Don’t Flee Away with Your Ship
By Romar A. Pabustan
Don’t go!
Don’t even try! My friend.
I need you,
I know.
You’re part of my life--
You’re the only ear when I am expressing;
The only eye whenever I am missing…
Stay,
Stay beside me
because you’re my warden of soul.
You make me glad when you save me out of trouble,
From dangerous faces
of untrue angels,
I don’t know where to sail
if you’re gone away
Please don’t flee away with your ship,
Because if you did, I am losing my grip
(2001)
..................................................................
By Romar A. Pabustan
Don’t go!
Don’t even try! My friend.
I need you,
I know.
You’re part of my life--
You’re the only ear when I am expressing;
The only eye whenever I am missing…
Stay,
Stay beside me
because you’re my warden of soul.
You make me glad when you save me out of trouble,
From dangerous faces
of untrue angels,
I don’t know where to sail
if you’re gone away
Please don’t flee away with your ship,
Because if you did, I am losing my grip
(2001)
..................................................................
Acceptance
by Romar Pabustan
Acceptance is always the key to have friends
I know, evil comes from pessimistic minds,
And all I know, friends meet at intersecting lines
That is, we, with my friends are the longitudes
And, of the wide globe, latitudes.
It does
not
matter
how low your mind is.
(What we ask is your understanding--
deep loving)
I believe
our attitude is
more
more important
Than beauty and aptitude--
it’s not enough to have
So-called
beautiful
mind.
When
attitude presides
over our hearts,
Our sturdy friendship
will
cover
by doubts,
hatred and envy--
And trust could never be achieved
Each
is
hardly to believe….
For acceptance
is always the key to have friends--
It does not matter what kind of life you had,
The main belief here is we (not lonely) are glad:
Forget not our concern for each and no lies--
And we do celebrate our lives…
(2003)
...............................................................
by Romar Pabustan
Acceptance is always the key to have friends
I know, evil comes from pessimistic minds,
And all I know, friends meet at intersecting lines
That is, we, with my friends are the longitudes
And, of the wide globe, latitudes.
It does
not
matter
how low your mind is.
(What we ask is your understanding--
deep loving)
I believe
our attitude is
more
more important
Than beauty and aptitude--
it’s not enough to have
So-called
beautiful
mind.
When
attitude presides
over our hearts,
Our sturdy friendship
will
cover
by doubts,
hatred and envy--
And trust could never be achieved
Each
is
hardly to believe….
For acceptance
is always the key to have friends--
It does not matter what kind of life you had,
The main belief here is we (not lonely) are glad:
Forget not our concern for each and no lies--
And we do celebrate our lives…
(2003)
...............................................................
One Night with Puti
by Romar A. Pabustan
One night I talked to my lovely pet.
His name
is “Puti”—a white cat--
About what happened to my life.
I told him that
I wanted to be like him,
Sitting and lying
down on the
floor
Without any problem,
but just
of his appetite
Unlike me,
I am worrying my
entire
future
And now or present is
included too
for sure.
Perhaps Puti was listening
while looking at
me
Twinkling with
yellowish eyes
And then,
rubbing his furry
body on my feet
… I’d thought
that was its way of begging food,
But I’d found out
he was
appeasing me
To forget my worries and pains:
To halt from heart bursting--
To halt from mind bothering.
But at least,
Puti, a white cat, just a cat,
Gave me crystal-
clear
realization, a lot.
That even he, could be
a better friend
On
his
very
strange
way
of
what
he’s
got’.
(2005)
.....................................................................
To Ms. Judy Abbott
by Romar Pabustan
I have been searching for almost all of my life,
A perfect peculiarity for a lady belonging to,
Optimistic when things going wrong:
Simplicity, her weapon, bound to a good horizon:
Joyous life was created by her:
Courage and honesty make her bright
Against her unexpected dismay and despair of her life…
Yes, these principles are the attitudes I have sought
From an incredible world of a lady named, Judy Abbott….
