Knowing

…I dreamt I saw you in the water,

And met you in the wood,

Maybe it wasn’t a dream?

Tasting your breath in the salty air,

Your timeless touch,

Carried by the wind,

Tossing my hair.

Crossing the threshold of fantasy…

Close enough to brush away the tears

From my eyes. I dance in

Your sun and let

Your river run through me.

Hands, heart, eyes raised in awe-filled wonder,

Swept up by Your grace.

 

-Gilda Patricia

 

 

Muni-Muni (I Ponder)

Does the sun muni-muni,

of moonbeams, whose cool rays,

reflect the starry night?

 

Do night skies,

no longer star struck,

muni-muni over the majesty of day,

where children laugh and play?

 

What of stifling desert breezes,

and frigid arctic air,

do they dream of switching places,

a momentary relief?

 

Does a bee ever wish,

 a flower to be, or a flower a bee;

a pollination and germination,

reversal?

 

 

I wonder how it’d be,

with no question left unanswered,

life’s mysteries unraveled?

 

 No words to write,

no dreams to dream,

or songs to sing…

 

A world without muni-muni,

at least for me.

 

-Gilda Patricia

 

Written for Word High July- 30 Beautiful Filipino Words.

Day 7- muni-muni (v.) To think deeply, to ponder.

Challenge set by A Reading Writer’s Blog, and Doodles and Scribbles.

https://areadingwritr.wordpress.com/2016/06/30/word-high-july-welcome/

Fool’s Gold

Would you only,

Know a sunrise,

If it’s golden tones,

Were real nuggets,

Of gold?

Or a rainbow,

If it’s green hues,

Were cold, hard,

Dollar bills?

 

And if a thousand,

Sand dollars,

Were strewn,

Across the beach,

Glistening in the sun,

Like silver;

Would they need to be,

Susan B. Anthony,

To catch your eye?

 

The worth,

Of the stars,

The sky,

And the sea,

Is unknown,

To one,

Who’s heart is a sieve;

Merely panning the horizon,

For some “choice”commodity.

 

Surmising the only thing,

Of value (in the world),

Is that which,

Can be bought and sold,

 Sieves out,

All the beauty,

Wonder and awe, 

From my brain,

Replacing it instead…

 

With frozen little chunks of empty lies,

A life of real worth, devoid.

 

-Gilda Patricia