tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61874479292878095512023-11-15T22:07:12.783-08:00LifeFactsA path set aside for walking along with our accomplishments, struggles and hopes.Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-51349498696242668742020-09-30T07:37:00.003-07:002020-09-30T07:37:50.386-07:00Sailing with You<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6DRw9sbHrwjWmvIBKN2s-9HQo6h12ht2qpxPd5AAxIpjiDM2k1w03vhaNUKEt6dYJlnN3zO4vjUvKI4-nlvlhiSVrVtp58wc8ek9rv1BtX_LwPdOwBY4J55GAyO6Dpl98mwiFJI1M6o/s2048/Sailing+With+You+%2528Design%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1448" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6DRw9sbHrwjWmvIBKN2s-9HQo6h12ht2qpxPd5AAxIpjiDM2k1w03vhaNUKEt6dYJlnN3zO4vjUvKI4-nlvlhiSVrVtp58wc8ek9rv1BtX_LwPdOwBY4J55GAyO6Dpl98mwiFJI1M6o/w328-h305/Sailing+With+You+%2528Design%2529.jpg" width="328" /></a></div><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sailing with You<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">(Sonnet Form)<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By: Noel N.
Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b>September 30, 2020</b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We sailed along
the rhythmic crashing waves<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Strong and
brave, we have embraced destiny<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Eyes on horizon,
watched the sea behaves<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Our composure traced
on its melody<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The wind has lashed
and symphony started<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We held our
hands as waves cradled the night<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The sky has showed
the stars and we charted<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Our journey finds another
morning light<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As boat swayed
at the mercy of the wind<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We sent devout prayers,
faith, and submission<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Where all
chaotic path branched out unkind<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With water fine
spray, increased our vision<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A beautiful
infinite happiness<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To carry us back
to shore with calmness</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></p><p>
Anniversary Poem for my wife on December 16, 2020.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Posted in Poetrysoup.com</div><br /><p></p>Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-57112148223704219712020-09-18T07:12:00.000-07:002020-09-18T07:12:10.009-07:00Gentleman Muffin<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9eNe0oVkgxlojugTrTiyvNErkQQygXjNH2HomDGIg6xyvjYEQDElBsIJJ516hgyO0kaCn11L8hI3ustTNYV4lnjzK8jjUy_9W4n80aKeIHhvLMyZo8PJnEJIDjo_KCwJEkx8I7UN4r0/s825/Muffin+Face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="825" data-original-width="638" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF9eNe0oVkgxlojugTrTiyvNErkQQygXjNH2HomDGIg6xyvjYEQDElBsIJJ516hgyO0kaCn11L8hI3ustTNYV4lnjzK8jjUy_9W4n80aKeIHhvLMyZo8PJnEJIDjo_KCwJEkx8I7UN4r0/w309-h400/Muffin+Face.jpg" width="309" /></a></div>Photo Credit: Pio Noel B. Villarosa<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><h2 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> <span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Gentleman Muffin</span></span></h2><h2 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">(Sonnet - personification poem)<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">16 September 2020</span></span></h2>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro", sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Gentleman muffin wearing monocle</span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">My mustache never been out of fashion<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Never thought bringing out my chronicle<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Jockeyed searching my perfect companion<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I dreamed becoming morning glory muffins<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Howbeit fate is in the hands of the baker<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Throws old ingredients, I’m huffing and puffing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Bread maker made me sweeter, ampler power<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Window dresser puts me on display case<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A lonely bun lying in wooden racks<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">A glace domed cake, no one blowing my face<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> With
nightfall comes, only got aching back<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> Can I
still witness my dawning rapture?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">With people lining up to shoot my picture<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Source Sans Pro",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Posted also: poetrysoup.com </span></p></blockquote><p></p>Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-28176666347071294322020-05-24T02:36:00.003-07:002020-05-24T02:38:53.345-07:00The Clown of Santo Cristo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOTicUhn9I8tfiJ_6-VJqLWMM1UFrTRkj_PGSigAoPcgZjNzC0c2Recvn1YY92GUjbr3tRQ18Djo4aTL9h0R-BdkCD1dEJ9FtR8ziEgtQwV0PNoEoTp0jlQcez7l0FR4Of6qtZEX76w8/s1600/Clown+Image+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1375" data-original-width="1063" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFOTicUhn9I8tfiJ_6-VJqLWMM1UFrTRkj_PGSigAoPcgZjNzC0c2Recvn1YY92GUjbr3tRQ18Djo4aTL9h0R-BdkCD1dEJ9FtR8ziEgtQwV0PNoEoTp0jlQcez7l0FR4Of6qtZEX76w8/s400/Clown+Image+picture.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>The Clown of </b><span style="background: white; color: #333333;"><b>Santo Cristo</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">By: Noel N.
Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">30 December
2019<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He had
feared that sadness will take away lives. As if timber chopped down to the
ground, young and old have gone in a hopeless fighting on the brink of death. In
his simple mind, he was curious on how to make people enjoy life. He was always wearing a contagious smile that
communicates to everyone to confront fears and turn it into a good possibility.
Wherever he went, he witnessed hardships, conflicts, devastations, and loss.
