Poems 101


By G. Burce Bunao


The tree was very beautiful to me

When I was a boy

I climbed for fruit or out of a branch of the tree

Made me a toy--

A top, for instance, that spun around, carefree

And wound for joy

Until it toppled over and was dead.

No longer the boy,

I find the tree as beautiful as though not

Just for branch

Or a bunch of fruit but-more than that-for a bed

Or to fence the ranch

In which I raise the beasts that fill the pot

In the many shapes

My simple commerce turn them to like bread

Or fish or grapes

To feed the brood the little woman me.

There go the boys.

Go watch them, strong limb; spread up the tree,

They pluck their toys

Out of its branches, as out of my childhood tree

I shaped my joys.



“Every little thing that happens in our childhood is somewhat memorable. It makes us smile every time we reminisce to those memories. This poem is also pertaining to the joys of the children while playing in the tree. Those moments still remains every time a child see the tree that becomes a part of their lives.”




By R. Vinzons Asis


I remembered God and I came

asking bread, became

tearfully insistent, heard

only ringing hunger: no word


So I left, cursing

but the thunder of my words

were as raindrops falling.


Saw God in my hunger:

heard his voice ringing

in my ears; saw the beauty

of his silence.


“Wishes are always asked by people. Like in this poem wishes are not been given right away. We need to wait for those wishes, because there is always a right time for all. It doesn’t really mean that if our wish is not given right away, we are taking for granted. God knows the right time that is good for us. We don’t need to rush everything. Remember that there is something better when we are waiting patiently.”




By Tita Lacambra-Ayala


If truth is real

it will

become true


If truth is

unreal it will

not become


as you

are truth

as you are real

you will

become true

if not to me

at least to your self


at least to the part

that’s real

to me when I

touch you


“The author’s feeling seems to be hurt. Maybe his fiancé is being dishonest. The poem is very true, that in a relationship it is right that we need to be true, not only for the person that we love but especially for our own self. Being true and honest is the foundation of all relationship.”




kan Eduardo Makabenta


Magpapakaruruyag ngan pinili,

burak ngan tsampaka, marol nga hamili,

rosas, asusenas. Rosal nga mahambot

ngan nagangalimwag sa hangin talambot,

an ira alimyon abot ha hirayo…

Magpakawiwili nga bukad ha Mayo.


Bukad nga kadam’an luob an at’ tuna,

magpakabibihag ha panhunahuna,

may walingwaling ngan may mga manan-aw

nga makalipay ha mata pagtan-aw

may sangyaw, may diri, may masarayo,

magdamit Malaya, di’ bukad ha Mayo.


Inin tarukanga nga labi kahayaw

ha pagkakaaga daw na naparayaw,

bis’an kalatsutsi, bisan surangga,

may hamo’t may dagway nga sadang ibangga:

di’na mapakadto lain nga ibayo,

damo an bukad ta ha bulan ha Mayo.


Magpakadilain nga kabukaranan,

di na kinahangalan ngatanan ngaranan;

may bukad hin kahoy, may bukad nga buhi

nga say rayandayan hinin kinabuhi;

bukad nga nasunog sugad han kalayo,

hinin kasingkasing, kun bulan ha Mayo.


“Every month of May, there is what we called “Flores de Mayo.” These are done by beautiful ladies walking and they have used different flowers for their arko and for their bouquet. Flowers to be used are selected carefully. They symbolize many things and selecting the right flower becomes more attractive to the judgemental eyes of the people watching it. It also gives beauty to the lady that uses the flower as her design in her arko. The beauty of those flowers that we have seen during the month of May is really priceless.”




Salvador B. Espinas


Love is gentle, love is quiet

Like any distant star

Love is beauty, love is music

Soothing as night winds are.


Love is patient and unselfish

Divine, true, neutral, fair –

Love is ageless and immortal,

Lost love is just somewhere


And the heart that abandons,

Nurses a tender scar,

Softly stabbing, and yet sweetly

Soothing as night winds are.


