Shifting Shades*

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2012-02-18T07:06:00.000-08:00

SHIFTING SHADES and IN-BETWEENS

This is my last post here...

To my blog followers and readers,
may I direct you to my blog at:

SHIFTING SHADES and IN-BETWEENS.

Dreams

2010-10-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

(Dream is cream whipped
as colored icing on sleep.)

they ingress

silently from nowhere –
my calm slumber fractured
as their flowing rhythm undulates
beyond the ripples of my breathing.

they play like (yet, unlike) a movie
boundless and dimension-devoid
streaming neither in space nor time

but in an etherless realm
with no tomorrows
and no yesterdays:
an unknown kingdom nowhere
i can perceive only in my sleep.

and when I awake –
quietly as they came

they egress.

- between
ingress and egress
is illness.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Color My World Amber

2010-09-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

(for Amber M.: No regrets. It’s her loss, not yours.)

(Her love for you, red as Sherry wine
But such was so thin as onion skin
Much obliged you were, to tow her line
Still, away she flew and left you thin.)

color my world
halfway between brown and yellow
midway between orange and tan
a lighter hue of burgundy
a darker shade of gold.

an amber-bottled pilsen
or an amber-matic pen
an amber sap of resin
or an amber glass so thin.

there’s my Amber dear as ever
someone I will always remember
halfway between friend and lover
midway between sister and brother.

when I see amber, I remember Amber.

(between
amber and Amber
is company.)

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Tower Terror 911

2010-09-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

(The World Trade Center, New York
Sept. 11, 2001, 9:23 AM, as seen on CNN)

twin towers of gleaming beauty
stand side by side in majesty
great ciphers of man’s affluence
symbols of nation’s opulence.

two airplanes of silvery wings
(early glint of morning sun brings)
streak across the skyline adrift
plummet thru each tower so swift!

fiery collapse! deadly terror!
scenic twin towers stood no more!
the tragedy of Manhattan:
man’s inhumanity to man!

(humanity
is between
comedy and tragedy.

inhumanity
is between
terror and horror.)

-between
humanity and inhumanity
is man.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Some Cyber Haikus

2010-09-05T08:09:00.000-07:00

(Inanity of Machine and Ingenuity of Man)

the keyboard obeys
my fingers’ depress-commands
letters leap from keys

words leak from cursor
my thoughts appear on white screen
as verses in black

their vibrant lines dash
to the right margin and scroll
promptly down the page

i move-click the mouse
the pointer sprints thru pixels
the printer screeches

white paper rolls out
laced with poem in bookman-black
i pause for awhile

i hear dead silence
from mute laptop and printer
dumb computer, yes

i take the paper
then read poem title, it says:
‘some cyber haikus’.

- between computer and printer is inanity.
- between thinker and writer is ingenuity.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

"Bicol Express"

2010-08-07T18:15:00.000-07:00

(Train: Bane of Bicolandia)

the train leaves daily at dusk.
majestic Mt. Mayon looms colossal
amidst vibrant rice fields,
quickly receding in the distance.
the trip (for 29 pesos), is exciting.
you arrive, the big city still snoring.
metro Manila is ten hours away.

the mighty train shudders
carrying hopes, dreams and ideals
in the tumult of the ‘70s –
when life was a lot simpler;
when dissent was muffled by Martial Law;
when a wave of rage raved, thunderous
like the steel wheels grating against the rails;
and reform radicals waged war from the hills
(cauldrons erupting like Mt. Mayon)…

today, three decades later,
the train strains, snail-paced, howling and wailing;
hauling woes, wants and wanton wishes.

wheeling wheels wane when willing wills weaken!

prosperity and progress remain elusive –
the exclusive and inclusive enclave of imperial Manila,
(now 383 pesos* and) sixteen hours away!

“bicol express”, it was!

---------------------------------------------------------------
* train fare per passenger (Legaspi City to Manila)
as of July 2003

(c) 2003 Chito L. Aguilar

In the Semi-silence of Crosses White

2010-08-04T07:42:00.000-07:00

(Black Verses on White Paper: My Full Tribute to Fallen Soldiers)

in the semi-silence of crosses white
beneath the semi-shaded field of green
skeletons of fallen heroes lie semi-forgotten.

the setting sun
(now a semi-circle on the horizon)
pays half-tribute, throws half-light
fading like the glum echoes of 21-gun salute.

in the dank niches below ground
in half-empty crypts half-full of bones
no light confers half-comfort
no sound bestows half-company
to them who gave their whole lives for cause.

no song half-sung, no poem half-spoken
no prayer half-uttered could bring them back.

after half-mast flags
after half-stated eulogies
after half-hearted sympathies
they lie half-remembered.

((( “ … because they died for all.
... because of duty's call.
... because wars take toll.” )))

who minds half-lies said?
or half-truths read?

in the name of ideology
in the pursuit of freedom
in the upholding of valor

who hears half-praises?
who heeds half-excuses

when soldiers die?

who admits fault?
who feels remorse?

but then,

who needs half-answers to half-queries?
who gives half-cares and half-worries?

as fallen soldiers lay

half-remembered, semi-forgotten...
… in the semi silence of crosses white.

- between
fault and vault
is dead soldier.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Stratford-Upon-Avon

2010-07-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

(Warwickshire, England, July 1987)

ah, behold, I see the famous place
by the bank of Avon now I stand
to perceive (at least) or find a trace
of a William Shakespeare of this land

the place of birth of the great master
upon this river a humble town
now a mecca where tourists gather
to revere the poet of grand renown

the old thatched hut where he was born
still stands on the same spot it has been
for centuries a landmark untorn
symbol of England’s poetic sheen

it is my pleasure to be among
those who saw this place of history
a great poet was here since so long
he gave the world a great poetry.