Sometimes it echoed close to his ears, “find a lost soul and bring him/her back
to real home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Clown
of Santo Cristo was literally not a clown gestured with baggy clothes, large
shoes and a big nose. He was not a clown to perform funny faces and movements
but contoured himself to liberate someone from distressing situation. He was
not for theatrical but most often visible on residential, parks, hospital, and
graveyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Clown
of Santo Cristo grew up in a conflict-torn place with different religious
views. He usually preferred to stay locked up in his room when everybody was arguing;
he tried to avoid caught between crossed fires of debates. One thing that
changed his way of thinking was the cry of every child battered by
conflicts—shocked and traumatized by the restless gunfire. He promised that he
would be a constant companion should one need to be heard and comforted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When there
were moments when people were running, he immediately understood the heartbeat
of fear and their eyes were telling that a danger awaits. His presence will
always listen to stories, no need to dictate on what else to be done, he simply
needs to be there to help heal the flaw and fickle of time. The test of the
first instance to prove his compassion for helping others was when he saw a
small child desperate to reach with all his will the toy that has fallen in the
drainage. He held the child’s one hand and his hand served as an extension until
the child reached his beloved toy. The child displayed an overwhelming joy when
he retrieved his toy, the smile reflected his complete satisfaction. From that
day on, the clown has promised that he will peek through darkness to scatter
light like sunlight giving new breath in life even for just a moment before
they realize that suffering like waves never stop coming that they will need to
row gently. The clown promised that he will help assuage their pain, to provide
his shoulders to cry on, to make them laugh in the face of insults,
disappointments, and threats. To scream out loud their agony, in able them to
release their feelings for he believed that tomorrow has still a rainbow to
glimpse on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sto. Cristo was once a quiet and serene
place had now become a battlefield between government forces and the extremist
group. At a young age, the little clown was with other kids spreading joy and a
feeling of belongingness in the backdrop of violence. The little clown would be
their tour guide for safety and away of threatening danger. The little clown
succeeded in bringing the oppressed back to the normal world of reverie and
amusement. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown grew up with empathy and
responsibility to human beings. As proof of his extraordinary traits, some have
lived to tell his great exploits. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The air suffused by the smell of gun powder
and abandoned cadaver. It was a sign that the prolonged war has ended which has
to proceed in embarking to a journey of new life. But what is left was
unimaginable, with so much devastation not only to property but also in many
innocent lives. <br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The missing children.</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> The wrath of war left many families separated
and lost from their loved ones. On the occasion of celebrating the feast of the
patron saint of Sto. Cristo, the clown saw a small gathering of parents, being
curious and well known for his being friendly and a habit of mingling with the
crowd, he found out that those parents were grieving for their missing
children. The clown immediately assessed the situation and gathered whatever
information he could use in finding those children. One thing he assured that
those children were still alive and just being somewhere displaced. The clown
was mostly visible in public places showing the pictures of the missing
children. Before the day ends, he passed by a convent who do voluntary work for
charity. He met Sister Anita. Sister Anita was in charge of teaching catechism
for children. Sister Anita has the admiration for the wonders of the world that
she feared of war and when asked how she handles children desperately seeking for
a true family—she honestly will say, “I always pray for them and offer my arms
for their protection.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown had showed to Sister Anita the
pictures of all the missing children. “Did you get a chance to meet one of these
children?” the clown asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sister Anita shrugged her shoulders and
said, “Sorry sir, I have little recollection of the many faces of children whom
I met, but if ever I will see any of them, I will inform you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I hope you’ll be able to recognize one of
them, as their parents were desperately longing for them for a long time now,” the
clown pleaded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sister Anita made assurance to the clown
and replied, “Let me tell you one occurrence that happened many times. One day,
as I was with other nuns and not dressed in our religious insignia, as we were
having a light saunter in the park, a lady noticed us and asked if we were all godly
sisters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Surprised by her asking, I asked on how she
figured it out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“The lady replied that she observed how we
comported ourselves with dignity and grace at that moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Invigorated by her admiration to nuns, I
thanked the lady, many people will approach us in many ways—be it for help or
spiritual guidance, so in many cases, we are always in touch with people and
somehow we could gather some information about the missing children.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">As Sister Anita walked the cloister, the
clown felt something deeper to know in her personality, a challenge to explore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sister Anita decided to take her
habitation in a more secluded place where she confided when spiritual impasse
aroused. She spent in silence, lauded and venerated God every morning. She was
mostly could be seen in every corner of the street to proselytize one’s
particular faith.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown visited the police station. He
encountered the blotter section of the police station intermixed with different
class of people, mostly low class citizen being the complainant or being
accused of the crime. The most unpleasant to see were those juvenile being
abused by some lawless element of the society. Some teenagers were involved in
some troubles or handled by syndicate to be an accomplice of the crime. The
clown approached the officer in charge of the blotter section and saw the thick
leather-bound record book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I am following up the case of the missing
children, any latest case update?” the clown politely asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The police officer opened his notebook and
replied, “From time to time, parents were insisting to give them information,
but we still don’t have a substantial evidence that will lead to their
whereabouts.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The precinct’s phone was ringing off the
hook and another visitor arrived that loaded more concerns to the officer in
charge. The clown left the precinct and visited house to house on children’s
parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown addressed his questioning with
one mother, “When was the last time you saw your child?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It was 3 in the afternoon and she was
playing outside, I was gazing at her but in that brief moment that I checked
what I was cooking, upon return my child suddenly lost at my sight. I searched
around but she was nowhere to be found,” the mother replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown made his way to another parent’s
house and asked the same question. The mother replied, “My daughter was in the
school and when I went to pick her up, she did not show up, even her teacher failed
to give me a clear information.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">While most of the missing children were
gone mysteriously, there was one child confessed openly by the parents had run
away and sulked somewhere else. The mother pleaded to the clown to search for
her missing child, “Please help us to search for our child who was gone
missing, I felt that it was not normal for our child to go on prolonged sulk,
she should be coming back on her own accord. I have already informed my friends
and relatives that my child had run away, and if by chance they would see her
to notify me rather than thinking she was out and about. I hope my child stayed
with a friend or close relatives just for hanging out to vent.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown had finished his interview with
the parents and gathered information which could be useful in his quest for the
missing children. The clown took a deep whiff of the morning wind. The clown
knew that Law Enforcement will shun the use of divination. The clown was always
motivated to help others by any means and for him it was highly regarded the
effectiveness of map dowsing where the laws of physics was applied with proper
harboring of important details of date, time, and geographical location—the
missing person could be located using the Y-shaped twig or two L-shaped metal
rods. The clown claimed no magical power but it all comes down to his
intuition. It has become habitual for
the clown to be attached the soil. The clown loved sitting on the ground or
walked barefooted to allow those negatively charged free electrons to enter his
body. The clown used to interact between the electro-magnetic fields under the
earth and through his blood to connect with a thing or living things that
released energy fields. He used the traditional Y-shaped twig and his intuition
to absorb the positive energies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown held his Y-shaped twig and as the
motion of the pointer or changes in direction was supposedly in response to
what he asked during the process of dowsing, it will either flick up as a ‘yes’
response or flick down as a ‘no’ response. The clown mostly had seen wandering
around from the children’s house as starting point to see the turns and twists
of the twig. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown asked questions while holding
the Y-shaped twig, “Is this the path that will lead to the missing children?”
The twig flicked in positive response. The clown asked the right questions that
will lead to the right answers. In just following the trail dictated by the
twig, the search ended up in a curved road with copse and big trees obscuring
the view ahead. The clown decided to continue his search for the next morning
as darkness will make his search impossible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown made his way to the hospital for
someone to visit. As he passed along the emergency ward, he saw Sister Anita
which seemed to be in anger and arguing to the hospital staff, as the clown
moved farther away to the ward, he thought that it was normal for a nun to
become angry sometimes. The following
day, the clown visited the convent and met with Sister Anita—he greeted her and
asked if she had a chance to see one of the missing children. Sister Anita in
that particular instance had shown irrational behavior, she was abruptly
processing opinion which has become perplexed and her rapid speech was hard to
understand. The clown had noticed that Sister Anita had sudden outrage and
becoming more short-tempered during her disquisition. The clown politely left
the convent and went house to house for each children’s place to repeat the
same procedure of using the dowsing technique, he wanted to confirm if it will
lead to the same curved road with copse and big trees. All he knew was his
intuition was properly communicating with the energy that surrounded him. The
first, second, and the next to the last house all led him to the curved road.
