The Literary Bumpkin's Blog

Words are a tide leaving behind, parting away, goodbye, this bleakest shore—  all those wandering verses in mind I spoke words of  loudest glee in silent waters echoes verses  in the alphabet  of my reticence. my thoughts, dear penetrated deeper the whispers of my heart— bleeding poetry  as it drags  all our precious  summer days how poor indeed are the choicest words to kiss the traces of our  passing days where the suns, and ebony sky the silver stars and the rosy moons  held us up  divide us never. . . yet how rich are we to dwell in the bounty of  His grace— where our tears  and beams; our joy and pain perfectly hugs the number of our days. I heart you to the happy moons in six!  Jez

Good works involve two important concepts, namely "good" and "works". The former concept, implies at least two things--quality and standard; the latter concept denotes a phenomenon or a product. Hence, when these two terms are collocated or combined, its meaning becomes "a phenomenon whose quality is based on a standard". Therefore, the quality of good works is not relative, much less arbitrary; it is God-defined.  A question might be broached, "What then is good works, theologically?" Limme cut to the chase, any work that does not proceed from a regenerated heart or from faith, is no good work at all. To borrow the Apostle Paul's words, "What is not done in faith is SIN" (See Rom 14:23). An unbeliever, say for example, may commit charitable acts on the surface, such supposed deeds, anyhow, when considered in its entirety (including its quality, motives and purpose) drastically fall short from the "works" th...

Let me have my  abode in you— in the deepest  part of your skin,  in every grain of your being; let me cling to  your heart,  your belly,  chin, legs, hands,  and all your parts only in your death will I die keeping your blood always up high: in a word, i am eternally married with you— the day you chose to live the day you delighted to feed the hunger of your  flesh — Your Fats

If I will to take pains counting the remaining days with patient eyes, it will just run slower like a turtle moves away backward from the horse that runs forward

mourning clouds rain sunk deepest 'tis a valentine storm

Keep my heart poor As beggar that bends his knees and pleas for grace before Thy glorious door For if only in our distress We could prize Thee better then to hug the ashes of our ruins but love Thee more--- than to feast upon our wealth and forget Thee, Lord.

Sa pag-idlip ng araw Mula sa bigat ng dinaraan Pagkawala ko’y Balikat ko sa bawat minutong paghakbang Pinalampas ng taon mapanglaw na himig ng aking mga nota Pagkataon ko’y sampal sa pagtalaga ng aking tunay na musika Hanggang sa pagkaway at pamaalam ng Septyembre Batid ko ang liwayway ng sampong araw ng Octobre: Dama ko ang labis na pagsinta Galak at saya . . . Sa wakas di na ako mag-iisa! :’( Dinalaw ng pag-ibig mo kanlungan ng lungkot sa damdamin ko. Buhay . . . sa pintuan ay nagbukas tila nakalimutan ko ang pagdalaw ng undas Dumating ang Disyembre malungkot na karaawan; di mo ko binate sa harap ng karamihan Muling binalikan Pangamba ng nakaraan. Ako’y sobrang nasaktan. . . Gayunma’y mahal pa rin kita kahit sa paglimot mo sa Enero Sinulatan ng tula sa labis na pagkabalisa: “Di mo namalayang sa paggising mo’y  palubog na ako  kaya ‘tong hiram na liwanag ko’y babalik ko na sayo nang magkagayo’y  pagkabukas o ngayon ‘tong...

you were just a hue  of his solemn revery  a woman clothed  in the abstracts  too good to be true  ideal in every way  you were just  this little boy's wish,  his dreamt Utopia  the edge of his hope  the faith of his heart,  the opposite  of his doubt  you were not less  than everything for him  For you were his unreached ambition,  his worthy fascination;  his unplumbed deep  his somnolent orbs. .  a prisoner long  had he been  of love's a prison bars  his introvert's passion  the soul's crib of consolation...  Miss, you were the only person who made him  savor the tune of silence;  never despise thyself.  Btw, He never misses your absence

you're so far away. . . you're so costly for a poor lad to buy a glimpse of your shadow. If he could sell himself a slave a penny or two to barter his years with a blink of your daylight no doubt would he have long ere paid half of his breath to extend a second til beckoned by the summon of death. this disheveled, ambitious boy just want to gape at your countenance and it'd suffice him for all time even if your summer visits no more his winter gaze you would forever linger in the quiet times of his thoughts; you'll be deeply missed. :( 

If I get to ask her for whom her love is meant is it for me or for her grown-up kitten? her brisk retort i knew what it would be... "Well, it cats both ways."