- poetry
is between
poet and poem.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

A Mother's Farewell

2010-07-16T19:03:00.000-07:00

not for long in this world I shall be
my sons and daughters grieve not for me
i have lived my life, have made my mark
now I am ready, to lose my spark

unto this world I brought forth my brood
and made so certain you all are good
during tough times I have seen you thru
cheerful moments I have shared with you

in your early years when I was strict
and I had to whip you with my stick
never forget I endured the pain
all my forfeit were to your own gain

toil and labor I did to make sure
that you may never end as failure
but for my faults in this life I live
may I now request that you forgive

when I am gone set aside your tear
be at ease and put away your fear
if I must die for now I am ill
then so be it, for it is God’s will.

- between
swaying-crib’s ark and rocking-chair’s arc
is loving-mother’s mark.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Her Daughter's Reply

2010-07-16T19:01:00.000-07:00

my dear mother, much sorrow I feel
and so I pray, to God I appeal
that He may listen and you be spared
for we do need you, who always cared

there’s no other who can take your place
and no one else who can fill your space
i am thus certain you will be missed
the best mother we have ever kissed

if I have erred or have gone astray
it does not mean I have turned away
from your tender love and caring touch
please rest assured I love you so much

in my heart you shall dearly remain
and evermore I will feel the pain
of losing you in this life weary
always you’ll be in my memory

when you are gone, I’d be on my own
for life goes on and up I have grown
so my Mama, “Thank you!”, I must say
my debt to you, I cannot repay.

- between
mother’s hark and lover’s spark
is daughter’s lark.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Confessions of a Doormat

2010-07-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

(The Relativity of Humility and Dignity)

i lie in meek silence on the floor
i lay inert by the callous door
i, naked, so bare: for barefoot souls
and shielded soles.

i humbly cleanse filth and floes
from soiled shoes and grimy toes
when into the door each foot goes.

i wait in timid stillness
the creak of door as it opens mornings
and stay awake till it closes nights
leaving me in chilly shadows.

i endure in docile tranquility
the crushing yoke of gravity
(with the weight of men arduous
the burden of women callous
and the load of children tedious).

still, I remain proud
that to my job I am true;
and fulfilled too, that by me,
those who enter the door
do so, with clean feet.

- a doormat
is between
dirty and clean.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Island Twilight

2010-06-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

(Kyleakin, Scotland, August 1987)

dusk turns into dark, slowly.
boondocks silhouette
against the last rays of sun setting.
horizon blackens like ink blotting
while rowdy sea vomits wild waves
crashing against the jagged rocks.

full moon rises.
in measured steps it climbs
the cloudless sky,
throwing eerie shadow shapes
as pungent scent of brackish water
permeates the chilly air.

i stare at the unforgettable scene
and think of home.

(when I’m away, home is what I miss
ever so warm like a hearth ablaze
with toddle of little feet that tease
and cuddle of supple hands’ embrace.)

- nostalgia
is between
longing and yearning.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Reaper of Souls

2010-06-23T06:18:00.000-07:00

(Oh Death, oh Death
You make soles even
You take souls even)

death, o pure contradiction of Life
you are the destiny of all strife
your claws patiently await your prey
to grip them in the end as they pray

death, o harbinger ever so proud
abrupt you come in mysterious shroud
cloak from whose wrap no one can escape
to swathe all souls when they reach the gate

death, o harvester of all mortal
your scythe must reap and rip at portal
reaper of souls and ripper of might
stiller of breath and stealer of light

death, o equalizer of all men
behold your work: so pale so ashen
this mortal body has now become
lifeless as it waits for “kingdom come”.

- between
mortality and immortality
is Death.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Fury in Beauty (Mt. Mayon Eruption)

2010-06-20T07:26:00.000-07:00

(We are like this volcano, for a time dormant, adamant suddenly;
sometimes latent, quiescent and quiet, then obstinate suddenly.)

[a cinquain string]

her lip
smells of sulfur,
hot as the sambalas*
and at night, its red lipstick glows
in rage.

thunder
roars from under,
the lands quiver, shudder;
frightened boars and deer scamper down
her slopes.

ashes
from her belly
billow a mushroom cloud
then drape restless towns in blanket
of grey.

lava
flows down her breast,
molten, like tears gushing,
carving gullies, gulping pine trees
away.

lahar
and rocks flush to
rivers, flooding lowlands;
villagers flee from the torrents
of mud.

the folks
flock to shelters;
crowding schools and centers
like beehives where they await aid
and food.

mayon
is a beauty
but her wrathful fury
is a legend in the land of
bicol.

- between
fury and beauty
is prodigy.

- between
seismic and geothermic
is volcanic.

-------------------------------------------
* very hot chili, indigenous pepper
from Bicol Region, Philippines
-------------------------------------------

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

On the Chess Board

2010-06-19T09:22:00.000-07:00

you are white
i am black
side by side
back to back

you are my self-image necessary
i am your alter-ego mandatory
in perfect contrast, we are one
in balanced symmetry, we are one

but me, you cannot be
my place, you cannot take
you, I cannot be
your place, I cannot take

you are my double, opposite
i am your shadow, requisite
you are fair, clean, conspicuous
i am dark, secretive, mysterious

and yet,

no game is played
without you and me!

- between you and me is game.
- between light and dark is delight.
- between ivory and Ebony is mystery.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

When I Was Your Age, My son

2010-06-18T09:45:00.000-07:00

(for Niño Karlo A., on his 16th birthday)

i helped your Grandpa fix the door
never scattered things on the floor

my hair was cut short: white-sidewall
not dyed blonde and not jelled at all

i read Shakespeare and loved poetry
disliked rowdy disco party

saw movies with friends on weekends
didn’t burn telephone lines on ends

wrote love letters for my crushes
never knew Internet Cafés

i enjoyed the good old stereo
no cellphones, MTV, video

i learned guitar and all its thrills
never drove around with my girls

i played ping-pong with my brother
never played with a computer

slept early before it’s midnight
never stayed out ‘til morning light

yes, when I was your age, my son
my life was plain, yet, so much fun.

