.com)

Stories are told in ways
As numerous as heroes’ names
Sizes various as egos wandering

The best storytellers are mothers weaving tall tales
To children who imbibed their milk
In soothing tones of silenced cries, cooing contentment

The saddest sight is a widower
Who whistles in the lonely afternoon
Against the wind, sees his wife in whirlpools of dust

The happiest sound is a bird chirping
Who knows not it has wings
But sees people shuffle their feet

Attempts at Translating Neruda

(Image from fc06.deviantart.net)

An Attempt at Translating Pablo Neruda's 'Soneto XI'
from the Cebuano from the English

I yearn for your lips, your voice, your hair
Quiet, famished, I stalk the streets
Bread cannot sate my hunger, dawn intrudes
Throughout the day I search for water measuring your steps

I hunger for your slippery laughter
Your hands the hue of fierce reaping
I hunger for the pale pebbles of your fingernails
I want to consume your skin like an almond whole

I want to eat the sunshine ablaze in your body beautiful
The queenly nose on your haughty face
Desiring to consume the passing gloom of your eyelashes

I lie in wait ravenous, breathing in the twilight
Hounding you, for the warmth of your heart
Like a cougar on Quitratue’s wastelands

Sulay nga Paghubad sa Kang Pablo Neruda nga 'Soneto XI' Guikan sa Iningles nga Guikan sa Kinatsila

Gipangandoy ko ang imong ngabil,
imong tingog, imong buhok,
Hilom ug gutom, gaukoy ako sa mga kadalanan,
Ang pan dili makabusog kanako, gibalda ako sa kadlawon,
Tibuok adlaw gipangayam ko ang tubig nga sukod
sa imong mga lakang

Gigutom ako sa mimis mo nga katawa,
ang imong mga kamot nga bulok,
Sama sa usa ka bangis nga ani,
Gigutom sa mga luspad nga bato sa imong mga kuko,
Buot ko nga kaunon ang imong panit
sama sa usa ka tibuok nga almendro

Buot ko nga kaunon ang bidlisiw nga gasiga
sa imong matahum nga lawas,
Ang maraynahon nga ilong sa imong mapahitas-on
nga nawong,
Buot ko nga kaunon ang lumalabay'ng landong
sa imong mga pilok,

Ug galakat-lakat ako nga gutom, gasimhot sa salumsom,
Nangayam kanimo, alang sa imong kasing-kasing,
Sama sa usa ka puma sa pagawpaw sa Quitratue.

Pablo Neruda's Spanish text for 'Soneto XI'