“Love is unconditional. You can never predict what love is. Love can make things go right and beast will turning to a Good Samaritan”




Soledad R. Juan


Speak not to me of great reception halls

Where stately ladies walk with stately men;

Speak not to me of dancing long at balls

Nor revelry till goodness knows but when.

I would not hear of how an endless round

Of parties, concerts, shows-all the rest forgot-

Is heaven. No, those pleasures find me bound;

They are not mine to taste-I know them not.

But speak to me of quiet, calm repose,

When I may think and give my thoughts free play,

Explore each nook imagination knows,

And roam the world a million times a day.

Then shall my soul find joyful hours alone

When all is mine that Fancy bids me own.


“ This poem was written by a teen-aged girl who was bound to a sickbed all he life, and yet she did not find her life monotonous and boring. Many people measure enjoyment in terms of “ a good time”. They welcome their vacation as one long opportunity foe a good time, and they dread nothing more than being sick in bed.”  




Amador T. Daguio


I am lover of quietness-

Unechoed songs within a silent heart,

A sliver pond, a statued loveliness

Where words can take no part.


I love the quiet ways of memory,

The quiet looks to give you loving praise,

The quiet secrets of my misery

Through quiet nights and days.


The quiet mountains of the earth I love,

The moving clouds, the sun, the dewy leaf.

My quiet questioning o God above,

My quite, tearless grief



“City people are bombarded by noise. The numble of trucks passing, the screech of the brakes, the blare of radios and jukeboxes forever blast our ears. To a person who spends days and nights in the noisy city, the longing for quiet and serenity is understandable”


Photograph: Father and kids at home
ni Imelda Morales Aznar


There is no balance in composition: all three persons
are pushed to the left, and on the right
only the water meter, mailbox, and the number 17
in your delicate handwriting near the doorway.
My sister stands wearing a naughty grin

and a pendant of the crucified Christ over her shirt.
My year-old nephew is sitting in his carriage, buckled
at the waist. His tiny, white toes alert.
In the background, the steel gate
of your sister’s house looms gray.

Yet like a child you sit on your haunches,
both hands clutching the pram’s handle bars.
And your whole face smiles
like the world is yours.


“Family that prays together stays forever”






Sweet are the hours in one's native land,

Where all is dear the sunbeams bless;

Life-giving breezes sweep the strand,

And death is softened by love's caress.


Warm kisses play on mother's lips,

On her fond, tender breast awaking

When round her neck the soft arm slips,

And bright eyes smile, all love partaking.



“This poems states all the memorable experiences that the writer want to share. It shows also shows one of the great characters of Dr. Jose Rizal and his true appreciation to his land and great love to our country and to his countrymen.”




Guillermo V. Sison


Raise our flag and hail it proudly,

Keep it there and guard it bravely,

See it waving in the sun;

Hail the symbol and the flower

Of our people's pomp and power,

See it's grandeur in the sun.


In its colour is the story

Writ in blood of dead men's glory-

Fly it for our martyred brave;

In our dreams we will remember,

In our breasts will grow forever,

All the valor of our brave.


Where are all the hands that held it,

Lips of fire that kissed and hailed it

in balintawak's first cry?

Where are those who died defending

Tirad Pass, their flag up holding,

Flashing it against the sky?


Here we are, the young and daring,

Ready with the country sharing

Sharing in the love of flag;

Here we are beneath its shadow,

Soul undaunted. True to follow

Valiantly our country's flag.


Drape our flag about our bosom

Warmly, till in us will blossom

Flame for our beloved land;

Breathe on it our burning spirit,

Bless it with our life, defend it

With a bold, heroic hand.


Let the flag, as fire to weld us,

Bind our fibres firmly, make us

Strong, invincible, and all

Thus united we shall flourish,

From the earth we shall not perish

Our young nation shall not fall.


Holy flag of God's fair country,

Flag of hope and faith and glory,

Holy Filipino flag!

Be in peace our inspiration,

Guiding gleam and veneration,

Radiant Filipino flag!