- January 15, 2000

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Sunset Blues

2010-06-17T07:52:00.000-07:00

remnants of golden sunset –
filigreed beams of horizon frameless.
in the darkening orangey hue
i see you:
face generic, hair genetic.

your image, in a maze of haze,
just a trace in the blaze
disappearing.

ocher lines criss-cross
ions of woes and eons of lows
in this emptied beer bottle,

like my empty mind
as I gaze in daze
at the shifting shades
of the slowly emptying sun.

then light empties... into night.

- between
ions of woes and eons of lows
are amber tows.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Today, I Play as I Stray

2010-06-16T07:51:00.000-07:00

today, I play as I stray
in fair glades of changing hue
and I see the sea portray
seamless skies that seem less blue.

poinsettias of pointed leaves
in dark crevice craving light
but the man in me perceives
this, my path, is fiery bright!

today, I play as I stray
across the ocean’s isthmus
to shifting shades where I lay
with Lures of Mt. Olympus –

where wine is utmost (sweetest!)
with charming roses (no less!)
where summer skies are brightest
and raves of passion ingress.

today, I play as I stray –
a nomad in oasis
my camel in the wet fray
of caverns and sweet posies.

today, I play as I stray…

- between
fidelity and infidelity
is debility.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Phil's Pledge

2010-06-16T07:28:00.001-07:00

(i vow to stray not anymore
i come to leave you nevermore.)

clouds nimbus on Olympus toss
the isthmus of East must I cross
imperiled, empowered I sail
so tempest tossed in gale and hail.
lament no more and wait ashore
i come to leave you nevermore.

the rains on plains and mountains pour
the waves of raves on shores uproar
the wine in Time turns sour, impure
the roses, soon they lose allure.
i vow to stray not anymore
i come to leave you nevermore.

a nomad tires of trysts and treats
from wet caverns camel retreats
oasis soon dries up its spring
sweet posies wilt and lose their thing.
i swear to stay forevermore
i come to leave you nevermore.

the light of home as always warms
the sound of children’s laughter charms
the hugs of loving arms I miss
at home we live in wedded bliss.
lament no more and wait ashore
i come to leave you nevermore.

- between
going-astray and coming-home
is resolution.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Verdict

2010-06-15T07:35:00.000-07:00

Condemn me not.)

when my
drum is mum
when my
flute is mute

just bear the silence.

if my heart of lyre
has lost desire
if my mind of harp
is no more sharp

then read my sentence
but condemn me not.

- between
weak and meek
is critic.

- between
if and then
is logic.

- between
cause and effect
is verdict.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Rebirth from Death of Childhood

2010-06-14T07:14:00.000-07:00

(All adults passed the road through childhood.
The rise of adulthood is demise of childhood.
May the verses here akin to nursery rhymes, make us revisit
the road of child-ignorance, sans the load of adult-arrogance.)

embrace the tacit laughter of yesteryears
as though your last cherished treasure.
clowns and conical hats do fade away;
nursery rhymes, we outgrow then cast away;
but erase not the dreams and whims of childhood.
time is a scale that weighs yokes and hopes.
exactly as the weight of adversity bears on you,
rekindle flames of your early years; and then
as the child in you is reborn, so will you be.

(between
childhood-chime and adulthood-prime
is withstood-time.

between
child’s dream and adult’s whim
is fancy cream.)

- tolerance is between ignorance and arrogance.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Cave of Crave

2010-06-13T06:58:00.000-07:00

(We all have our cave of console and pining.)

in the cave of crave
you are stalagmite
and I, stalactite.

the endless drip
from my pointed tip
you catch to relish and sip.

in soggy patience, through eons of Time
we grow carbonate lime stakes of passion
molecule by molecule, inch by inch.

you, ever reaching up to me
i, ever reaching down to you

until our lips of conical tips kiss
eternally in sweet, silent rendezvous

then we become one pillar
of solid bliss untold.

- between
stalagmite and stalactite
is consistency.

- between
altar and alter
is constancy.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Indian Run

2010-06-12T07:48:00.000-07:00

(Torrent of a Past Monsoon)

barrel drum rumbles
black smoke signals rise
an Indian stumbles
and his dear squaw cries.

running fast he flees
men in hot pursuit
from behind he sees
flying arrows shoot.

now he runs for life
he must leave pronto
he stole the Chief’s wife
so quick he must go!

(there goes old story
from a past monsoon
when on the prairie
shone the light of moon.)

- between
story and prairie
is the moon.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Learning is Earning

2010-06-11T17:18:00.000-07:00

(Cranfield University,
Bedfordshire, England, July 1987)

lush English countryside -
serene setting of idyllic beauty;
i am charmed…
rustic and bucolic,
rural and pastoral.

from volcanic sands of Mt. Mayon
to pomp and heraldry of London
to cool Cranfield I move on.

i travel
on quest for new learning.

i return
with chest of fresh earning.

(for what is learning but earning
more space between heart and mind
so they swell with love and meaning
that one may not be so blind.

for what is leaving but coming
from any-where to there-somewhere
linear distance notwithstanding
but instance that matters ever.)

- between heart and mind is learning.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Chime of Childhood

2010-06-10T07:07:00.000-07:00

(for Mel Gian, who never saw the light of day)

on a candle-lit midnight
i hear a baby cry somewhere.
by flicker of flame smokeless
i regress --
to the comfort of crib,
the caress of cradle,
the roll of stroller,
the first hike,
the first bike...

now (suddenly),
i lament I am no longer a child
who believes in fairy tales.

the elves of inequity in childhood
have become
the ghosts of iniquity in adulthood.

the haunting never ends, even in sleep.
the deep slumber of childhood
seems too far away in a distant past,
as half-remembered nursery rhymes echo
in the silence of yesteryears.

the magical chime of childhood,
like the smokeless candle flame:

ethereal and whimsical!