Ms. Judy Abbott is also the lady of pity, fame, and goodwill
That no human’s mind could really comprehend
Perhaps—I can never blame them—I am the only one who believes her
Because she is just a product of imagination with pencil and paper
Perhaps, she is just a reflection of me from mind to heart
Which is the compatibility becoming my lonely mark--
Perhaps, Ms. Judy Abbott and have the same interest and talents
Not just from poems, novels, and various arts--
Also in expression of feeling with freedom like a lark…
Or! Perhaps…. Perhaps,
I am falling in love with her--
But why not?
Love is not just for existence--
Is for any art too!
Like love from Almighty that we feel
Like love with Almighty that we feel…
If Ms. Judy Abbott is truth—Tangible and be my love--
Maybe I’ll spendmy life for her
Then who knows about us for the lovely futurity;
Who knows the gorgeous music of our compatibility? Our destiny?
If Ms. Judy Abbott is truth…. If Ms. Judy is…
If I am Mr. John Smith or Daddy Long Legs,
I would never ever be ceased from loving without any regret,
And I think that is the best living to enjoy my virtues
For this living, it suits my procuring values.
If I am Mr. Pendleton with my love Ms. Judy Abbott
If I am Mr. Pendleton … If I could be…
( 2004)
..............................................................
The Happiest Poem Ever
by Romar Pabustan
Wow!
For the very first time,
My friend asked me a poem
with or without a rhyme
I could hardly even imagine,
And my face enlivened
“She wanted it, she wanted it, she wanted!”
Was just on my mind while writing this poem on the seat.
I did not choose beautiful fragrant words
To give my friend a poetry of competing world,
For I really want to feel for her my joy and proud
To what I am fully cuddling now.
I am very, very glad
for asking a sheet of imagination!!!
And if you want to open
this overjoyed heart,
You will hear here inside my heart:
Yeah!
Eureka! Oh!
Mmm! Yessss! Ah!
Hurrah! Right! Thanks! Hello!
Great! Knacks! Nice! Pretty good! Hoo!
Halleluiah! Two thumbs up! Beautiful! Unbelievable!
Excellent! Astounding! Hahaha! Fantastic! Yoo-hoo! Yahoo! ….(So on)
(2005)
...............................................................
by Romar Pabustan
Wow!
For the very first time,
My friend asked me a poem
with or without a rhyme
I could hardly even imagine,
And my face enlivened
“She wanted it, she wanted it, she wanted!”
Was just on my mind while writing this poem on the seat.
I did not choose beautiful fragrant words
To give my friend a poetry of competing world,
For I really want to feel for her my joy and proud
To what I am fully cuddling now.
I am very, very glad
for asking a sheet of imagination!!!
And if you want to open
this overjoyed heart,
You will hear here inside my heart:
Yeah!
Eureka! Oh!
Mmm! Yessss! Ah!
Hurrah! Right! Thanks! Hello!
Great! Knacks! Nice! Pretty good! Hoo!
Halleluiah! Two thumbs up! Beautiful! Unbelievable!
Excellent! Astounding! Hahaha! Fantastic! Yoo-hoo! Yahoo! ….(So on)
(2005)
...............................................................
Whole Packages
by Romar A. Pabustan
Teachers?
Who are they?
Where they've come from?
Well, for me
They are
The whole
packages.
They are
Varied
In topics
From printed pages;
They have ability
That no
Other
Beings have;
They are the molders of
Nowadays clays…
Tell me,
Who will
I choose?
A teacher or--
The alternative--
Imagination's product
Called
Robotic and/or
Computerized stuff?
I,
I’d rather pick
A teacher
To teach me
In everything
I need to know
Including,
Emotions,
And beliefs and urging.
And still
I will
Be with
A good
Good teacher
In a one day
Than a thousand days
Of studying
With emotionless,
For all I know,
Teaching
Is the
All-around
Artistry,
And that
Is why,
Teachers
Are
NOT
And should
NEVER
Typecast them
nobodies.