The clown decided to do the last retracing of the children’s footsteps. The
clown went to the flea market to buy something. Along the stall of used
clothes, the clown managed to see Sister Anita with a handful of used clothes
where she was haggling to swap into new sizes of clothes and shoes. The clown
was puzzled as to where the nun would be sharing it. The next morning, the
clown continued his dowsing among the last batch of houses, the trail still led
him to the curved road. The clown forged ahead into the dense forest. He had
his twig confirming which way to go. After a long trek, the clown reached a bamboo
hut which was dotted around big trees. The clown furtively moved closer into
the hut, he heard an adult female voice, “This clothes for you, this shoes for
you, put them on to bring out a glam on you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Then a young voice replied from inside,
“Thank you, Sister Anita, this is a lovely dress.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Only I cared for all of you,” the adult
female responded. The clown suspected that the one young voice was not alone
but with someone else. The adult female spoke again, “Outside is no longer
safe, only within these four walls of the hut is your safe haven, there is
still a war outside, your parents might have abandoned you and they might have
died from crossfire and heavy bombardment. I will provide everything just
believe in me and don’t go outside as the militant group may take you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">From behind the bamboo walls, the clown
peeped through the slats and saw the one behind that adult female voice—it was
Sister Anita. The clown was mystified as what he had witnessed, the searched
ended right there and he could not find answer as what impelled Sister Anita to
take into custody those children without their parent’s consent. The whole
cosmic marvel of time and reality was now at the mercy of the clown’s perfect
timing for rescuing those children. The clown waited until Sister Anita left
the place. At that moment, the clown thought of ways to convince those children
that he would do no harm but will rescue them from Sister Anita. When Sister
Anita had left, the clown immediately entered the hut and convincingly talked
to the children, “I have come to save you from Sister Anita, she is not in the
right mind to hold you captive here, your parents are looking for you, they are
all still alive contrary as to what Sister Anita has told you, let me bring you
all back home.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">One child refused to obey, “We don’t know
you, may be you are one of those bad person who killed our parents.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown showed one picture of that child
with her mother beside her, “This is your mother, she just talked to me and
asked me to bring you back to her.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The child felt sincerity over the clown’s persuasion,
then cried and embraced the clown. All other children now believed the clown
and they gathered around the clown as their rescuer. The clown managed to
handle the situation, he led the children out from the hut and into the trek
covered by dense forest. When they reached the main road, the clown asked for a
ride from a passing truck. All the children safely hopped in the truck for a
ride to their place. The clown gave the children candies as his simple treats.
The brainwashing of Sister Anita created a psychological impact on these
children--on the way home, the clown was touched seeing those innocent and
tuckered out children. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The children reunited to their parents and
it was an overwhelming joy that gleamed on each face. The clown reported the
egregious deception and shenanigans of Sister Anita. The clown through profound
investigation about Sister Anita had discovered that she was suffering from schizoaffective disorder.
The very reason she had shown irrational emotions and behaviors with series of
depression and mania. She could not control being in the state of feeling great
she do not want to end, repeatedly denying of any problems that exists,
harbored in her mind that life shall always be wonderful. Sister Anita was
lovely and sympathetic but deep in her personality was an awful secret that
harbors guilt and seclusion. The Correctional Institution for Women had taken
into custody Sister Anita and from there she underwent medication and
psychotherapy that can help manage her mania disorder. The authority disclosed
the case as solved--the clown considered it as one moment to be collected among
odd facts and feats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: #dddddd; color: #333333;"><br />
</span><b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
Sickly Child. </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
clown visited a town known for its vast green sanctuary garden for growing
different kinds of culinary herbs. It was a cloudy morning while he walked in
the drizzling rain, damping his skin over a chilling atmosphere. He came across
a child looking out of the window and had a soften smile on his face as if
longing for someone. The clown held up his head and put his best smile to show
his presence. The clown greeted the child with his one hand held up waiving to
the child. The child responded with a smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It looks like the rain will still going
strong, can I take shelter inside your house,” the clown asked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The door creaked open, and a grinning
mother welcomed him to come in. The clown introduced himself to the lady and
opened up his concern to the child, “Your son looks like lonely and feeling
lost.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The lady responded, “He lost his dear cat
all of a sudden, I just lighten up his mood by saying that his cat might have
stuck high up on a tree and was afraid to come down. But my little boy just
fell into silence and depression. I felt that it was like his first encounter
with death of a loved pet which he considered as part of the family. He felt
heartbroken in losing his cat. He remembered his cat to greet him first in the
morning and his first to look for comfort and companionship when feeling sad. He
felt guilty as he failed to keep his cat safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I would like to help your child go through his grieving process, do you
have a picture of his cat, and maybe I could help in searching,” the clown
insisted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In response to the kind offer of the clown, the mother accepted his
offer and gave him the picture of the cat. “My little boy fondly called him
‘Kurt,’ the master of communication,” the mother continued.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Right then and there it seemed so clear for the clown the rush of finding
the cat. The faint smile that the boy projected was all he could think of. So
eager that the clown moved from place to place for searching, he come across a
garden full of catnip that all he knew for certain that cats will respond
through inhalation of its chemical called Nepetalactone. It was capturing the
cat’s attention that creates a feeling of euphoria that they will intend to
stay on that place. While analyzing the facts, the clown decided to enter the
garden, it was an antique garden, the right place to ponder. The plants grown
there led to sneaky suspicion that might reveal that someone has something to
do with the disappearance of the boy’s cat. The formless doubt begun to form a
clear picture when from the slightly opened door showed some lab animals for
medical research and some like furry animals being stuffed with foam or wool.
The clown believed that the occupants were a taxidermist and were selling the
mounted animals to museum including hunting trophies. The clown heard from
another room the sound of meows and purrs which dragged his feet to enter the
room, and he saw different kinds of cats being encaged, just enough to
recognize one cat which belong to the boy. The clown immediately took hold the
situation and slowly grabbed the cat in his arms and rushed outside. The clown
excitedly returned the cat to the boy which brought happiness to the boy. The
clown reassured to the boy that his cat will no longer roam somewhere as he
promised to plant in their backyard the catnip plants. Every day, the boy could
offer the fresh leaves to his cat to stimulate lively feeling. Aside from this,
the clown also built a cat-friendly litter box to meet the cat’s needs. The
clown also set up a puzzle feeder to integrate playtime and putting treats
inside the puzzle as a reward to his cat. Before heading to another place, the
clown left a good advice to the boy, “Since your cat is a master of
communication, you should always understand his body language as a way of
communication, and you should know when he wants to play or whether he wants to
be left alone, it will create strong bond of trust between you and the cat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown had reported to the authority the garden place having a taxidermy
business and lab animals. It should be investigated whether it was operating
legally or not and there could be more missing pet inside the lab that needed
to be returned to the rightful owner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Headstone Epitaph. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown would
once in a while visited the cemetery, he had this strong fondness of wandering
around the cemetery and read details written on every headstone he would passed
by. He was looking for the oldest existing carved gravestone and an epitaph
which could incite him to ponder more about the dead person. There was one
gravestone that attracted his attention, headstone with inscription that reads,
‘I died searching for my abducted child.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“What a notable message inscribed on this headstone, it is very clear that
until his death he was not reunited with his child, a very sad tragedy which he
intends to be constantly living up through his notable words to relay strong
message that life has somehow passed but not this way that someone is missing
as he cannot accept his child is not standing by his grave to mourn,” the clown
expressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown noted the name carved on the headstone, and the date of birth
and death. The clown headed to the nearby church who managed the cemetery
records. Someone said that cemeteries were excellent sources of genealogical
information. The name in the headstone was a good source in locating other
relatives and other family information. The records revealed that the entombed
body used to live in the city before moving in the province of Sto. Cristo. The
deceased had one daughter and the records revealed his family information. The
clown even though not aware of the whole story will start a mission to search
for the child and to bring her standing before his father’s grave. Based on the records he gathered, he
discovered that the child was around the age of 5 when abducted. The clown went
to the immediate family and introduced himself to the family. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown asked brief description of the missing child and abductor,
“How was the child abducted? Any descriptions of her clothing, and did you see
any suspicious prowler around the vicinity? Any person who had last seen the
child?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">An uncle replied, “The child was last seen by a neighborhood, they told
that our niece was watching a graffiti artist and when the artist was gone and
so was our niece. The neighbor saw that the artist was bringing one of his
unsold painting of a father and a daughter watching the sunset from the
breakwater and my niece as if by magic independently followed the artist. My
niece was wearing a pink woollen cardigan with JK inscription on it, her own
mother crocheted it for Julian Kitty, and this was her picture when she was 5
years old and she was missing 6 years from now, perhaps still recognizable when
compared to this picture. She has a port wine stain on her neck. Both parents
left the city and returned back to Sto. Cristo to forget the sad memory of
their child. Her parents died because of depression that weakened their health.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown pursued many tips, and went wherever he could find crowds, he
relied on his ‘Indago Felix’ by connecting relevant information to his intuition.