- between ethereal
and whimsical
is magical.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Corporeal

2010-06-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

(My Hands of Play, My Feet of Clay)

escape, they say, mundane calls of modernity
“traverse virtuous path toward sexual hiatus…”
corporeal culture sprouting from sensuality
emerges like itchy hair of craving cactus.

temptation beckons like sweet cookies in a jar
embattled eardrums so inured, now deaf and numb
ruptures and car-masutras as sweet as nectar
against their harried words, I blissfully succumb!

(between
saint and sinner
is temptation.

between
sinner and saint
is conversion.)

- persuasion
is between
temptation and conversion.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Sing the Sweetest Tune

2010-06-08T06:13:00.000-07:00

(for Ben G., upon marital separation)

embattled pal, how shall I comfort you?
true friend in darkest hour of trial torn
condemned outcast of shattered heart so blue
(emotions numb) uplift your soul forlorn

tempt not your fate but stand firm on your ground
endear your hope to one who loves you so
better rejoice and move on (life goes ‘round)
then sing the sweetest tune, in proud echo!

The allure of “whirlwind” marriage is a mirage,
an illusion; like color photograph that fades so soon.
Yes, it is only true love that pervades and lasts:
pure romance endures in Time like photograph in sepia,
classic, unfading, unchanging…

- between
flawed marriage and gnawed union
is thawed romance.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Perpetual Pursuit

2010-06-07T06:49:00.000-07:00

(From where have we come, from whom are our genes?
We are in perpetual pursuit of our true origins;
like night and day in a chase unending, ever since.)

with its cloak of darkness, night chases day
day tracks night with its mantle of light ray
this primordial pursuit goes on and on
cosmic sport endless, where one catches none.

like us, in our endless quest for our genetic root
as we trace our origins in search for the truth
in vestiges of the past and artifacts ancient
in ruins and remnants of great empires transient.

a question terrestrial; an answer celestial!
a puzzle genetic; a solution galactic!

- the universe
is between
small particle and big bang.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Silent Love

2010-06-06T08:45:00.000-07:00

(Love vented, like rose scented, is favored.
Love uttered, like bread buttered, is flavored.)

(Suppression of feeling is expression of misgiving.
Repression of loving is transgression in living.)

i vent love
mutely
with soft rose
and color crayons
of shifting shades,

sans white ink
of silky rayon plume.

(between
rose and crayon
is pink.

between
paper and pen
is ink.)

- love
is between
pink and ink.

2010-06-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

(More minus Less equals Enough.)

evermore and nevermore –
twin words that say so much more

cool “n” changes evermore
ever quick to nevermore
they don’t believe evermore
each time I say nevermore
really I won’t prefix “more”
alas, never evermore!

(between
evermore and nevermore
is more.

between
ever and never
is less.)

- enough
is between
more and less.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Light

2010-06-04T07:46:00.000-07:00

(We come to know light by darkness.
Illumination though, is both inner and outer.
Inner radiance is brighter than outer brilliance.
Enlightenment is deepest coming from within.)

light
showers
on our lives
bathing the sham
washing the charade
dousing the masquerade
in our shadows of pretense
till they flush into dark gutters
and dissolve in the limbo of farce.

(between
fake and genuine
is repute.

between
false and true
is refute.)

- dispute
is between
repute and refute.

- illumination
is between
reflection and meditation.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Empty Beer Bottles

2010-06-03T07:24:00.000-07:00

(Trust nothing but beer bottles.)

empty amber bottles in columns and rows
twenty-four equals six-times-four in a case
can beer bottles tell how men drown their sorrows?
every secret shared by men when skirts they chase?

triumphs and victories that give men all thrill?
every contract or scheme made by men as well?
really, empty bottles have so much to spill
and yet, (thank goodness!) they do not kiss-and-tell.

(between
discreet and indiscreet
is beer.

between
naughty and haughty
is pilsen.

between
timid and glib
is amber.)

- secret
is between
thrill and spill.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Welsh Yarn

2010-06-02T07:44:00.000-07:00

(Indiscretion is not diversion of affection
but deviation from dictation of convention.)

so cold is the draft
her scent does beckon
so sweet is the waft
and so I reckon.

a romance in Wales
forget I cannot
ever worth the tales
regret I have not.

affair so hidden
as hot as ember
love so forbidden
nice to remember!

- between
hidden and bidden
is forbidden.

- between
romance and distance
is remembrance.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Wonder of Seeing

2010-06-01T07:24:00.000-07:00

(We see what we seek not
and seek what we see not.)

so rare is the wonder of seeing
and so scarce is the joy to behold
for what is the essence of being
but to see without having to hold.

- between
seeing and holding
is being.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Summer Trees

2010-05-31T07:23:00.000-07:00

(Lancaster, England, July 1987)

the summer trees by the roadsides grow
their branches swaying as the winds blow
creeping rays of sunshine thru their crowns
extolling pastel colors like clowns.

trees reach up the sky, their roots run deep
ever growing even as we sleep
reminding us to look up, to hope
as we keep our feet on ground, and cope.

- between
hoping and coping
is striving.

- between
feet-on-ground and head-up-high
is living.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Termites

2010-05-30T08:36:00.000-07:00

(When famished microbes upon the flesh feast,
the mortal body is reduced to least.)

they march in tiptoe
mute army of queen unseen
they cast no shadow
silent soldiers unforeseen.

they work, noiseless fools
while all the clocks are ticking
they toil, with no tools
with razor-teeth wood picking.

i track their quiet trail
inside a wall immobile
i see a void pale
devoid of wood (empty), still.

my body deadens
like wood slowly eaten, gnawed
my mind bitten, ends
yes, ceased; by disease hollowed.

- between
fleas and disease
is the body.

