The breeze blows onto my face again As I sit down and write this all out. The youth playing around—flying kites, riding bikes… Such a soothing sight, relaxing my nerves. The sun is setting, the neighbours are outgoing, Reeling in the last moments of daylight. Sounds of chatter, broomsticks, machines… Flooding the neighbourhood with life once again. Tunes of various kinds of music from afar, Some karaoke played along, some party! No more madness for the meantime here… Restoration efforts finally bearing fruit. No more buzzes or choruses of generators; Just my fellowmen walking around and chilling. Biking—bells played, pedals pushed… Sweet thrill of exercise and travel in one go. Black birds standing on a pole wire, secured, Wandering about without a care in the world. Doesn’t it feel great to see a spectacle like this, Back to life before the shock of Rai, Odette?
Kiddos in the Grasslands by MaxDomRenOro, literature
Literature
Kiddos in the Grasslands
A long day, cool breeze The view of the outside world. It’s lively, so fresh… The noise of joyful chatter Rings my ears with refreshment. Sight from the distance, The youngsters play around here. Such simplicity; The sports of everyday life… Not too extreme; just chilling. The peeps having fun Playing and running around. Most of them young kids Playing ball and chasing games; Some of them just sitting down. Life of the chatter, The spirit of sweet contact. It feels refreshing To see kiddos play freely, Relaxing and bonding here. Sunny with a breeze… Kites flown, gatherings active. I smile at the sight… Feels great to witness grasslands Filled with joyful energy. Grassland animals Hanging around, taking walks. Active sign of life When children wander around, Playing and doing their thing. Here’s the flight of kites Across the sky, gliding heights. And the games they play… Volleyball, patintero, And batuhan ng bola. Laro ng lahi… Cebuano youth delight. All traditional Is the fun
Sight from a distance As early as the evening Comes the blobs of light. Seen all around me, Resurgence of energy… Coming full circle. Blobs of village lights, Combined with the city lights… It’s a slow return. Yes, lights have returned, Accompanied by the sounds Of changing music. This month’s church music… It’s still lingering after Sinulog parties. The neighbourhood lights… All good, coming back alive; Power has returned. No more nuisances… Absence of generators, No more choruses. Hopeful me, lights up! Visayas and Mindanao… Slow rising, lights up!
I. Where most lights are off, Bathed in the glow of the moon. A total blackout Reigning in the aftermath Of the storm’s temper tantrum. II. Where I walk down here, Nothing but the glow—moonlight. Feels rather lonely Down here, with only myself And my shadow to walk with. III. Subtlety, no breeze… Feels rather warm here, outside. Clear skies with some clouds As my land is soaked in light, The moon’s shine filling the void. IV. I’m lonely, that’s true… But I do enjoy the light. Natural moonlight… Just for once, this kind of peace Without the shining post lights. V. I may be lonely, But I bask in the moonlight. Just one of those nights, Without power for this time, Serenity with the moon. VI. My shadow and I, Walking hand in hand tonight. Short gaze at the moon, Relishing in its white glow; No need for shining post lights. VII. Under the darkness In the cyclone’s aftermath, The joy and sorrow Surrounding my atmosphere, The bitter afterglow, sigh… VIII. In such a dark place With
I. Fumes of cries and pleas… Humanity is shaken, Under the rubble. II. Metal, props, trees, glass… All scattered about, breaking Under the cyclone. III. The warning systems… Signals go out here and there, Arrival ahead. IV. Power interrupts… Comms and receptions cut off, Tampered by the storm. V. War has just begun. Windows, roofs, doors, props, metals Versus sustained winds. VI. Glass-breaking crashes, Uprooted trees, displacement… The storm is winning. VII. Brace for sustained winds… I fear that I may get hit. Need be vigilant! VIII. Debris gatecrashing, Such power overwhelming… All in disarray. IX. Feels like the earth moves, Shaken by the warning storm… Such calamity! X. The velocity… A Christmas catastrophe, Bitter parting gift. XI. Death tolls, damages… Amassing the funds too grand, Humanity’s cries. XII. Names too dangerous, Trauma takes residence here… Those two names—no more!
I see everywhere
An influx of dominance…
Earth is everywhere.
My feet, standing on the ground…
A feeling of dryness, yes.
Oh, what has happened?
Where have you gone, dearest blue?
Oh, what suffering
Such that you have been exiled,
Trodden down by the mud slides.
Oh, how they did this
To your beautiful stature…
Did it with no mercy…
Only for urban matters,
And not for the open green.
The cold blue I love…
Please come back to the wildlands.
The greens need your love…
They want your delicacy.
You satisfy their hunger.
Oh, why they hurt you…
Took away your breath of life,
Trampled by the blocks,
Crush
every mile marker is a wake
of someone's fur, hair and bones:
the tar of blood paves new roads.
when the crow's laugh tolls,
roadside daisies nod in respect
as vultures overhead mark the dead.
whitetail deer turn passerby eyes,
nibbling on skeletons of friends and foes
while coyotes lurk in loblolly shadows.
the blood of an opposum bakes,
his sunday smile dead under summer skies:
virginia car hymns can't lift him high.
the rabbit of greenbriar grave by Koahara, literature
Literature
the rabbit of greenbriar grave
I intend to die underneath his greenbriar thicket,
though I have not made it that far
because I have stopped in a meadow
of birdfoot violets and field pansies,
surrounded by wood sorrels and blackgums.
I left my brother somewhere to fend for himself
higher up this cragged mountain,
near bright laurels and wiry hawthorns,
below hearty Carolina hemlocks and towering pines.
I am followed by the shadow of a man
who bears black gloves and a quiet voice
as he inspects me who lay still
in a stupor of fever and fear.
He places his fingers between my long ears
to bid, on behalf of his yard, a final farewell
to me and to the botfly I shield from n