His journey has taken him to places he could never have imagined, he witnessed
many children worked on hard labor farms, challenged the danger in digging and
mining, begged for alms on the street, worked on packaging factory, and
undesirably working as domestic workers in private homes. The sequence of bad
images have dinged into worries upon seeing the many faces of child labor. The
clown hoped that the child was not drafted into impossible terms. The clown
looked where there were events of painting graffiti even in the dead of night. The
graffiti artist might be roaming around to victimize another child. One day when the clown was walking along old
walls of the city, he saw kids from a children foundation cleaning up the park
as part of their community service and in broad daylight, he spotted a graffiti
artist doing his task. The clown noticed that one kid from the foundation
walked away from his group and approached the graffiti artist, seemed the child
was attracted to what the artist was painting.
The clown observed closely and from afar he saw the artist seemed
talking to the child and suddenly packed up his things while the child
voluntarily followed him. The clown mistrusted the situation and in knee-jerk
reaction followed the artist and the child. The artist and the child turned into
the alleyway and rode to a car on standby. The clown followed the vehicle until
it reached a pier and transferred into a small ferry boat. The clown hired a
small fishing boat to follow the ferry boat. The ferry boat landed on a small
island, a secluded place where only few knew. The clown to be stealthy without
looking suspicious has told the fisherman to delay their docking, and when time
dictated more convincing, they docked the boat and told the fisherman to wait
until he arrived. The island encompassed of tangled mangroves on the seafront, he
saw a hut with bamboo fenced, a clothesline which dresses belong to children
aged 5 to 12. The clown thought that those children were kept away from play
and other activities as the place was very quiet. The clown moved silently into
the hut, and from the wooden slat door revealed children of different ages, and
he recognized one girl with a port wine stain on her neck and upon comparing it
to the picture that he was bringing, the girl looked the same and that could be
the girl as described by the uncle. The clown heard footsteps coming from
upstairs, the artist bringing the portrait of a father and daughter watching
the sunset from the breakwater. The artist appeared in front of the children
and told them that someone will take care of them to make them a healthy child.
The artist had lured children to stay in his place with the promise of giving
them everything they want. As it was obvious to see that they were provided with
good foods, clothes, toys, and a promise that they will be brought to Disneyland.
Children were gullible and innocent. They can be manipulated. From another
room, someone came out wearing white coat, seemed to be a doctor or laboratory
technician bringing a box of medicine. The white coated person who looked like
a foreigner brought out an injection and tried that to one child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“This won’t hurt, promise after this, you will feel strong and healthy, if
you passed this test, you will be with me in Disneyland,” the white coated man
said. The child seemed to be unconcerned of what kind of side effects that
might happen. The clown easily
understood what was happening inside the house, what he saw sent fear and sunk
deeper in his mind that those children were held up for purpose of clinical
trials by multinational company for testing new drugs. They were conducting
unethical clinic testing for abducted children to avoid getting informed consent
with parents. These clinical trials have been circulating mostly to developing
countries. The clown thought that the situation needed to be taken seriously
because those test can cause death as those children were vulnerable to harm. The
clown had forged a plan. He thought first of destroying all the medicines
inside the storage and tried to delude the two abductors by bogging down the
diesel generator, this will make the two abductors be busy in fixing the
generator set, as the event happened the way the clown planned it, it gave him
a chance to get those children out of the confided house. The clown brought the
children to the city hall to trace their parents and be reunited to their family.
The clown reported the whole incident to the authority and told them where to
find the abductors. The clown brought the girl with a port wine stain to his
uncle. The uncle was speechless upon seeing his niece after missing for such a
long time. The clown suggested that the
child be brought to her father’s grave to fulfill her father’s dreams. The
child stood there and wished that his father was happy in another dimension.
But there was something that overshadowed the empty time and space—she felt her
father’s memory formed a connection where words could not be expressed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A Knight Descended. </span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Time had changed, many had gone and finally
returned home. The clown was totally unaware of how he had aged and body
deteriorated. The clown loved to pamper himself by stargazing, while outside, he
noticed a young boy also staring the night sky with the thousands of stars that
he could wish for. The clown had noticed that the boy was crying. The clown
couldn’t bear to see the child in such a state, and so he approached the little
boy and from the boy’s story, the clown found out that the militant men had killed
his parents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“That bright star always captured my
attention, I wished I could name that star with my parent’s name,” the little
boy said. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I understand you want that star to be the
mirror of their lives and to feel their presence all the times,” the clown
reciprocated. “I remembered when I was young, same age as you are now, I was
mostly fascinated of simple things to be amazed by the horizon where I can see
the moon and the stars, and I looked up in the sky to catch a glance of the
most brightly star.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I think it’s impossible to name those
stars with my parents’ name,” the child stated. “I remembered, I was with my
parents, the first time I saw a falling star, for me it was inspiring even for
a short time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I wish I could help you, but let me know
your parents name and their zodiac sign, let me see what I can do,” the clown
promised, gently rubbing the boy’s head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown was so eager to figure out how
to make the boy happy again. The clown hated waiting so he decided to name star through online registration, this was the
only way to acquire a star by adopting it, though unofficial, it was still a good
idea to reward the boy with virtuous pride. The clown had registered for a
binary star for the boy’s parents and they issued in return a printed
personalized star registration certificate indicating the exact location of the
boy’s star. And a moving message, ‘Shine brightly and never dies’ was printed
in the certificate. The clown brought this to the little boy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Accept this as my gift for you in memory
of your parents,” the clown stated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Is this real? My parents name already
assigned to that star. I am deeply moved by your kindness, how can I able to repay
you?” the boy insisted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“There is nothing to worry about, I am
happy to see you being proud of your wish come true, I am old now and sickly,
at least I am relishing all of the moments in sweet reverie,” the clown
expressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The little boy approached the clown and gave
him a big relieved hug. “Thank you, may I know your good name Mister?” the boy
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The clown stopped for a moment to contemplate
a rainbow arc. The clown uttered, “See that rainbow? Do you know how those
parallel stripes of different colors appear? I am like a sunlight deflected
into different colors, just like a friend who comes out to lend a helping hand
for someone’s misery. You can call me, Clown of Sto. Cristo, the people who
knew me were used to calling me that name and I preferred calling that way,”
the clown explained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Many years had passed and like many others will reach an end. It was a
gloomy morning unfolding, the wind swayed in the direction nobody can choose. A
shadowy cloud that lurked above was totally inconceivable as the panoramic view
of the field turned into unforgettable stage play where everything that was
visible needs to scroll their vision for navigating the views. One can feel a
rhythmical throbbing of the nature but darkness enveloped a room where time has
ended layering another journey for the clown. The wind whispered the coldness
of sorrow that wrapped a lifeless heart of the clown. A knight had descended
from his horse after a long journey. All his heroic deeds will be forever in
the heart of people who knew him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Posted also in: </span><a href="https://www.wattpad.com/842708861-the-clown-of-sto-cristo-part-1-the-missing">https://www.wattpad.com/842708861-the-clown-of-sto-cristo-part-1-the-missing</a><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-46298050273147180382020-05-24T02:30:00.006-07:002020-05-24T02:30:51.965-07:00Children of the Mist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: #333332; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Children of the Mist</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #333332; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #333332; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">14
November 2019<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #333332; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-outline-level: 1; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="color: #333332; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt;">Part I: The Plight of the children of
the mist<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">While there are families
living quite well-off, there are also those living in an unfortunate situation.