- between
shallow and hollow
is the mind.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Take Me Wandering (Where Dreams Are)

2010-05-29T05:43:00.000-07:00

(Wander into Dream, Dream into Wonder)

take me wandering where dreams are
where woes melt upon grass so fair
and anguish thaws like ice in jar
where new sun withers all despair.

fly my soul from pit forsaken
and rest my weary heart forlorn
on drifting clouds I be taken
where hope in me may be reborn.

lift my spirit to heights above
to where no one has ever been
where I can flounder much in love
with nymph of beauty yet unseen.

take me wandering where dreams are
so I may find my God in dream
while here on earth as all men are
in transience, I cease not, to dream.

- between
wondering and wandering
is dreaming.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Rose

2010-05-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

i pay no treasures
for rose’s pleasures
for no scent awesome
is worth king’s ransom.

- between
rose and woman
is scent.

- between
woman and rose
is cent.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Mortality

2010-05-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

(Fame and fortune are momentary;
grandeur and splendour, temporary.)

the ephemeral lotus
on a pond blossoming
in nocturnal splendor
with myriad stars
on the tranquil water
reminds me of
the transience of man
and life’s fleeting rewards –

here today, gone tomorrow!

- between
failure and success
is impermanence.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Enigma of Midlife

2010-05-25T07:46:00.000-07:00

they say midlife
comes as a crisis,
a prelude to old age,
the ebbing of life.

yet, it is a new beginning –
a dawning of wisdom
in shifting shades;

like the point where
the river meets the sea;
where the sky and horizon
become one;

where smiles echo
and there is silence
in laughter.

it is porthole to the past
and vignette to the future;

when one starts
to commune with the gods; and,

when we mortals cannot complain.

- between
youth-fleeting and midlife-pleating
is hair-depleting.

- between
flight-of-youth and plight-of-old-age
is light-of-midlife.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Comatose

2010-05-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

(Silence of the living
is more disturbing
than silence of the dead.)

silence
plugs your eardrums
and darkness plucks the light
from your eyes; your brain halts, you feel
nothing!

(the specter of existence
is a spectrum of silence.
we exist in varying grades of comatose;
subsist in shifting shades of silent overdose.
the ear opts not to hear
what the dear mind may fear.
but the fatality of the deaf ear
is worse than brutality of mute fear.

we are colors in shifting shades
in the broad spectrum of silence.)

- comatose
is between
living and dying.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Booze Abuse, Liquor Rancor

2010-05-23T07:47:00.000-07:00

is it not perplexing how men
time and again turn to drink
despite misery from pilsen
and liquors that reek or stink?

is it not confounding why men
love to raise goblets in toast
in reckless, wanton abuse, when
sooner their livers will roast?

- between
clink and stink
is drink.

- between
sober and somber
is hang-over.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

A Riddle from Nowhere

2010-05-22T06:56:00.000-07:00

between navel and knee it dwells
though not exposed by underwear
it is always shown in Thailand
but in Vatican it’s not seen.

between girls and women it remains
by middle of hands, may be hidden
it makes mate elongate by mandate
and it starts here, ends in wonderland.

it brings her-and-me together
but sets husband and wife apart
it makes philandering, not fidelity
but without it, there is no understanding.

what is it?

- between riddle and answer is “and”.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Seagull and Sand

2010-05-21T08:36:00.000-07:00

(for Seething Seagull)

i stand on the shore so wide
and watch a seagull at play;
bird of sea in graceful glide,
wings so free to fly away.

some grains of dry sand I clasp;
oh, so fine they seem to me.
yet, they slip my tightest grasp
to fall, back where they must be.

seagull you are, in the air;
and on the shore, I am sand;
and though you love me so fair,
hold you I can’t, in my hand.

time may come you’ll heed a call
and leave me (you will) behind;
for I’m not free-as-seagull,
am where I must be, as sand.

- between
seagull and sand
is destiny.

- between
you and me
is fate.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Peñaranda Park Revisited

2010-05-20T08:17:00.000-07:00

(Haikus: Nostalgia on lost grandeur of an old park.)
(This park of my childhood: the spark of my adulthood.)

new arches subdue
shifting shades of old splendor
when shadows carve light

lace of black iron
replaced bygone yellow bells
where green lawn once lazed

dry fountains agape
mock sky in concrete stillness
sans crickets’ anthem

grey mats of cement
now reside upon the ground
carpet of grass, gone

gone too, chirping birds
daransi-an* they were called
in the days of old

peñaranda, yes
the park remains where it was
minus the splendor.

- between old and new is alteration.

-----------------------------------------------------------
* Black birds with red eyes (now rarely seen);
they used to inhabit the trees and yellow bell
flowers around Peñaranda Park and the belfry
of St. Gregory Cathedral across the park.
-----------------------------------------------------------

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Amber Slumber

2010-05-19T08:51:00.001-07:00

(Drink Less, Write More, Sleep Enough)

pale dawn gulps darkness
emptying night of blackness
like drained beer bottles
(perfectly still)
on my table.

my laptop and printer lay inert
(perfectly still)
as the empty amber bottles –
the screensaver, still aglow
meets the dawn’s amber glow.

outside,
a rooster crows unheard,
and herd of crows roost there
as I lay
(perfectly still)
in the darkness

of amber slumber.

- between
somber and slumber
is amber.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Woman

2010-05-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

(We men obey what women say.
Women pray when we men play.)

what hex does woman wield
that man should woe and wince
notwithstanding her fickleness?

why must valiant man yield
timid as forlorn prince
to her callous capriciousness?

oh, woman from man’s grid
you have reviled man since
an Eden’s Eve became temptress!

(between
blight and delight
is woman.

between
faithful and unfaithful
is temptress.)