( 2004)
.................................................................
by Romar A. Pabustan
Teachers?
Who are they?
Where they've come from?
Well, for me
They are
The whole
packages.
They are
Varied
In topics
From printed pages;
They have ability
That no
Other
Beings have;
They are the molders of
Nowadays clays…
Tell me,
Who will
I choose?
A teacher or--
The alternative--
Imagination's product
Called
Robotic and/or
Computerized stuff?
I,
I’d rather pick
A teacher
To teach me
In everything
I need to know
Including,
Emotions,
And beliefs and urging.
And still
I will
Be with
A good
Good teacher
In a one day
Than a thousand days
Of studying
With emotionless,
For all I know,
Teaching
Is the
All-around
Artistry,
And that
Is why,
Teachers
Are
NOT
And should
NEVER
Typecast them
nobodies.
( 2004)
.................................................................
Thank You
by Romar A. Pabustan
Thank you,
Nothing is coming out in this babbling mind…
But this straightforward word.
The word that has the hefty gist’s…
And for sure it’s not the regretful farewell--
Just a momentarily closed door of hearts,
And give ourselves a chance to breathe the outside world,
And to fly away to look for a greenest gold.
Who knows, we would meet down the lane
And opened window for new life again--
I ‘m hoping … I’m wishing.
But for all, as for now…
Thank you
(2006)
by Romar A. Pabustan
Thank you,
Nothing is coming out in this babbling mind…
But this straightforward word.
The word that has the hefty gist’s…
And for sure it’s not the regretful farewell--
Just a momentarily closed door of hearts,
And give ourselves a chance to breathe the outside world,
And to fly away to look for a greenest gold.
Who knows, we would meet down the lane
And opened window for new life again--
I ‘m hoping … I’m wishing.
But for all, as for now…
Thank you
(2006)
After-Three-Year Portraitist
by Romar A. Pabustan
Here I am again.
Trying to put up my incomplete edifice
The edifice of my talent called making portrait.
Been doing this for last half year
And now, still no life-like
Still I can’t catch the art of it
I know, I know the details of eyes,
nose, mouth, ears and color of hairs.
why (wonderin') I can’t create now
Do I need to fall in love with someone?
To have source of my inspiration?
And
have
source
of
dedication?
What
for?
What (really) for?
And I know….
Well it’s hard
To
say about it
Let me give more time to prove it…
If ever I failed I will put it on poetry
Starting tonight,
after three
years
We
will
see…
(2003)
............................................................
by Romar A. Pabustan
Here I am again.
Trying to put up my incomplete edifice
The edifice of my talent called making portrait.
Been doing this for last half year
And now, still no life-like
Still I can’t catch the art of it
I know, I know the details of eyes,
nose, mouth, ears and color of hairs.
why (wonderin') I can’t create now
Do I need to fall in love with someone?
To have source of my inspiration?
And
have
source
of
dedication?
What
for?
What (really) for?
And I know….
Well it’s hard
To
say about it
Let me give more time to prove it…
If ever I failed I will put it on poetry
Starting tonight,
after three
years
We
will
see…
(2003)
............................................................
Love is… Love
by Romar A. Pabustan
I have nothing.
Nothing to say,
say not even a bit about,
about what is real love.
Other says” love
is blind,
is incurable,
and is powerful,”
Or sometimes they say,
“immeasurable,
sad,
gift,
or beautiful”
People are trying
Trying to give numerous definitions,
definitions of love
Love, but for what I fully met with love--
“love has simple clear meaning, but,
But its definition
could hardly tell by word;
Could hardly write;
and could hardly see,
However,
Love... love could
Only
define by feeling of love
itself.
( 2002)
.....................................................................
by Romar A. Pabustan
I have nothing.
Nothing to say,
say not even a bit about,
about what is real love.
Other says” love
is blind,
is incurable,
and is powerful,”
Or sometimes they say,
“immeasurable,
sad,
gift,
or beautiful”
People are trying
Trying to give numerous definitions,
definitions of love
Love, but for what I fully met with love--
“love has simple clear meaning, but,
But its definition
could hardly tell by word;
Could hardly write;
and could hardly see,
However,
Love... love could
Only
define by feeling of love
itself.
