5 posts
  • ckfilvan 12w

    #inspire #ceesreposts #soulraabta 0220503

    @miraquill @writersnetwork has been very kind to me. They notice the imperfect work of a young poet. A big thanks to them. I have won 4 so far, and 3 out of which are so personal and dear to me. And my first was a talent. You can read here #mepod

    A big thanks to you, your compliments are too high to response with a few shallow words of mine. Had you not showered your love, l would remain a phantom.

    Forgive me, I don't know how to thank you in words. I'm not good at pleasantries.

    With love,

    You can skip: my poems are not colorful
    With a vocabulary of a high school student.

    Read More

    The scent of her dishes wafted in
    And hunger bent me o'er my book,
    I could hear the kitchen clappin'
    And the swan song of my beloved cook -
    The plates are jingling, oh mama dear!
    Aren't my best thoughts 'bout you?
    And the dishes were tinkling, tinkling still
    My dream segued to a cruel call of a bell.

    I'd heard rueful howlings of April winds,
    Seen broken rainbows in the horizon,
    Sullen clouds chairing the wide heavens
    And rain giving joy to weary students;
    But why, dear child o' mine, say farewell
    When sweet time rings like temple's bell?
    It is joyful to hear the church bell ring,
    Not of the funeral's bell sadly tolling.

  • ckfilvan 12w

    #surrounding #pleiadespoem

    @heartsease @murryben

    Flame that light lanterns
    Far up in the ether
    Fuels the lover's desire
    Flowering in jealous for unison
    Fences them in a ring of fire
    Fanning the embers of heart
    Flaming with fire of love

    Thank you so much, you have been kind to a poor struggling poet @writersnetwork I am deeply moved by your love and care
    @miraquill you brought tears to my eyes, a happy tears. I wasn't expecting any more. And here you surprise me with your love.

    This is my 4th POD #mepod
    Among my favorites #filvantopz

    Read More

    Down by the stream where rushes dance
    And bushes knit close to the barn,
    I dug out a pocket knife by chance
    Buried knee-deep under the ground.

    The blade’s rusted, yet weighed heavy,
    The feel sent shivers through the spine;
    The golden handle still held its beauty,
    With dirt strewn like gold of the morning sun.

    There was no mark save the damaged tip;
    The owner must’ve held it as an egg ,
    Or engraved his lover's name upon stone.
    Heaven knows, had some blood been shed!

    The weight must be of the owner’s grief,
    Of sweet tears and smiles of his maiden;
    Or of the blood of an alleged thief,
    Or probably of a crime unpardoned.

    Somehow, I survived the night- the dream
    Sent me the next day to my mother’s lap;
    Father took it, I knew, down the stream
    Where nothing dances but rushes weep.

  • ckfilvan 19w

    0171806 #place #ceesreposts #soulraabta

    The place where I was born.

    #Where my dad, my cousins, my grandma, and a young friend have turned to dust.

    #Now that my home and my garden is owned by another man, a friend of my dad, whose son was a friend of mine I lost so early in life.

    Don't ask me much, I'm already attacked by memories so devastating @will_o_wisp @soulfulstirrings @heartsease

    Thank you so much. You are kind and haven't forgotten a young struggling poet @writersnetwork @miraquill sending my love to you

    #filvantopz #mepod my 3rd

    Read More

    Would you recognize when my face appears
    As a fading footprint of some beast,
    When I have no teeth to brighten my smile,
    Would you let them spread before me
    Your green, lush grasses and take me like before
    When we used to stare into your ragged clouds.

    I pray to permit the careless air to play with me,
    Remind the both of us how I often chased
    The shadows of the clouds it slyly set ‘em in motion.
    Allow me to laze under your shade tree
    Like you did back eons ago as I await my father
    To come home with aroma of sweat and tobacco.

    Never will I forget you—you gave me a garden,
    Birds to add life to it, and flowers for colors;
    Your rain had flirted with us in the clear puddles
    Upon the grass as we danced naked and barefoot,
    Your winter too had teased us chapping our lips
    And coaxing us to smile with her warm winter tales.

    Never will I forget you—you’d given much,
    And in turn had devoured my loved ones too;
    Yet like a child I hope to be in your good graces
    When such a time comes when my lungs fail
    To invite a whisper of breath, for old times’ sake,
    Be considerate to lay me among my loved ones.

  • ckfilvan 42w

    #time #ceesreposts #soulraabta

    Thanks for your kindness and love. You have not forgotten a drop in a sea of amazing writers @writersnetwork @miraquill
    0210508 my 2nd POD

    Tap here #filvantopz #mepod

    Read More


    I witnessed the fall, I devoured the flood,
    Beheld the first rainbow, and the Babel fall;
    I watched Abel murdered in cold blood,
    Counted casualties when war took its toll.

    A rebelling clock can't pin me on the wall
    Nor lengthy calendars can make me crawl;
    None stops my painting silver on man's hair -
    Neither riches' bribe nor orphans' prayers.

    I have been partial to none in history,
    I won't be when they write an obituary;
    You have me all when you care me not,
    When you need me most I couldn't be bought.

    When you enjoy me, I can not stay long,
    When I'm bad, I come with bad timing.
    Kill me, you'll learn nothing's more wrong -
    I gnaw iron, grind stones, and keep on flying.

  • ckfilvan 118w

    Ode to music

    There is music everywhere--in the trees,
    Where sweet notes drip from rustling leaves;
    Morning breeze carries lovely melodies,
    And the gloomy wind some sad threnodies.

    The vast sky hums pianissimos and her blues,
    By night, stars arrange notation on cosmic sheets.
    When at times the blue sky changes her hues,
    Throws tantrums and screams with angry beats

    There's a trickling conversation in the streams,
    Bass and major in the raging rivers and angry seas;
    When baritones are played in allegro,
    Who but the Lord alone can silence the choir.

    Flying strings of birds join the children's laughter,
    Echoing o'er modest village and proud towns;
    There's improper rhythm in the excited heart
    Of one who is about to make room for a beloved.

    A divine music which seraphs to a song had sung
    On the holy night when love in flesh came down,
    There's a sweet song which angels cannot sing--
    The sweet tune of salvation in majors and minors.

    A guitar to serenade, a piano to chat to,
    A violin to sob with, a flute to wet nightly pillows;
    Friends, I have fallen in love with music eons ago
    Ere I caress stringy hairs and kiss melodic lips.