- excitement
is between
enticement and inducement.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

On the Night We Parted

2010-05-17T08:06:00.000-07:00

the winds spill
and curtains billow
we lie still

teardrops spill
washing our pillow
our bed, still

shadows fill
hearts weep like willow
silence still

bodies twill
like fires that bellow
juices spill

we wait till
the cold winds mellow
leave, we will

the winds still
on curtains yellow
we part still.

- between hello and goodbye is unification.
- between goodbye and hello is separation.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Loch Ness

2010-05-16T07:23:00.001-07:00

(Loch Ness, Scotland, September 1987)

pristine lake of immense waters still
sight captivating my heart in thrill
scottish pride of natural splendour
a scene of green amid blue grandeur

waters glimmer against the sunlight
small fishes in leisure swim on sight
tiny leaves glisten on surface float
and drift about as on castle’s moat

lake of wonder, loch of mystery
what secret lies beneath such beauty?
legends of serpent-monster forebode
haunt local folks in their own abode

then I find myself in deep a thought
what bliss to me this lake has brought
no matter what the legends profess
never can I forget Loch Ness.

- between
myth and legend
is mystery.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Iniquity and Inequity, Twins

2010-05-15T05:56:00.000-07:00

They say these twins were begotten by sins.
By sins of Man? By the Vile Prince? When since?
Since the dawn of history, lords and kings,
subjects and objects, or beings and things,
to these twins lay hostage; ah, what wastage!
What alarms is: these twins get worse with age!

Oh, prophets and seers, masters and gurus of all ages
You have fought the wicked and the crooked on all front
You have taught values and virtues to peoples on stages
And yet, to this day and age, these same twins, we confront!

- between
iniquity and inequity
is humanity.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Death Row, Cell 36

2010-05-14T07:27:00.000-07:00

(A death convict’s last thoughts
before the execution)

within this choking confine
i hear the mocking chime
of clock marking time.

beyond this four-cornered concrete cracking,
locks clanking like blades of grass gnashing,
like swords clashing, like glass crashing.

these iron bars:
brothers to my scars
and tattoos myriad as stars -

gaping teeth of devil’s mold grinning;
round bars, cold to hold,
frigid and rigid,
unmoving.

in me, the inexorable reproach seeping,
even as I see that cocky cockroach creeping,
from my cracked couch, peeping.

i see
the shifting shades of Life fading;

i hear
the lulling voice of Death…

… calling.

- between liberty and death is verdict.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Here and Now

2010-05-13T08:54:00.000-07:00

day and night
at twilight collide
shades of bright
kiss
hues of dark.

past and future
today collide
yesterday’s memories
hug
tomorrow’s dreams.

and there you are
while I am here
so very far
and yet, so near.

sometime somewhere

you and I
will collide
then kiss and hug
but how I wish it’s

here and now!

- we are between here and now.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

A Suitor's Woo

2010-05-13T08:20:00.000-07:00

love me now or love me never
while Time is on our side
take me now to hold forever
before the turn of tide.

love me true while the sky is blue
tomorrow may be late
for seasons change the heaven’s hue
i won’t for so long wait.

not oft the sparrow comes to build
her nest upon a tree
think not that ever you can wield
your magic upon me.

love me not for my outward charm
not for material gain
for these may fail or cease to warm
would you love me, in pain?

for sure your beauty fades with Time
as leaves of autumn fall
but rest assured my love’s sublime
love me now, heed my call.

- between
woo and woe
is “No!”.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Night Walk

2010-05-12T07:33:00.001-07:00

shadows deepen in ambiguity
naked stillness paints obscurity
a hungry night owl in devious prowl
my lone cohort in nocturnal stroll.

sandals hushed in trepid silence walk
haunt like predators-of-prey in stalk
my dreary steps in rhythmic cadence
as desolate darkness numbs my sense.

truncated trunks and twisted twigs mark
forsaken roadsides in cloak of dark
the road ahead, grey ribbon winding
with chilly silhouettes unending.

against the bleak, dismal mist I gaze
this boring hike puts my mind in haze
but thought of a new day cheers me up:
a bright tomorrow when sun is up.

- between
dark side and bright side
is a stroll.

- between
bright side and dark side
is a fall.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

My Shadow

2010-05-12T07:31:00.001-07:00

ever by me,
it trails like entrails
tracking me in fluid motion
as I wander in the moonlight;

my silent stalker
in the stillness of night;
misshapen figure
changing form as I move;

i cannot catch or clutch,
i cannot grasp or clasp,
i cannot beat or defeat;

until

i move into absolute darkness
where it melts (becoming one)
with the utter blackness,

swallowing me whole!

- between
my shadow and me
are my shoes.

- between
shadow and light
is matter.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Passage of Time

2010-05-11T08:28:00.000-07:00

(Time’s passage means dosage of age.)

OLD vine and Time entwine
a rhyme sublime
for what makes vine twist and climb
if not the passage of Time?

OLD wine in oakwood hollow
an idiom not shallow
so what makes wine age and mellow
if not the passage of Time?

OLD comets leave then return anew
a cycle always true
then what makes them appear when due
if not the passage of Time?

OLD wounds beget scar or stain
the plain stamp of pain
but what makes pain heal and wane
if not the passage of Time?

OLD we grow, in time regret
an adage not secret
and what makes us frail and forget
if not the passage of Time?

OLD Time flies in trip boundless
a journey limitless
what goes by that is just endless?
only the passage of Time.

- between young and old is Time.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Lazy Kind

2010-05-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

(Never adjourn or ever mourn.)

so now, today, we hesitate
lethargic, we procrastinate
we opt to leave a deed undone
lay unfinished some work begun

we drag our feet in indolence
and dally for the next time hence
or wait for chance in apathy
and bear the yoke of lethargy

whatever we defer today
tomorrow, high a price we pay
the matter we today postpone
tomorrow, we may but atone

to make the most, never adjourn
or lose the chance, forever mourn
why put off when we can put on?
why tarry when we can move on?

for lassitude is really vice
by fortitude be truly wise
the idle mind, the lazy kind
are left behind, by all mankind!

