Friday, September 26, 2008

Our SMA Days
P.B.Robosa


We were young and we were free
we'd walk the gate and into the end
it looked old and bare but it was cheery
crawl through a hole, smelled the floor
cracked the old desk covered with scrawls

We're proud but we knew how to have fun
brave the horrors of the grotto under the moon
plant crops in the morn or haul sand in the sun
we'd jump the high window and bang the bell
stole fried bananas on sticks and cursed like hell

We pretend joy and we pretend sorrow
liked a storm on occasion but during summer
hated math and physics but the ballyhoo
said “Good Morning Miss”to a sour face
eyes strained reading but quick for a little lace

We were all yours as we were all there
said goodbye in the end but never lost touch
We return and sing “Hail, Dear Alma Mater”
Passed the make shift gate and the gray halls
We've had laughter, light and loved in these walls

Thursday, September 25, 2008

The Charge of the Horsemen at the Battle of Agdangan

Ahead! Down the hill the horses led
to rise again on another hillock
lit by the morning light the sun bled
and revealed to the enemy our attack

Ahead! The blue shirts advanced
and came the sound of rifles readied
disturbing the silence of the ground
drowning the charge of our steeds.

Charge! And we headed to the center
and fifty muzzles pointed to the riders
And the horsemen rode as if unaware
the guns loaded, fingers at the triggers

Crack! And a screen of smoke erupts
and our chests heaved with scarlet
we steadied, legs steeled to the stirrup
and then rolled down, giving in, death.

Like leaves we fall on desolate ground
plucked from flowers to be transplanted
no glory, no monuments to be found
amidst faith and longings unrewarded.

I was born into the love of a happy home
and heart gladdened by the wakening land
rearing to be free to trace its destiny alone
To draw paradise on earth with my hand

To ends that God, History point the way
the way of peace, and pride, and purpose
ends songs are wrought and heroes made
ends where lives are gave and joys repose

I, to boundless hope these ends followed
bearing honor, life, and my soul unafraid
bearing it for all the countless tomorrows
for my end, my home and sweet tender grave