( 2002)
.....................................................................
Lesson Number One
By Romar A. Pabustan
I have a secret
that I want to repeat ,
A secret
that’s already known,
(But other ne’er be shown)
The best flower
of beauty, its power
and devotion,
(Nothing compares,)
called appreciation,
It cradles all the invisibles
(And mostly intangibles),
Like friendship,
camaraderie, family
and unity;
Like motivation,
Relationship and versatility,
All in all,
It has the prevailing ability.
(Yes) I know,
criticisms repair
a
somnolent
effort,
and mold up
the person’s life
companion,
(But) don’t forget
to appreciate
things made by the
specials (you)
done, this, solely for you….
Done not for other.
(Even little or unusual things,
remember that
Is good on your seeing)
If, necessary for him,
why not?
But
never use criticism
by means
of rejection….
Just bear in mind:
APPRECIATION
if he fails to feel
the real,
You and he would come into little
A slight extrication
Of relationship;
of partnership;
of companionship
Of friendship…
Being appreciative,
There’s
Sureness
of its
magic.
Lesson
number one,
for everyone.
(2004)
...............................................................
Sleeping Kirby
by Romar A. Pabustan
This moment is
Almighty wonderwork
For the happiest
people throughout our world,
For this time,
a long-time
has been waiting,
many time
had been expecting,
The coming
out from womb--
soon--
of my sister
A sprightly baby—an angelic baby
Yes! We named
that little tyke… Kirby
Though
Savoir-faire, I have nothing
This day
Would be
a red-lettered day,
Just I still hear Kirby
Crying.
My indelible poetry
would stay and
evince its feeling…
I’m watching
him over whiile sleeping
in haven
A sweet smile is bobbing
up with such omen
Like he would be one
of salt of earth after time
In any ground:
architecture, commerce, politics, education,
Or
Maybe
they
would
call him
“Paham”
I know one day this little Kirby,
Will read my very
first gift for him
My eloquent poem--
The perennial poesy--
is brave and with honesty
I will be waiting;
in the future coming,
Looking forward to see
A man named Kirby
(2005)
........................................................................
by Romar A. Pabustan
This moment is
Almighty wonderwork
For the happiest
people throughout our world,
For this time,
a long-time
has been waiting,
many time
had been expecting,
The coming
out from womb--
soon--
of my sister
A sprightly baby—an angelic baby
Yes! We named
that little tyke… Kirby
Though
Savoir-faire, I have nothing
This day
Would be
a red-lettered day,
Just I still hear Kirby
Crying.
My indelible poetry
would stay and
evince its feeling…
I’m watching
him over whiile sleeping
in haven
A sweet smile is bobbing
up with such omen
Like he would be one
of salt of earth after time
In any ground:
architecture, commerce, politics, education,
Or
Maybe
they
would
call him
“Paham”
I know one day this little Kirby,
Will read my very
first gift for him
My eloquent poem--
The perennial poesy--
is brave and with honesty
I will be waiting;
in the future coming,
Looking forward to see
A man named Kirby
(2005)
........................................................................
Oath of a Young Artist
by Romar Pabustan
This is my imagination
And no one has it the same
I must use it as a weapon of artistry
I must master it as I mastered my life
I will never be a culprit of art with others
Because all artists are my brothers and sisters
My imagination is my only help to embrace the world
My imagination is my key to be an epitome of self-expression
My imagination is my haven to appreciate virtues and wisdom
So help me God.
(2004)
..........................................................
by Romar Pabustan
This is my imagination
And no one has it the same
I must use it as a weapon of artistry
I must master it as I mastered my life
I will never be a culprit of art with others
Because all artists are my brothers and sisters
My imagination is my only help to embrace the world
My imagination is my key to be an epitome of self-expression
My imagination is my haven to appreciate virtues and wisdom
So help me God.