- between
lassitude and fortitude
is attitude.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

A Lifetime

2010-05-10T08:00:00.001-07:00

(One lifetime is enough.)

i wish not to live forever
i quest for no fountain of youth
make pact with the devil never
to cheat mortality and truth.

i wish for me to expire
like a candle flame when old
or lose heat as ember fire
when doused by water so cold.

i wish to live a lifetime
climbing colorless rainbows
my soul churning on each climb
between pinnacles and troughs.

i wish to delve into depths
and seek some frontiers obscure
trek across untrodden breadths
before Time runs out for sure.

hence, when at last I perish
my patent mark will remain
embossed for those who cherish
a lifetime of no refrain.

- a lifetime
is between
birth and death.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Succor of Silence

2010-05-10T07:53:00.000-07:00

(Expo ’70 Site, Osaka, Japan, March 1995)

alone… at dusk,

in this vast, open-space;
away from the rat-race,
the silence, I embrace.

silence: a reprieve!
a balm to calm qualm,
a soup to soothe seethe,
anise to ease unease.

silence is PEACE!

(silence is
not simply the absence of sound
not solely determined by ear.

silence is
the absence of thought
the nonexistence of sensation.

silence is an interlude, an in-between:
the pause between breaths
the respite between words
the gap between musical notes
the lull between drips in a leak
the break between ticks of a clock
the interval between heartbeats
the hiatus between feelings.)

- between
din and din
is silence.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Transience

2010-05-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

I Stir and Steer;
I Travel and Travail;
to Places and Spaces;
thru Times and Climes;
with Chimes and Charms,
People and Tipple;
by Turns and Churns;
in Futility and Mortality;
to Fate, to Destiny.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Playground

2010-05-09T22:32:00.000-07:00

(A Redolent Recollection-Reflection at 50)

when I was a little boy,
i used to play at the playground
by the Peñaranda Park. I loved
to ride on the swing that vaulted so high
i could see the blue sky blur. I had fun
with other boys on the seesaw; so amused
watching little girls’ colorful skirts balloon
in the wind, as they played skipping rope…

now, I find myself in a virtual playground.
the seesaw is gone, yet, my life is a seesaw
with ups-and-downs. The skipping rope
has disappeared, but I never skip chance
for romance. I never balloon women
who are careless with their skirts.

the swing is nowhere,
and instead,
i see the swing of a faceless pendulum
that tells me so much Time has passed

since I rode the swing!

- between
childhood and adulthood
is a swing.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Mama

2010-05-09T01:03:00.000-07:00

(mother of six,
widow, retired teacher,
grandma, great-grandma)

exactly how right can I write about you?
the script may just do no justice to you
clear words as the pure morning dew for you
equal with no woman, one and only you.

the elves in my childhood, you did banish
my ghosts in adulthood, you admonish
between me and my forfeits, you keep watch
and between me and my feats, you’re in touch.

time I would not know ‘til it to me you brought
earth would not be home ‘til it for me you sought
reason would not be mine ‘til it to me you taught
and, life would not be so ‘til it for me you bought.

- between
girlhood and motherhood
are hurdles withstood.

- between
motherhood and grand-motherhood
is growing brood.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Man Fails, Earth Ails

2010-05-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

(Man’s silliness begets earth’s illness.)

the green of earth, by the greed of man, grazed
reed of grass, rid by man from soil’s grid, razed

no trees that stir, no breeze on fir that steers
no breed of bird, no deer or bear appears

filth at river, silt at sea, sewer slime
fishes float, dead of grime, behold man’s crime

thin air, thick smog, ozone-layer-reduce
beware: danger zone! Man has lit the fuse…

lest man greet the future with grit resolved
no feet shall walk desert planet, absolved!

- global warming
is between
local warning and total burning.

- mother earth’s tomorrow
lies between
yesterday and today.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Sole Mole

2010-05-08T05:01:00.000-07:00

(Moles are like secrets; everyone has them!)

red is the mole on my left foot so
it is quite small but visible though
between the heel and a calloused toe
for forty-four years it seems to grow.

and yet, no one ever seems to know
because this mole would not itself show
often so covered by sock and shoe
and now, this secret is known to you.

(a secret is
something hidden
something forbidden
something that makes you unforgiven.

a secret is something unusual ---
the unknown among the knowns
the groan among the moans
the drone among the tones.)

a secret is an in-between:
between you and me
between sigh and cry
between amity and enmity
between friend and foe

between heel and toe.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Oh, Venus

2010-05-08T04:46:00.000-07:00

(My Ode to the Goddess of Love)

goddess of Love must you beguile
man, so frail to your charms do fall?
must man decry, be worth his while
to fall in love and heed your call?

should arrow from your son Cupid
pierce man’s heart to gravely afflict?
should man be naïve, yet, stupid
to yield and bear amidst conflict?

ah, Love conquers all, so they say;
so must man to your spell succumb?
and, why must man delight or pay
a toll price forthright ‘til the tomb?

oh Venus of beauty so pure,
guide baffled man that he be true;
when in love he better be sure
to keep your fire always so new!

- between
love and hate
is flame.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Sorrow's Haunting

2010-05-08T04:40:00.000-07:00

Primarily, we covet that Sorrow be extinct
like the prehistoric dinosaur; dead and gone,
vanished, never to return to perturb us again.
Yet, our primal selves or primeval minds
remain prime hosts to this primordial animal,
ever haunting us in our primitive state.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Lady Justice

2010-05-07T06:05:00.000-07:00

ah, Lady Justice are you fair?
what is your blindfold’s real fare?
some innocents, in jail languish;
diffidents, in squalor anguish.

your scale does tip uncertain fate:
unbalanced dip must calibrate!
children hunger, women battered;
culprits linger, yet unfettered.

your gown and cord in mute accord:
say no word with your two-edged sword.
oh Lady where do you reside,
when vile offenders do preside?

