The Beauty of a Mother
The beauty of a woman starts
When her womb begins to grow
The child that she'll give birth
Soon will call her, “my mother”
The beauty of a mother reigns
When her arms cradle her child
And her charm shines within
Her heart full of love and care
The beauty of mother un-fades
When her hands guide her child
In all places walking side by side
To protect her child from danger
The beauty of a mother is her brain
To teach her child to read and write
To let the child know the difference
Of what is wrong and what is right
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Wall
Wounds from nails by moving frames
Scarred its skin by perfectionist’s eye
Its peeled-paints like thousands eyelets
That no one can hide a secret from it
Like album with many pages, it unfolds
The past, the present, the future;
A listener of a dream that one holds
Or a problem that can be its torture,
Be careful of what we do for it knows
When we cry, laugh, sing, or make love,
Like a pal, it’s always there on our side
To comfort or cover us from the outside;
Day by day, let’s give its thirst for some care
Love, not a punching bag, for I dare
Its revenge is a swollen knuckle
To remind those who has no control,
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Complexities
Each one of us has a world of our own
Where this is the kingdom of perfection
Too perfect and without limitation
We keep on coming here off and on
Sometimes, round and round, we travel too far
Instinctively in an idled war
Between true and false or right and wrong
Then we stop! And these dreams were all thrown
Life is faultless in this world we each own
But we got much to learn outside its room
Known to earth that life is filled with regression
And often, the visits here are confession
Decors of desires, we spread them here
And glamour in life shows their existence
Then the richness of our dreams will wear
To ache, once more, back to our common sense
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Kids! Kids! Kids!
You're once a sperm that your father didn't waste,
Dove to your mother's egg and gave her a positive test,
Became a fetus and made her crave for nuts and coke,
In nine months pain and joy; she's quite of a joke.
Valentine's day could have been better but you dare,
A name Valentino could've been your worst nightmare;
So you thought February thirteen is a lot wiser
Of choosing us as your parents; Kevin is much nicer.
Everyday, we watch you grow, walk, and play,
And we thought of your being alone is lonely;
Eighteen months thereafter is another baby,
A premature born named Kyle Wesley.
For a princess, it's a try but a condom got applied,
‘Cause mommy says: "two is enough to drive me crazy; "
Then, all of a sudden, a tubal ligation came up in her mind,
But what can I say, it's her choice; it's her body.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Gomez's of 1970
Books on arms cradled above their waists,
Umbrellas over heads down to tireless feet,
Wearing slippers on a sun-heated street,
Here! They come as girls of the Gomez's.
Shiny-pomaded hair combed sideways,
Pens clipped between their earlobes,
Jeans' back pockets their notebooks rest,
They, too, were the boys of the Gomez's.
Believe it or not, it was a proven fact,
That rainfall was no longer a myth,
Rizals and the Rectos placed a bet on it,
If you see smile on the Principal's face.
In Room 5, Miss. A. de Guzman awaits,
To find out who's best among the bests.
In her Music, no one needed to belch,
Granting all would pass her English quiz.
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Is It Just A Friend?
Oh! I can’t think how lonely to be
Without someone who truly cares
But I know there’s always be
Someone like me to share
If you were that someone
Let me not be
Stranger in your mind
Could we be friends?
Take my hand and let me walk with you,
And feel their trembles while we are new,
Then maybe tomorrow I can’t let you go,
Or I might be out of words to say I love you
The first time we met, I thought of loving you,
But I feared that I might lose you too,
So maybe tonight I might be dreaming,
Whispering your name on my pillow,
But don’t wake me up for it makes me blue,
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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In Solitude [2nd Version to my father]
He watches the sun drifts away,
Like a friend bidding goodbye,
On a chair where grandma used to sit,
That is as old as her legs then to rock;
Then he waits for the moon to peek,
Through the woods along the creek,
But the night went quickly deep,
That sends him early to sleep;
On woven mat, he’d lay on the floor,
With hands interlocked on chest,
Saying same prayer the night before,
Asking God no more than this list:
“Oh! Dear Lord, I beg you once again,
To give me strength and no more pain,
For I am alone for this kind of life,
And it’s so sad to live without a wife;
If tomorrow, I could stand up right,
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Reincarnation
The train just passed by
Sending its trumpet abound
An airplane took off
His fearless house stood
By an old oak tree uprooted
Through years of torture
He sits gallantly
Beer and cigarette each hand
Talking to the moon
“What more in an old man’s dream than a hunch
Of his adhominem to lie upon his bed to launch
His un-chosen time if no longer a surprise when
His eyelids close and his lips locked to utter then
To see his unseen yards of wreaths where he rest
His retired body and his soul lives in sky-wide yet
To muster all things he left behind but his quest
Is incomplete, will he return to his home just like it? ”
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Opinionated Opinions
She Said
Never underrate a woman’s heart
Or other things for her that matters
Respect her rights and choices – or
Men who’d interfere
Are her greatest enemies
Collect those “so called” vital dates
Or you will hear no end of it
Make every effort to compliment
I n all aspects of what she do or have
Not her cooking, bags, or shoes
Connect when she speaks, or
A big B scripts her face
Remember she is a queen
Right or wrong she always wins
As much as a man wishes
No arguments will end
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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The Farmer and His Carabao
Sitting on a saddle-like mounted stones,
Watching the river runs gently yonder,
Wondrous, countless, tiny whirlpools,
Sublimely caught his eyes to ponder;
Alone, he sees, he hears nothing but
To himself as high as the bird flown,
To charcoaled stem of a dead tree, it sat,
Mimicked all noises if he had not known;
Under that tree, his carabao rests in a paddle,
Snorting and snoozing on his muddy cradle,
But his master came to drag him out again,
So he rose without a splash of complain.
Back and forth, he and his master worked on,
To an acre of land that this man only owned,
As they labored together, time didn’t matter,
‘Till the summons of the night ruled thereafter.
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poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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