They are the poorest of the poor living underneath the beams or truss of the
bridge that spans the river where they are confident to the endurance of the
structure. You would find some of them in a demolished building where they
build their makeshift tent for shelter. They do not have big dreams, as most of
them did not go to school; just their obligation is to find food to feed their
children. The child’s young mind well perceived his obligation and when their
parents could not support them anymore, these young children will go out and
find someone to help them feed their starving stomach. Most of these children
come across a syndicate to handle their lives in a crooked job. This is where
the life of the children of the mist has started. In the early stages of their
lives, they are running, jumping, and snatching things from a bystander or on a
slow-moving vehicle. They move quickly and run swiftly just like playing a
Filipino game called “Patintero,” bluffing and circumventing their way out from
barriers and the onrushing vehicles of the highway. Their face may look like
innocent but easily transformed into another being when they sniff the waft of
solvent and rugby glue. The backdrop of </span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Epifanio de los Santos Avenue</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> (EDSA)--the famous busy highway in Manila where
glittering billboards and massive malls standing on its side is now the
playground of these children of the mist. The coined name “Children of the
Mist” comes from the residents for they are being exposed to different kinds of
weather--be it summer, rainy, and under the mist of open sky where they have no
decent house to shelter them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At one point of my life,
I have encountered the plight of one of these children of the mist. I am Dexter,
a soccer coach, training children with the potential to play this kind of game.
I was in my free time wandering around the metropolis scouting for the best
runner in the field, when suddenly was thrilled by what I have witnessed in the
middle of traffic jam along </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">EDSA</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.
That morning, where the stream of vehicles were pushing so hard to find a way
through the slow-moving cars that I spotted a little boy who succeeded in
forcing his hand through the open side of the jeepney while his other peers have
occupied the bed of one truck and snatched scrap metal they could sell to
junkshop. The little boy who snatched my attention portrays a good soccer
player, that he can run at full speed like a trained sprinter and if you run
after him you will catch your breath to grab him, as he has the endurance to
run in a long distant mile seems powered by a 4-cylinder engine inside his
body. The kyphosis form of his upper back and neck areas displayed a good
potential of an endurance athlete while not obviously of hypertrophy in his
physique is a way to be lighter in carrying his body during a swift run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The following day, I asked the nearby vendors in the area where I
could find whom they called “children of the mist.” I wanted to meet most
especially the boy who became the icon of a juvenile violation. At the onset of
my yearning to this young boy, a compeer approached me and led me to where the
boy lived: <i>I am Pimpoy, I used to play with Lemuel, the one you are looking
for, but when Lemuel ganged up with rebellious older teenager, I have distanced
myself to Lemuel, I don’t want to get involved into troubles. My parents would always
remind me to stay away with his group and I complied with what been told. Lemuel’s
age is 12 and dropped out of school. His parents were involved in illegal drugs,
and both were serving in jail; his older sister took care of his other siblings.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">As we passed through the
locality, I felt a degree of empathy for the neighborhood, such a metaphor to
see their living condition, which betrayed a complete lack of perception, of
provision with their physical and psychological needs. The more I involved in walking
into the slum, the more picture of hardships that I could not bear. Residents
looked through garbage for anything of value and sold this to a junk shop, but
more disturbing to know was they were collecting leftover foods from bins for
recycling and later served at the table. As we proceeded, I witnessed a vigil
for the deceased; the makeshift coffin seemed undignified to fit the dead body;
biscuit and coffee to welcome their visitors, while others were busy of betting
in gambling. There I saw a drunk man and was lying down on the table. A group
of teenagers was singing and having the fun of them--flashed faces with smear
of charcoal. I tapped Pimpoy’s head: <i>Are you always around here? Are we
still far from Lemuel’s house?</i> Pimpoy pointed to the alleyway underneath
the bridge: <i>That is where Lemuel and his siblings live. </i>Alongside the
wall, there were at least four families living on their makeshift tent where
everything they need was there--from the kitchen, bathroom, bedchamber, living
quarter, and dining table were all compacted in a small space. A girl in her
teenage years was breastfeeding her newly born child, her slouched posture made
me think that she lacked nourishment and so her baby. There was no electricity while
potable water needed to fetch in the next neighboring area. Their everyday life
has become a banal existence and hardships wrapped their body while driving
them in cahoots with the nefarious. In a low voice, I told to Pimpoy: <i>This
kind of community is only crafting the zeitgeist of these youngsters in the
hands and minds of the organized-crime syndicates. The environment seems a
didactic projector that set out behind big malls and flashing neon lights.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">As soon as we stepped in the
alleyway, Pimpoy told me that Lemuel’s place dotted the riverbank-- their precarious
stilt house patched by the recycled sack of rice and canvas used as a roof. I
felt sorry and in a daze to say the least. We humbly called the attention of who
was inside the improvised shelter: <i>Hello is somebody there. I am Dexter and
this is Pimpoy, Lemuel’s friend. </i>A face peeked from behind the sack
curtain. <i>I am Lemuel. What is your reason for being here? I do not know you
and my first time to see you around here.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">I warily looked to Pimpoy
and replied: <i>Allow me to introduce myself, I am Dexter, a soccer trainer, I
used to train youth with the potential to be a good soccer player. I would be
glad to have you as part of our team to participate in any football
tournaments. I have already trained much less fortunate youth across the
country and maybe this is your best shot to consider.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">A short silence occupied
Lemuel’s appearance. I could hear Lemuel was sighing, and I sensed a mix of
hope and despair enveloped his mind. Lemuel, at 12 had a life that had more
than its share of valleys between mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i><span style="color: black;">Sometimes life offers us
unpolished things and it is up for us to mold it into what we desire. We really
do not know every turn of events unless we try, and in every step in our way,
we will encounter people who are dismissive, superficial and impediments can come
our way while we struggle to get up.</span></i><span style="color: black;"> I
explained to Lemuel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">As soon as the rain slowly
drizzled down, I bade goodbye while Pimpoy stayed with Lemuel. I handed over a small
amount of money enough to help satiate their hunger. I did not receive an
answer to my proposal to Lemuel, but hoping that Pimpoy will do a little help
to persuade Lemuel to agree. As I walked back the trail we passed by, I saw
more children outside their house waiting for a heavy downpour, while I hurriedly
skipped and splashed through shallow puddles. With area covered with water,
kids merrily played with paper boats. The heavy rainfall quickly suffused the
tall buildings and billboards. The children having the bliss of their lives
while enjoying the cold rain shower. I wondered how they managed to stay in
this kind of environment surrounded by rubbish and were deprived of
necessities. I saw vibrant smiles among children but the smiles introduced by
the adults have faded, maybe because of the tedious and fatigue life in the
slums. I could still see interesting stories when I looked into their eyes that
made me think: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just like living into the
wilderness where prey is the poor even if they wanted to escape—the unbearable
situation is their predator. It put life into perspective.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="color: black;">I decided to go inside a
restaurant just to fritter away time and waited until the rain subsided. I
looked through the glass window and from the view of the busy highway and slowly
progressed of vehicles; I spotted again the children of the mist doing their
bad errands, the police managed to capture three of their companions. In my
mind, I just hope it was another group and not Lemuel’s group. As the rain
stopped, I decided to go home. Early in the morning, as my instinct was
stronger than denial, that I decided to go to the precinct where the children
were taken. In my dismay, behind bars was Lemuel. While Lemuel was just 12
years old, that under the law, he will be regarded as a child in conflict, he
will undergo rehabilitation, counseling, and intervention. The authority should
immediately release him to the custody of his/her parents or guardian, or in
the absence thereof, to the child’s nearest relative. In the absence of those
mentioned, Lemuel might be released to </span>a duly registered nongovernmental
or religious organization, a barangay official or a member of the Barangay