- between
love and hate
is flame.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

I Leave a Mark, a Trail

2010-05-07T04:25:00.000-07:00

(Trails and Trials in Transient Liaisons)

i shuttle between kisses
scuttle between embraces
flutter between sugar and nectar
falter between alter and altar.

like a comet of fiery tail
that streaks across the heavens pale
in brief passage from east to west
in transit from quest to conquest –

i leave a mark, a trail,
in transience.

(on Life’s journey I did embark
on rousing pathways I trek much
while in passage I leave my mark
on winsome roses that I touch.

on precarious course I travail
by rocky roadsides I get burned
but in transience I leave my trail
no hefty stone remain unturned.

in deep canyons sometimes I fell
on steep ravines I climb though frail
my strength, I find on roses’ smell…
i leave my mark, I leave my trail.)

- my mark is between sugar and nectar.
- my trail is between alter and altar.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Paolo to Paoleen: Genetics

2010-05-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

(Me: at 26, a father; at 47, a grandfather)

1982 -
i slip under white bed-cover
soft bedsheet shaping taut manhood
(with pleased, happy, content lover)
anticipating fatherhood…

2005 -
i bend over pink crib-stroller
soft cribsheet shaping Paoleen good
(with pleased, happy, content father)
relishing thrilled grand-fatherhood.

(between
boyhood and manhood
is frenetic flexibility.

between
manhood and fatherhood
is generic responsibility.

between
fatherhood and grand-fatherhood
is genetic ability.)

- between
generic and genetic
is continual conflict.

- between
dogma-of-Creation and theory-of-Evolution
is continuing-confusion.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

I Am But Migrant

2010-05-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

(In Transit Thru Time)

upon the vast heavens I cast my eyes
astounded at such an expanse sublime
i see the moon and the stars in the skies
it is truly then that I realize
i am but migrant in transit thru Time.

on my desk I work and on bed I play -
paper-sheets of white and bed-sheets of lime
all bear my mark and my score of the day
by my hands of toil and my feet of clay
i am but migrant in transit thru Time.

between the distinct lines of poems I write
i waver on words of rhythm and rhyme
and when I falter between wrong and right
i seek a vision that I may see light
i am but migrant in transit thru Time.

between womb and tomb is a voyage brief
the fleeing years, fleeting dears…, now my prime
youth’s egress, midlife’s ingress, what relief -
and yet, I fear illness and old age grief
i am but migrant in transit thru Time.

upon the vast heavens I cast my eyes
then wonder and ponder when is the time
my Maker calls me and closes my eyes
when He pounds the gavel and casts the dice
i am but migrant in transit thru Time.

- migrant is between itinerant and ambulant.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Read My Mind

2010-05-04T09:03:00.000-07:00

i write not for wealth or fame
i seek no poet’s laurel bough
tho’ no plume will carve my name
let my heart thru pen ink flow.

my psyche to fore be brought
to share with those of my kind
it is when I write my thought
that one gets to read my mind.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Ifs and But (Epilogue)

2010-05-04T08:53:00.000-07:00

(Shifting Shades cease not with this last leaf.
In-betweens dwell far beyond this book brief.
My words on paper-surface are but iceberg-tip.
Yet, may they strike chords in your psyche, deep;
deep as the tip of a nail to full-depth driven;
deep as the zeal I feel with every word written.
The spectrum, by light verse, I have fleetingly traversed.
But at least, hearts and minds, I have transiently immersed.)

(Meanwhile, auburn sands in hourglass continue falling…
faceless pendulums in clocks of dreams continue swinging…)

if there is wisdom in what I write
let the wise say right.
if there is folly in what I pen
let the fool amen.
if there is no love in what I scrawl
let the lovers howl.

but, should my words or verses trespass
let them come to pass.

- this book
is between
my heart and my mind.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Fountain of Life

2010-05-02T21:00:00.000-07:00

(Water seeketh level lowest
but we seeketh level highest.)

water we are,
restless.
not content to be contained
we hasten to overflow
in trickles and torrents,
in drips and spurts.

we rise in rush.
to the sky we gush
but never reach it),
squirting up
in swish and swoosh--
rushing, gushing.

then,
by the shifting shades
of color spotlights
we fall with a splash;
in due time crash
when gravity pulls us down
to our gashing bowl…
we smash back to

our reality, our humanity!

- between
rising and falling
is pause.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Auburn Sand

2010-05-02T19:18:00.000-07:00

(We are grains of sand in the hourglass of life.
Either we are above/ below or going through constriction;
ever at the notion of the Timeless Timekeeper
as He randomly turns the hourglass
upside-down or downside-up.)

the hourglass -
60 minutes of cold auburn sand
in Siamese twin cones,
glass clones;

each grain besieged in a race
thru funnel of narrow space,
flushing from the top cone,
gushing to the bottom cone.

as if sucked in a black hole
quickly falls each grain…

(… of sand)

in mini enclosure
that mean to measure
time immeasurable
in a space measurable:

an hour on top, an hour below,
by narrowed cones of clones reversible;
but our borrowed lives, irreversible.

- between top-cone and bottom-cone is constriction.
- between emptying and filling is restriction.
- between giving and receiving is benediction.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

The Specter of Life

2010-05-02T18:18:00.000-07:00

Life is a specter, a spectrum of colors -
changing hues from end-to-end;
shifting shades at every stage.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar

Shifting Shades

2010-05-01T22:23:00.000-07:00

Time has neither beginning nor end, an eternity.
It has neither width nor breadth, an infinity.
Our stint in Time is but a flint: finite, phantom!
The tint varies as we sprint across the spectrum.
We glint from new mint to old lint; from firm to frail
Our print we leave; footprint-tracks mark our trail
Between end-to-end, the specter of reality
Is shifting shades; amidst eternity.

(c) Chito L. Aguilar