(2004)
..........................................................
The Misunderstood Misogynist
by Romar Pabustan
A man led off his life
With conviction for hatred of lady--
Like sister, mademoiselle, grandmother, and wife,
He really disgusted them to see.
He desperately made himself in seclusion,
It was a life he thought would be drawn,
A drawing of truth happiness or felicity--
Of absence of woman or hatred of lady.
Now the man with his belief became stronger,
With his compassion changed but into cruelty than ever,
But he never knew the effects and rules at the flipside,
That his misconception was deceiving on his sight,
Because he already fed his mind,
Which was overly supposed it was a rime…
Maybe he was hurt by someone,
So, he detested, especially women,
Or maybe his mother who nagged him,
Or sisters and neighbors who rubbed it in.
Maybe his appearance or talents or character,
Which was so different from the other.
Not until he felt loneliness with unblessed,
His life passed through a toil or mess…
No one could pay attention and interest to his words--
Perhaps, everyone just listened then, divorced--
Because his horizon believed was a brute,
They supposed he could take over himself without curb.
Then one day he went to a dreary place,
Where he taught deeply for his new phase,
Suddenly a girl with smile got near
And enveloped him with encouragement and sheen;
And talked over his problems;
And also revealed his rebels.
The girl made a beautiful view to him,
About the hatred of lady as a life damned.
She said “I have been there, too.
I have also believed, I could live without men like you,
And I thought I could do...”
And she added, “I thought it is a mere decision,
I realized it was really mysterious--
Fact but not opinion
And I put myself with.... of each, I ...
With all I.....”
The girl fled away, and he absorbed alone
And he finally understood everything with full glow
That everything was great grace of Almighty’
Even (like it or not) the pain was a gift and dignity,
For it would tell the right and wrong;
Weak and strong; or day or night where he belonged”
At the end, He, the misogynist, thought himself into new one,
Thought over himself to be a nicer man's woman
Stronger than ever, that no one could badly mold him again,
Believed it was all right, but then...
(2004)
by Romar Pabustan
A man led off his life
With conviction for hatred of lady--
Like sister, mademoiselle, grandmother, and wife,
He really disgusted them to see.
He desperately made himself in seclusion,
It was a life he thought would be drawn,
A drawing of truth happiness or felicity--
Of absence of woman or hatred of lady.
Now the man with his belief became stronger,
With his compassion changed but into cruelty than ever,
But he never knew the effects and rules at the flipside,
That his misconception was deceiving on his sight,
Because he already fed his mind,
Which was overly supposed it was a rime…
Maybe he was hurt by someone,
So, he detested, especially women,
Or maybe his mother who nagged him,
Or sisters and neighbors who rubbed it in.
Maybe his appearance or talents or character,
Which was so different from the other.
Not until he felt loneliness with unblessed,
His life passed through a toil or mess…
No one could pay attention and interest to his words--
Perhaps, everyone just listened then, divorced--
Because his horizon believed was a brute,
They supposed he could take over himself without curb.
Then one day he went to a dreary place,
Where he taught deeply for his new phase,
Suddenly a girl with smile got near
And enveloped him with encouragement and sheen;
And talked over his problems;
And also revealed his rebels.
The girl made a beautiful view to him,
About the hatred of lady as a life damned.
She said “I have been there, too.
I have also believed, I could live without men like you,
And I thought I could do...”
And she added, “I thought it is a mere decision,
I realized it was really mysterious--
Fact but not opinion
And I put myself with.... of each, I ...
With all I.....”
The girl fled away, and he absorbed alone
And he finally understood everything with full glow
That everything was great grace of Almighty’
Even (like it or not) the pain was a gift and dignity,
For it would tell the right and wrong;
Weak and strong; or day or night where he belonged”
At the end, He, the misogynist, thought himself into new one,
Thought over himself to be a nicer man's woman
Stronger than ever, that no one could badly mold him again,
Believed it was all right, but then...
(2004)
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