midnight chill
I wait for New Year
alone

From my book, Rustle of bamboo leaves

alone amidst
frenzied shoppers
this chilly holiday
I think I'll buy me
a present

Gregorio del Pilar

Victor P. Gendrano

Ako'y naatasang pilit na pigilin
Ang mga kalaba'y huwag palampasin,
Sa bundok ng Tirad ang aking mithiin
Makalayo sana ang Heneral natin,
Sa Amerikanong nais na hulihin
Ang ulo ng bansang ayaw paalipin.

Hayo na Heneral di makalalampas
Ang kahit na sinong dito ay tatahak,
Mamamatay muna kaming lahat-lahat
Buhay ibubuwis, lakas, pagod, hirap,
Upang bansa nati'y luningning tumingkad
Sa mga dayuha'y kami'y di yayakap.

Kagabing tahimik ang mga paligid
Habang sinusulat ang laman ng isip,
May buntong-hininga sa nalayong ibig
At mga magulang matagal nang sabik
Na makaulayaw, ngunit sa hinagpis
Ang namamayani'y ang bansang pagibig.

Isip ko'y malinaw, aking nalalaman
Higit na marami sundalong kaaway,
Ang bundok na ito'y magiging libingan
Ngunit sa daigdig ipagsisigawan,
Mga Pilipino'y may likas na tapang
Di paaalipin sinumang dayuhan!

Bansang Pilipinas, bayan ng bayan ko
Buhay ko't ng aking lahat na sundalo
Ay iniaalay sa kapakanan mo't
Sa ikararangal bansang Pilipino!
(Anong kabuluhan ng buhay sa mundo
Kung walang dakilang adhikain ito?)

Brigadier General Gregorio del Pilar, nephew of the great propagandist Marcelo H. del Pilar, died at the Battle of Tirad Pass at the tender age of 24 on December 2, 1899. With the American soldiers in hot pursuit of his commander, General Emilio Aguinaldo, Del Pilar with his 60 soldiers volunteered to stay behind and defend Tirad Pass from the oncoming U. S. cavalry battalion.

On the night before he died, Del Pilar wrote the following in his diary:

"I yield to the terrible destiny that will overcome me and my brave
soldiers, but I am glad to die fighting for my beloved country."

Reprinted from Heritage Magazine, Vol. IX, No. 4, Winter 1995.

Thanksgiving prayer

Thanks God
for gift of life
and blessings we enjoy.
Please help us to realize that
hatred
only
begets hatred;
but love engenders love
if we give it a chance to bloom
once more.

Runaway Son

One dreary autumn morning I went to the YMCA for my twice-weekly exercise. There staring at me from the door was a big poster with a boy's picture. It is a wanted sign with the parents offering a monetary reward for the safe return of their 14-year old runaway son.

I was so touched by this sad incident which kept haunting me that later that day, while waiting for lunch at my favorite eatery, I wrote these poems at the back of the sales receipt. This is an example of a poem that wrote itself.

First I tried a haiku:

a broken bat lies
in his near empty room
their runaway son

but I needed to expand it a little bit more, so I wrote a tanka:

autumn chill
a broken bat
and busted ball crowd
his near empty room
their runaway son

LOS ANGELES FIRESTORMS

Yesterday, north and south of Los Angeles, CA was beset by bush fires which burned houses and properties. Many people were ordered to be evacuated to safe places, including their livestock. The forest fire is still going on in some areas, undoubtedly abetted by the cyclical Santa Ana winds. As ashes cover part of my car and driveway this morning, I penned these sequence of haiku while eating breakfast at my favorite fast food place.


she gingerly picks
the charred remains
of her Barbie doll

rain of ash covers
the Los Angeles basin
egged by Santa Ana wind

no picky fire
humble abode
nor stately house

feisty firefighters
fight fires with their lives
we salute you friends

tales of survival
abound with the
homeless people

we pray with them
for hope and strength
to carry on

VETERAN'S DAY

marching band
he pats the Purple Heart
over his feeble heart

veteran's park
he feeds a one-legged bird
from his wheelchair

end of parade
he gazes at the birds
flying to sunset

Vic Gendrano