Council for the Protection of Children (BCPC), LSWDO, or the Department of
Social Welfare and Development (DSWD). It was timely for me to be the other
suitable person to take Lemuel out of jail and bring him home. I promised the
authority that I will take care of Lemuel and exposed him to more family welfare
services including exposing him to soccer training. The authority granted my
wish and Lemuel was released under my custody.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b>Part II: Acceptance for a change.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i>I thanked you, Dexter, sorry that I neglected your
advice. My parents were both in jail; only my sister is in charge of looking at
my siblings and me. My sister unable to make both ends in the city, I was forced
to do the sinful jobs. My life has evolved in the squatter and stopped
attending the classroom. In my encounter with the gang, I let someone put a
tattoo on my left forearm: run Lemuel run. One can bear to know my first name
through my forearm and the word run means a bad mission to make a living. This
time I will change my mission by accepting your proposal. I will join your team
and will train hard to be a good soccer player.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Lemuel’s confident smile and terse answered “yes” was
enough to make me believe that he was willing to change. We dropped by to the
mall and bought some clothes and groceries to share with his siblings and we
proceeded to Lemuel’s house. I dismissed my beating around the bush and told
exactly what was on my mind: <i>If you will agree, I want you and your siblings
to come to my house and live there for good. Only my mother and I live there
and sure my mother will welcome you. It is no more safe living in this house,
anytime if bad weather comes; your house is not strong enough to withstand the
storm. Let me take you, as my own family and we will visit your parents to talk
about my offer.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Lemuel and his siblings agreed. I told them to pack up
all things and from there and then we left the place. Lemuel and his siblings
were happy to leave behind the real nightmare and stepped in a new door of
hope. My mother greeted them and hugged them as like her own children. <i>You
may stay here as long as you want and do not be shy to ask what you need. </i>My
mother told them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
I have nothing to worry now as Lemuel and his siblings
were under my care. <i>Tomorrow we will visit your parents to seek advice for
allowing you to come under my care. </i>Lemuel and his siblings have a few
visits on their parents’ prison cell. The children have rested and that night I
saw them in the state of very deep sleep for tomorrow will be more excited as
they will visit their parents. In the morning, we prepared food to bring to
their parents. Their parents’ prison cell were located separately, their father
was in the New Bilibid Prison located at Muntinlupa City while their mother was
in the Correctional Institute for Women located in Mandaluyong. We headed first
to their mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the siblings
approached their mother, their rendezvous was so emotional that they embraced
each other with tears in their eyes, no words as everybody broke down and
sobbed at full of their heart. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I am happy
to see all of you, sorry for I was not with you all the times. I promised that
I would patch things up when I come out in this place. It is like a hell in
this place that you will curse the first day of coming in this place. We need
to compress ourselves into the small bed to lie down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It bothered me most to be separated from you,
not knowing what is happening to all of you. I can only see your father during the
time of court hearing and this hearing is slowly dragging us to uncertainty.</i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Your father will be happy to see you all.
</i>Their mother said.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It is a lonely
house without you and father; it hurts a lot to spend days and nights without
both of you. We are locked-up in misery. I have no one else to turn to when I
have a problem that is why I run to my friend. We are lucky that Mr. Dexter
found us and would like to offer his home for us; would you agree to his offer.
</i>Lemuel asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I have to suffer
the consequences of my sins. I am not sure when we will be reunited again, forgive
me but I have to entrust you to Mr. Dexter, I can feel that he has good
intention to your welfare, that I am allowing you Mr. Dexter to take care of my
children. </i>Their mother replied.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I promised that
I will take care of them and will provide for their welfare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>I replied to their mother.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
The next thing we did was go to his father’s cell. The
same poor provision that we heard from his father: each taking turns to fit
their body on small space whether it be on the floor, staircase steps, or
hammocks made out of old blankets. His guilt-ridden father has promised making
up for the lost time for his children. <i>The most painful of all was to be
away from you and every single day it stripped my sanity how to live another
day without seeing you all.</i> Their father sadly said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
The children while scarcely sobbing bade goodbye to
their father. Their father agreed that their children be under my care. As we
arrived home, my mother handed me a letter informing me of the start of the new
season for registration of new aspiring football player. <i>This is your big
chance now Lemuel, this is your chance to prove your guts and it is happening
this season. Your exposure inside the academy will give you chance to be
spotted by dedicated scouts operating in local, national and even international
level. You must go through many challenges along with your training sessions so
the first thing you need to do is to pass their tough trials. Tomorrow, we will
be at the playing field/pitch at least 30 minutes before the actual training. I
will help you fill-up the application form and submit the accomplished training
card. This is the way to hone your skill and keep track of your development. </i>I
explained to Lemuel.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
As a football trainer, I need to stoke interest to my
player, my whole knowledge and skills I need to share with them to start with
the basic skills like dribbling, passing, shielding, trapping, tackling,
shooting and goalkeeping must be practiced. More time to spend inside the playing
field to determine which player I need to put in a certain position by
observing where their skills put to best playing. I am more impressed for the
central midfielders; they hold most of the playing field running back and forth
to secure and recovering the team’s position. The game played in rhythm with
the ones carrying the ball and among his teammates. Close to perfection means
carefully handling the ball from passing and switching to the other side to
achieve their goal. What I saw to Lemuel was a good potential to become a
central midfielder because he can run up and down in the whole field. He could
be everywhere. I have to teach the children the importance of the
responsibility of their position in the game that they need to be on their own
spot to realize the importance of teamwork. The most important mindset that I
need to teach was how they can lift themselves up when things went wrong and
that the opposing team was better that day for winning and getting back to the field
to play again was the spirit of recovering from the heartbreak of losing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
At one point of being a trainer was to see how to
identify different skills of whom among them has the caliber to run fast as
with the one who can do endurance run and the one with an accurate pass. Yet
behind my mind, as much as the training was concern, it was still the right
choice of the kids to know what they are capable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
The next morning, I have seen all the players; I began
teaching them the philosophy of winning. I usually offered the first week for
conditioning, evaluation of player and installing the playing field. They need
to know each other and the team rules and expectations. It was my duty to
evaluate the participants of what position they will serve well. To execute a
victorious pacing practice means assessing the player’s physical ability along
with mental ability.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Lemuel’s capability for sprint and endurance run was
something to watch for. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lemuel needed
the proper way of handling the ball, correct balance of arms harmonizing with
the body. The Dedication was the sensible effective approach to improve player
skills. It was normal for a child to be curious about what he sees around;
inside the registrar’s office was a picture of the first batch of the team
“Dingal,” which means elegance. <i>Maybe someday I will see your own picture
paralleled with these pioneers. </i>I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i>Who is this? </i>(Pointing to the little boy of his age seated in the
middle). Lemuel asked. <i>His name is Rommel. I found him on the street, abandoned
by his parents. I took him here and taught him how to play football. His
passion to this game has improved his skills which led him to compete
internationally, now he was at Davao city working as a trainer in one of the
football club there, once in a while we talked about our lives. This boy in the
wheelchair is Junjun, he suffered from polio in his teenage years, rather feel
miserable, he joined our team and volunteered to assist with the players need.
