The Joy of Lovemaking
The mind’s flight eases the body
As it heats up every sensual parts
Then the craving begins to defy
The makings of a nurtured mind
To explore, it’s a jungle out there
Anyone can mimic a tiger’s roar
So when the gate opens, let it in
For the best of it has yet to come.
When flesh’s endurance encased
Its motions could make one flies
If there is heaven, it is here now
But its beauty won’t last forever
So take its desirous contemplation
To the uppermost level of ecstasy
If one prefers it as the “7th heaven”
Let there be till their flight is over
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Love is My Money
Love or Money raises a question in mind
But I’d be a fool to give up money for love
For I was born in the center of love by poor
Whom to pay back only my love not money
Some says: “money cannot buy happiness”
But I remembered when I was a little boy
Ma gave me a nickel out from her purse
To buy a candy that made me jumped of joy
Love or Money still raises a question in mind
Yet I’ll still be a fool to give up money for love
For I am now an old man in the center of love
Paying high interest to whom I owed their hugs
Others say: “money cannot buy happiness”
But I recall when I bought a ring for my fiancée
And the smile on her face made me too happy
So now without her love I would be broke
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Riddle
I cut my life in to pieces
Of light and deeper curves
In numbers and shapes mixed within
The mystery of my own color
In this five by seven of me
A heart where mother lived
Seven years after I was born
It’s still torn and abandoned
The green valley of rice and corn
I’m 3rd and 7th of 8 grains
To see a sky above the fluffy clouds
To the land of black, yellow, and white
My “shoes-lady’s land” wasn’t my dream
To watch the Ford- Rockefeller’s ending time
Yet my fate lies onto the stripes of red and white
In the 31st of its 50 stars
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Tomorrow
Bring me in to the world full of wisdom,
As I sit here to ponder how I’d become.
OH! It is such a little knowledge, I would be lost;
So teach me of what you know – skills of no cost.
For I was born and raised by the hands of poverty –
Callused by dirt and mud in the farm of lesser dignity;
Mother! Where were you when I was young?
Your death made me crave to crossroads of unknown.
Father! My hands are too small yet how can I help you;
Or am I too short for a man to work like you?
Siblings of my older blood who oozed away from me,
Come and reach me! Here, I can’t find my way.
For I’m naught today and future isn’t it tomorrow,
In “War of Knowledge, ” where! ...Where else can I go?
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Ex-Lover Met in FB: The Wicked Truth
Snippets of doubt, one cannot reason
Trust, when once betrayed, it’s lost
That each lies only led to suspicion
And jealousy pushes love to the edge
Love that is hard to define
By honesty and truthfulness
Of not knowing when it will last
How it will end or how it will die
Love that is a gamble of reason
Through marriage and risk of vows
Between faithfulness and infidelity
That no one knows who’ll win or lose
Love that can’t always be perfect
When at times it turns into hate
And all its sweet words become bitter
To sharpen tongues to cut both ways
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Victims
Who are those that stand by the pillars
Of stop signs or in front of liquor stores?
Are they the forgotten heroes who were once
Served and sent to wars for this country?
Or, are they the victims of social users incense
Of illegal drugs, alcohol, or sex for money?
Who are they?
Are they the victims of our country's economy,
Who lost their jobs outsourced by their company?
Or, are they the victims of love losing their sanity
By rape, battery, or purely the victims of poverty?
Who are they?
That I can no longer pull change from my coin tray;
That I can no longer look at them with eye to eye;
That I can no longer put faith or minute of honesty;
For I was also their victim of their luscious trickery.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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When Hope Lost From Its Matter
Years of toiling, hope lost from its matter
Dim of acceptance, it has same question
Where is God? Some do not understand
That faith raises those callused hands
In the vein of the wind – where God is –
The light of life from beginning to end
Yet the envious pose like stormy wind
In the bereft of life as truth un-seized
Fate comes in every cycle of time
As a soft touch to the blessed ones
Or the fearless shall fear of its strength
Like rippled leaves re-laid on the ground
With hope, through redemption of spring,
Yet no autumn leaf has risen to trees
Than embedded branch full of promises
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Today
Today
I rise upon the call of the sun
Like fire burning my skin
My soul of guilt
Whom I have done wrong
To forgive me
Today
I rise upon the call of the sun
Like fire giving me life to live
Another life
Another moment
To face what is present
And what is next
Today
As I look upon the road of reality
To differ the past and future
Like autumn leaves on the ground
Seeds to be reborn
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Another Excuse! Another Lie!
I dreamt of Utopia,
Where I loved my neighbor’s wife –
Tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, and more
– Her Vegetarians’ Paradise
Like Monet’s work, the sun effuses
To Minnie Pearl in this night of my version
With Snoopy sniffing Charlotte
Hiding behind the chute
As Motrin’s working on this arthritis
Pain eased into night of my oblivion
That every now and then, I heard me snoring
As I soared inside the plane
It’s Casper wrapped-up in the clouds
Watching Pearl husked tamales’ wrap
And from the aisle of yellow corns
Henry’s tractor whistling its horn
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Hands of Fathers and Sons
Full from the heart without a sealant of coy,
Five little fingers curled to daddy's thumb,
To his lips in render of his unmeasured joy,
A kiss of truth that only father could add up.
Full of strength without defiance of charm,
Now bigger fingers grapple to daddy's arm,
To his balding head tap by surprising defeat,
Sense of truth that son to father's no threat.
Full of love but without resistance of shame,
Two open hands locked to weakening frame,
That was once so gentle and fragile to hold,
The etymon of truth, future is now foretold.
That long before he's the son; he's the father,
With same name to carry, write, and spell,
Either left or right, these hands will not falter,
Their strength to give and care is their will.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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