Wave, O flag, o'er farms of golden

Grain; o'er mountains, fields,


O'er this paradise of peace!

We will work with warmer passion,

Build our dreams a living tension,

Grow in God's sweet light and peace.


Flag that loosed us our serfdom;

Flag that gave us morning, freedom;

Lead our race, the the brown and free!

None shall haul thee down and trample

On our freedom's sacred temple,

None shall slave again the free!


“In this poem, it states that our flag is one of the most important treasures of our country, because it reminds us to the fight of every Filipino and all of the heroes who dedicate their lives for freedom. It reminds us to the true meaning of freedom, unity and love for our country.”




Virginia B. Licuanan


A messenger from the Spaniards came

That day in fifteen twenty-one;

He came in in Magellan's name

To the island of Mactan.

To Lapulapu who was the chief

That on Mactan did reign

He said “I ask in our leader's name

A tribute name for the king of Spain.”

“A tribute for a foreign king?”

He heard proud Lapulapu say.

“Tell your leader not tell a thing

Will the of this island pay.


“We and their fathers before

Have on this island live:

We owe no tribute to any king,

And no tribute shall we give.”


“if you do not give what we ask”

Was the messenger's reply

“The Spaniards will come with swords and guns

And you and your men shall die.”


“If they have guns,”Lapulapu said,

“So have we our weapons too;

If the Spaniard to our island come,

They shall see what bamboo spears can do.


“The Spaniards sword are made for steel

And their armors are strong and bright

Against all weapons we shall win

While we are in the right.”


Lapulapu's eyes flashed as he repeated ,

And his voice did proudly ring:

“We are freemen and will pay

No tribute to a foreign king.”



When Magellan heard Lapulapu words

He said with all disdain

“How dare this little chief affront

His Majesty of Spain.


“Our guns and this man's

False pride will break,

If he will not tribute give,

Then tribute we will take.


Well show this chief that our words

We can follow with our deed

Prepare three ships and sixty men

And I myself will lead.

For the island of Mactan

The Spaniards did set sail,

Their and swords are in great display

To make the enemy quail.

Their ships and armor were glittering show

Of military might

Never had the peaceful Mactan waters,

Mirror was a warlike sight

And when they anchored dropped

Off the palm-fringed Mactan shore ,

“I'll teach this chief a lesson,:

The Spanish leader swore

He lead his soldier to the beach

In full battle array.

“My men, for our king ' Magellan said

“Let us make this a proud day.”


We have guns and armor

Our enemy has none

Our sword against those bamboo spears.

The fight as good as won.


But Lapulapu stood proudly

As the Spanish drew near

“No Spaniards armor

Will save them from my spears.


“Aim true !” he told his men

“when your spears fling

Remember the freemen do not bow

To any foreign king.


Steel sword against bamboo spears

It seemed an uneven fight

And the Spanish armor

Increased each Spaniard might.

But Lapulapu and his brave men

Into the battle led

And soon the blue-green Mactan waters

With the Spaniard blow red

“Fight on my men “Magellan cried

“Fight for gracious Majesty.......”

“Fight on ,men in Mactan.”Lapulapu said,

“Fight for our liberty.


: The Cause of the Liberty lent more strength

Than the Spanish steel and lead

And soon Magellan lay dying ,

And his soldiers all had fled.

And Mactan is an island

That lives in history

Where man brave men died for a king

And another lived for liberty.


“The story of our past would not be complete if we leave out the story of our struggle for freedom. The poem that followed shows vivid glimpse of our fight for liberty. The historical account of arrival of Magellan and Lapu-lapu fought to keep our country from foreign rule.”




Natividad Marquez


Little sampaguita

With the wondering eye

Did a tiny fair

Drop you where you lie?


In the witching hour

Of the tropic night

Did the careless moonbeam

Leave you in its fight?



“As a child you must have looked for the tiny buds as the early rain began to fall. You probably watched this buds develop into a flower which perfumes the air. The sampaguita is tiny and fragrant. We use to make leis with which to greet our friends who come to visits us.”