Junjun now became a dedicated volunteer for a charity program. He usually
travels to places from which cannot be reached by government assistance. And
this one is Meshari a half Filipina a half India, she was the one who enjoyed
making lots of friends that when his father from India will take her back home,
she decided to stay and finish the last football season. This picture has so
much to tell a story about friendship, hardship, and success. </i>I recounted.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
On the first day that Lemuel stepped on the football
pitch, his bare feet felt the difference of a tread on the dirty ground of
their place and on the artificial turf made to look like natural grass. Lemuel excitedly
lay down flat on the ground with both hands on the side. I knew that Lemuel was
building his composure and trying to get up from the failure in life. Lemuel
tried to run back and forth across the pitch to gauge his stamina. This time he
was no longer running, snatching, and stealing along the highway, preferred
instead to run for true greatness. Lemuel knew that this would be a tough game,
running out of breath, and have to prolong his capacity inside the game.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b>Part III: Challenges and unity.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
On the following day, Lemuel and I arrived early on
the playing field. I have set up the training session and checked the safety of
the equipment. I gave clear and brief guidelines for relays. I prepared lane of
cones for players to follow through. One player will go far line touches the
second player to run back to the start line and to touch the 3<sup>rd</sup>
player and will go to the far end. It was a relay done repeatedly until
everyone was back to the start line. After sometime, I needed to change cones
positioning, I put three cones apart at the far line with three balls in the
gap of each cone, each player needed to run beyond far line to get the ball with
their feet and dribbled the ball back to the start line with the rest of the
player taking turns to do the relay. I also trained the children in chasing and
dodging, as these techniques will develop their skill of faking then moving in
the opposite direction. As I wanted to have a little fun along with the
practice, I made up lively exercises where players in pairs will run around
into the positioned cones as gates to pass through with each player dribbling
the ball and pass it through the gates to each other until they have passed
through each gate. Until they get used of this drill, we switched to another
exercise, where each team can start stealing balls from the other team’s safe,
the stealer will take the ball and passes it to another teammate then passes it
to the team’s collector, who puts the ball in their safe. Their opponents will
be doing the same to steal and put most balls in their safe. The children also
practiced the receiving and controlling of the ball from the air using the
head, shoulders, chest, legs, and feet. I told them also to practice to
dribble, pass, and shoot the ball with their non-dominant foot. The ability of
a player to switch from dominant to the non-dominant foot will be a great
advantage. I told them also not to chase the ball in a pack rather they should
know that each has to play a different spot on the game. A player with the best
position to kick the ball for a goal should not waste time to take that
opportunity and the other should be on his or her own spot to play their
position. The kids’ anticipatory or perceptive thinking will help develop their
spatial awareness of where his teammates and his opponents are. I told them
also where scored goals most often went into the goal. They have a better
chance of scoring if they shoot low into the corner but the most important
thing to remember was just shooting if they saw an opportunity. I taught the
children how to handle different situations, how to quickly assess and to
choose the right decision. As training escalated, the children became more
passionate to hone their craft. The event did not only open a new hope for
these children but created new intimacy with the teammates. As a way to relieve
fatigue from long training, we decided to go out of town to establish strong
bonding and rapport to help reinforce trust. That in every competition, it was nice
to feel unruffled that you know someone was at your back to keep you going
forward. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was vigorous for players to
bond off the field to get to know each other. We traveled to the theme park as
well as to recreational park. The children have a wonderful day, eating
together, walking and tramping no matter how far as long as they get in touch
with nature. On one spot, Lemuel found a well, bending head down into the water
well to make an echo sound of this phrase: <i>I am fine, are you well?</i> He
did this just for fun, expecting the well will conversely echo what he said. Inspired
of what Lemuel did, I gave him a coin to toss to make a wish. It was more
exciting to travel by bus. They have a chance to talk, escaped boredom while experiencing
a breathtaking ride of going through narrow roads and were sloping uphill,
while dew covered our path. Moreover, after long hours of ride, we arrived at
our destination. The place was entirely an idyllic hideaway, with hills
descending into lush green valleys, while everyone wants to be tucked away from
the noisy city even for a few days. The place we have come to has many
interesting cultural beliefs; one thing that intrigued the children was the strange
tradition of burying the dead by suspending coffins on the cliff. <i>Was it
safe to put the dead hanging on the cliff’s wall? Why are they doing this? </i>Lemuel
asked. <i>The indigenous tribe believed that it is a way to get their deceased
loved ones closer to the gods. It is also believed that it is to safeguard the
dead bodies from headhunting, as it was a rampant custom to take home human
heads as their claim for victory.</i> I explained. We posed for a team photo at
the Kiltepan peak where trekkers got the best view of the sunrise and the
famous Kiltepan Rice Terraces. We wrapped up our journey sitting around by the
campfire, listening to others telling crazy stories, while one teenager played
Beatles song on his guitar which attracted Lemuel to ask if he knew the song
“In my life.” Both collaborated well to sing that beautiful song which the
group enjoyed listening. Lemuel felt on singing it like his personal life reminiscing
places and people that he met. At daybreak, we left the place and headed back
home.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Team bonding is bridging the expanse of brotherhood and
getting out from a wrong mindset of “all by myself” into “us” mindset. The
outdoor event resulted in strong trust and unity, which will later transform
into good performance in the field. <i>Remember our motto “make it happen today
for tomorrow will be a bigger day to face.” </i>I shared with the team.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Lemuel voluntarily enrolled in an evening class to
continue his study, this gave him time to study and a chance to train football.
