Genesis
The tide rises on again
when dawn comes into the sky,
for life's honeycombs are filled,
shaping tumid arc of love
that stretches and then rises.
The rise of the tide goes on
in the midst of icy dawn;
and love's arc, now like a bow,
starts dangling precariously
over
the bowl of creation.
As the tide rages and raves,
the love's arc moves back and forth,
tracing life's endless journey
through the stormy heaving sea,
filling
the bowl of creation.
And now the high tide recedes,
sea no longer billowy,
the arc slackens and drops down;
but it will come up again
to refill
the bowl of creation.
copyright@Vidal Brigoli Armamento
USA/PHILIPPINES
Answer Kept In The Cloud
Answer Kept In The Cloud
I walked above the sky
And saw me swim through it,
Near a narrow footbridge.
Soon I paused to ponder,
Stood above the water and stood in the water,
The footbridge between us.
I cast my eyes at me and the water below,
Saw my head touching sky and
Some indistinct clouds.
I smiled at me and asked,
"Hey, Brother, who are we?"
My other self below, then staring up at me,
Moved his lips as I did;
No words fell off his mouth.
Nearby, a fish swam through
a bank of floating cloud,
Which kept the answer there.
copyright@Vidal Brigoli Armamento
''GOGORIAGATE'' Loyalty
''GOGORIAGATE'' Loyalty
Some newhounds spotted an old sow
with piglets weltering in the mud.
The reporters got raunchy,
Calling the pigs filthy creatures.
When they had left, a white piglet,
partly smudged with grimy earth,
Spoke to the sow,''Mom, I'll go out
to a spring and wash myself clean.
I can't stand being called dirty.''
Wallowing some more in the mud,
the irate mother replied:
'' I warn you, honey, not to go
to any spring and wash yourself.
Accept that it's what we pigs are.
Being smirched, you're loyal to me;
For if you will clean yourself,
I suspect you'll turn spy on us.''
copyright@Vidal Brigoli Armamento
Pseudo Democracy
Pseudo Democracy
In books democracy lives,
Flaunting its beauty that soars high
For lobrows to admire it.
The books state in general terms and
Democracy is broken.
It cannot walk among the poor.
Who are kicked out by the rich from,
The game devised by them.
In its practice democracy is dictatorship,
By the group of wealthy people,
Wallowing in pretense and shrouding the truth.
The gap between the poor and the rich,
Is deep into which fairness sinks.
During the election campaign fairness demands,
Equality of candidates' social status.
Because
their true struggle to win elective positions,
Has roots fertilized by thick wads of money.
Needed in election campaign.
Without money there is defeat.
If the majority of the rich win elective seats in Congress,
The poor are misinterpreted,tearing wings of democracy.
With faulty democracy at this time,
The poor feel cowardice devour their guts,
While they fear the rule of dictatorship.
copyright@Vidal Brigoli Armamento
PHILIPPINES/USA
Message of A Poem
Message of A Poem
A subtle poem is like a sea,
having big swelling waves and great depth.
Showing some things outside you can see;
But it is hiding things underneath.
A poem may hide in its depth
things that can be dug out by intellect,
and it is any reader's delight
Once he gets the drift of the message.
In the womb of a subtle poem,
concealed in a thinly veiled secret
is wrapped in beauty
a man's wisdom
that blossoms for us to reflect.
copyright@Vidal Brigoli Armamento
POETRY 1 : POETRY 2
THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD
