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Daily Selected Poems : Mildred De Joya Par

Mildred De Joya Par   |   Friday, 31 December 2021 | Print

Daily Selected Poems : Mildred De Joya Par


A Peep on the Need for Sleep


we owe ourselves
a much needed sleep.
be it a short nap during the day
or a slumber in the afternoon
or because it is the end
of a long, tiring day.
We die momentarily in our lives
and live again
with the start of a new day.
We also sleep as our body
needs to awaken
and repair its loose self.
We sleep to replenish the energy lost
in our waking moments.
We sleep coz it binds us to the spirit world
where we are all connected.
We sleep to restart from our blunders and mistakes.
We sleep coz i need to see you, my friend,
in a dimension all our own.
no one to judge us.
no violation of mores,
which i call, dream.
Most of all, we are called in
a moment of unity with our Lord
so the next day we would seem
fresh, renewed, and revived from within.
We sleep just to wake up
to the reality which is tiring
and energy is sapped.
a little more, saving up
to live a life a little longer
and better.

Et Cetera

Oftentimes, I work.
I hate to be idle.
Coz it gives me time
to think of trivialities.
to think of you.
It’s counter productive.
I lose my objective.
I lose my goal.
I lose myself.
However, I guess
the mundane things
are what comprises
my time and more.
I dare not bother
the people around.
Nor be bothered
by et cetera.
Et cetera
and others
and the rest.
excess baggage.
You are et cetera.
You fill each void
You fill each need
You fill each space
You fill my whole life.
I guess I can’t live
without my etcetera.
Will You Set Me Free?
You spoke in codes and anagrams
As well as in riddles and epigrams
How can I decode much to my mind
When in doubt my mind was bound?
Such a posh and elevated eloquence
But how can we both be in congruence
When in our history, we’re full of decadence
We are both victim of love’s circumstance.
Shall I rejoice for the rising sun or its alliance
Or teary eyed in the silence of the setting sun?
I’m weak at the heart and wobbly at the knees
Can you please be nice, break it to me gently?
I am much weak, i hope it’s about my wish
Nothing much will change I will promise
I will never run out of patience for your antics
Be sure to get much honey of my madness.
But please, can we call a spade a spade
Coz i really do not want to get jaded
I will lend you all ears, just tell me…
What do you think, will you set me free?


Don’t Let Her Get a Rope


I noticed your silence
Then your disheveled look
Looking far away in the distance
I talked to you and you never mind
I just wonder what’s gotten into you
You’ve always been bubbly
And naughty and very, very noisy
Then, you got bluish black bruise
All over your abdomen and legs
A burnt cigar on your skin,
Contusion on the head and your face
Now seemingly a faceless countenance
But you never dare complain
Coz your mind is groping for reasons
Why did this happen to you?
You were a doll and they, four brutes
Whose humanity were thrown away.
Four diabolical beasts, without conscience
While they mechanically screw you
Trying to make you a Barbie doll,
They played with your body parts.
Once is never enough, so they took turns
to satisfy themselves, their libidinal desires
No, they won’t and they cannot stop
Till they released their wanton weaknesses,
Then, silence… remorse was too late
To pick up pieces of the shattered self.
Where to now? Home never felt home.
Where to go? Everytime feels nightmare.
It seemed a hopeless, desolate solo flight.
Don’t you ever hold on to a rope or any devices
That seemed inviting for an easy way out.
Among other things, is the self blame
Then paranoia, … the apathy
But don’t you dare leave her alone.
She can manage; just don’t give up on her.
She’s torn and broken and shattered
But she’s alive and soon she’ll manage
With your support, soon she’ll manage
She’ll manage… like I did.*
*Rosaria, a fictitious rape victim.

Books Are Our Allies

Books are our allies
They help us get through
The loneliest of days
They speak their minds out.
They tell you their opinions.
and ideas that may challenge yours
They make you travel
even take you far places
you’ve never been.
They can take you on a tour to wonderland.
They can amuse you, give you fun and excitement.
They can puzzle you, wonder in amazement.
But mostly they have the answer to most questions
which no one can ever challenge.
Coz they are authorities.
No one can question their credibility
and validity and reliability and integrity.
They are supreme references for
any subject and even controversies.
They reign in matters of ideas and knowledge.
But however expanse their purpose might be
They might even talk deeply.
Books are magnanimous comrades,
or companions
Coz they share with me
Minds of different emotions.
Any topic at any given time
They can fill you to the brim.
So, I may say, books are boons.
Indeed, books are friends.


My pen

I am a struggling poet
less I strangle myself.
from the bleak reality
finding light in creativity
putting all my energy
in my passion for poetry
just dreaming, hoping
my writing on the wall
maybe my writing for all.
I struggle to hone my pen
before it finally breaks.
I hope to have written
my life through others
coz I’m never alone
as a dreamer we are
together as society.
so I hope to launch
a home to hone pens
for others who soon
will write their history
with their own version
of the world, I used to be
free to live, and dream.
Let this new emerging
society of arts and letters
take off as vehicle for
their flights as writers
of the world and to be
home of young man’s
dream without prejudice
or judgment nor lies
just freedom and liberty
to express themselves
with their own free minds
artistic, creative, bold,
powerful pens. I’m just
a dreamer with a pen.
So, let me begin…

The Literary Rebel


I am ready to go on the battlefield
My arm is my pen; my armour, paper
Ready to charge and battle unseen forces
Apathy, mediocrity, and idiosyncrasies.
It’s not easy, without courage, to fight
if without purpose, mission, its sad plight.
Just so to my dear readers give delight
and to them deliver fright or more to excite.
Literature is a very liberal art to which
certain cultures cannot hold, nor control
coz writers come from different worlds
So, tolerance and acceptance we must uphold.
We develop brotherhood or comrades
So as to advance on ideas in the unfolding era
but ideas may be weird or absurd sometimes
who knows the Queen will come with Corona?
To change our ways and lifestyles
Shall we stop generating new ideas?
And stay with what’s comfortable, stable?
How about being ready for a whole new reality?



Copyright@Mildred De Joya Par

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Posted 11:20 am | Friday, 31 December 2021 |

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