Knock, knock… knocking on your door
I am the traveler from the steppes beyond the moor
I bring news with me for you from the afar shore
Knock, knock… knocking on your door

fire an arrow and bring the sun down
that's how I learnt
the Red Indians brought the moon upon earth
and
now it at least shines
for half a month
so why not try it with the sun

half begun
any battle is half won
sun or no sun ,
the sojourn is on
blast it sorry,

WOLVES OF A KIND

From the hills numbed
by winter breeze
the wolves did come
to kill and feed..
and you
who hungered more
came scratching
at my door
to fill your need

.Alektorophobia is the fear of chickens-I got a cousin who gets all sweaty when within close distance to free-ranging hens when within close distance to free-ranging hens.

Biblophobia is the fear of books- imagine if everyone else in my school had this type of fear, i would have come up tops easily.

Bromidrosiphobia is the fear of body odour- I subscribe to this fear.

Gymnophobia is the fear of being naked- Imagine having a wife whose got this, you might as well go celibate!

for just a moment 
our love existed
then like a mist
it was gone

the sight of red roses growing
in backyards
remind me of the time
we spent together
and seared petals 
that bloomed to early
withered in the light

herbs thriving in drooping baskets 
from rooftops 
makes me think of you

prosperous veggies 
outside in the backyard
make me smile

the thing I missed the most
is your strong shoulders
taking me in your arms
carrying my weaken body 
into your palace

.
a wind of change within a heartbeat's thrum
will alter quite, if not destroy, a world
with unexpected loss in life's calm rhythm
into a dark abyss one can be hurled

a wind of change can also fairly flow
preparing us for life we know to come
allowing small acceptance-seeds to grow
declining in our turn, each one-by-one

but as those life-defining moments chime
some leaving gently, others all aflame
though winds of change are blowing all the time
all manages to somehow stay the same

Walking with my friends and kin
on another sultry summer day
quite a mess we've gotten in
yet we saw no other way

We've hiked too far from hearth and home
all the folks here sure talk strange
but we've miles left yet to roam
through wilderness and settled grange

We're not as many as at start
far too many have gone home
by chance chosen to depart
ending their part in this tome

TIGER’S HELL

A tiger has me in his teeth
sunken in my spine so deep
my world is his ,his is mine.
where he goes I go
places I don’t know
and never been
broken bones , torn skin.
no use to cry, no sense to yell
no one leaves tiger’s hell
his sleep is my peace
his death ,my release

If Spring came before Winter
if the sun hid in the noon
if the clouds rendered no showers
and the flowers neglected to bloom

if the hearts throbbed just for pennies
if for business, renown and gain
if no more fresh water ran for lilies
and fires couldn't flame again

if the stars became too dark
and trees' leaves in Spring fell
if the kids can no more lark
and only for coins we dwelled

Just then I shall cease a love true,
and say no more I could offer you.

The Path

by Noel Ikan Astillero, TSP/Vidya Lodge

09 June 2012, Manila

I was taught that a Path exists,

But to travel it, one has to read;

Volumes upon volumes of Theosophic lit,

They fill my Mind -

But after all: "Where is the Path?"

The Path is found, not in books,

But in Life.

The books suggest -

A truth one never knows exist

Until at last, Life tests it on the ground;

Then a lesson is learned

As one treads the ground.

It is not the number of books,

They say;