Lemuel has the mindset that anything is possible and truly in the development
of his ways that went smoothly. In between school session and training, he
conquered his tough decision to combine playing and study.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<b>Part IV: The glory and grief.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
The most awaited time had come when Lemuel’s team faced
off against a formidable opponent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early
in the game, our team had good chances on goal but the opponent’s goalkeeper
had intercepted our attempts but in spite of the pressure, our team remained
upbeat about what looms. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
beginning, everyone was unstable because of the foe’s strong successive
attempts for a goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our team did not
succumb to pressure and instead managed a strong counterattack to figure out a
way for a first goal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
On the second half, was an equally shared strength between
the two teams. Both teams have to run back and forth trying to grab a chance
for a goal. As the game reached the 55<sup>th</sup> minute mark, Lemuel got
face to face with the goalkeeper, he first observed a clear shot, when closed
enough, then he used the technique to chip the ball over the keeper and scored
a goal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
Overall, the team’s effort got through and took the
opportunity to win that game with a final score of 2-0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I congratulated the team members. <i>We still
have a long way; I hope the grit spirit you showed will go all the way to
international competition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>In
celebration of our winning, I arranged for a full-throttle party, I just want
to see a big smile on their face. I hosted a cookout party at our favorite
hangout park to run around and jump for joy, some brought food enough to share
with the team. Everyone was eager to blow the first candle of victory in our
first celebratory cake. Each player honored each other by lifting each member
in unison, and then tossed him high into the air, and shouted for joy. Moreover,
before we parted ways, each had posed a picture with me. That night, we felt we
were one big family; it was nothing short of magical, the nearby falls at the
park vaporized a fine mist, which reminded me of the first day I met Lemuel, been
called the “children of the mist.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
How wrong for people would say that a child raised in a
disarray environment would justify his/her misfortune in life, but Lemuel
proved them wrong, as he trained hard and continued his study. He made many
nights into a lively session, spending time reading and writing. For Lemuel, it
was not enough just to believe, it was also behaving to be good for that
special night in building his future a special contour.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
In taking action every way we can, God is overlooking
our journey and always flipping through the journal of our life, weighing them
with perfect composure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some are saying
that the righteous and the merciful are said to perish early and the wicked to
live long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although that belief appears with
no justification, the reason why that happens is that He wants to protect the
righteous from falling to doing evil things. While the wicked one to live long,
and given a chance to repent of their sins, to pray more and able to share the
gospel for their salvation. As some would feel worthy, some would feel puzzled of
God’s patience extended on us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
While on that evening, the mist was gathering slowly
near the shores. Lemuel had stood outside the school to wait for my arrival as
I always did since the first day of his night schooling. On my way to fetch him
up, I returned to the house for I forgot to bring the book which I would bring
to Lemuel as a gift, it took me long to find where I have put it. Lemuel might
have become little impatient of his waiting that he decided to leave and walk
home. Along the way in a narrow street, he encountered the group of what they
called “children of the mist,” looking for someone to victimize and diverted their
attention to Lemuel annoying and pushing him which caused anger to Lemuel. Lemuel
fought back, while being hit by a large cobblestone to the head, and been
stabbed in his chest. When I arrived at the school’s waiting shed, I found no
Lemuel; I searched around the vicinity, walked farther into the cobblestone
road, and beneath the only street lamppost, I found him lying on the ground who
labored for his breathing, and at no time, I hurriedly rushed him to a nearby
hospital. The hospital did everything to revive Lemuel but his wounds were
severe that caused his immediate death. Lemuel seemed at peace when I touched
his face. At anytime from anywhere, we might all fall prey to catastrophic
events. For I can no longer control my emotions, I just burst into tears that
displeased and blamed myself for the sad tragedy. My heart screamed in pain and
in silence because the absence of communication was not a usual thing between
Lemuel and me. I left and walked outside at the sheen of haze. I arranged for
his funeral and burial site which all of his team attended with deep sorrow. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the eulogy, my words were comprised of
three storylines. I started with his struggles. The secondary storylines remembered
his challenges, and the last tale had to tread carefully around his feelings
over success. After the wake, his body rested to his final burial place.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
next morning, I went to the football registrar’s office, I collected all his
things inside his locker and found our selfie picture. I took it and have
posted it in the bulletin board as what I have promised seeing his picture
along with the pioneers. As I was leaving the office, someone played the
Beatles song “In My Life,” which was Lemuel’s favorite song. I walked on the
trail of that song, and all about Lemuel. The lyrics of the song were so
powerful, which left me a feeling of belongingness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;">
The song slowly faded out as I walked away from the
place. I returned to Lemuel’s graveyard, soon the sun had grown weaker, means
another day soon to complete and it started to get misty again associated with
fog. I could somehow see a vision from the mist that suspended in the air while
the fog converged, it was difficult to discern but I knew there was someone out
there in the gloomy fog.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Posted also in: <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/847121909-part-i-the-plight-of-the-children-of-the-mist" style="text-align: left;">https://www.wattpad.com/847121909-part-i-the-plight-of-the-children-of-the-mist</a></h4>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-26701629735687837932020-05-09T03:18:00.000-07:002020-05-09T03:18:00.313-07:00The World Is Healing From Coronavirus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/geralt-9301/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=552408" style="cursor: pointer; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span style="color: #191b26;">Gerd Altmann</span></a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=552408" style="cursor: pointer; outline-color: invert; outline-style: none; outline-width: 0px;"><span style="color: #191b26;">Pixabay</span></a></span><br />
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<pre itemprop="description" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: verdana,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.35em; orphans: 2; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">The World Is Healing From Coronavirus
By: Noel N. Villarosa
We hide smile behind facemask
In cold wind virus-spread open spaces
A touch could turn into snafu touch
As noise turns into silence
Mother earth is breathing
The way we look at it
It is rebuilding and helping us to retrace
The whip-like tail, we inflicted
It released its own antibody
An infective agent to restore its system
Sad to say, we are the aim of attack
Which gives an end to human capacity
The birds gracing the garden again
I can see blue and clear sky overhead
Less travel in land, sea, and air
Clearing smog that hangs over the city
Family members once again bonded
In this sad scenario everyone prays
To be able to reconnect again
With tender smile, touch, and cozy talk
Written: March 18, 2020</pre>
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Copyright © <a href="https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=17877" style="color: #3366cc; text-decoration: underline;"><span itemprop="author">Noel Villarosa</span></a> | Year Posted 2020
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-32042053861149561452019-12-16T06:49:00.001-08:002019-12-16T06:51:22.275-08:00Journey with You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #191b26; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"> Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/blickpixel-52945/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=538286"><span style="color: #191b26;">Michael Schwarzenberger</span></a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=538286"><span style="color: #191b26;">Pixabay</span></a><span style="background: white;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Journey with You</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By: Noel N. Villarosa</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">December 16, 2019</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Though the road is not easy</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The journey deserves respect</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I’m on your side</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Weariness becomes little thing</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I choose you to be my wife</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As testament for our enduring love</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Looking back the years spent together</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To go stronger in the more coming years</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You and I serve as a milestone</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Guiding us when evening falls</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Forgive me if I spent so little time</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To be on your side, to comfort you</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So much delighted to see you</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Over a digital world, we tried to connect</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When the time will come, all dreams to lay in rest</span><br />
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I will be beside you sailing with our love affairs</span><br />
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-13196012360443611242019-11-15T07:11:00.001-08:002019-11-15T07:19:28.161-08:00The Lies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Photo
credit: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/geralt-9301/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=1187128">Gerd
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 24.0pt;">The Lies</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">9 October 2019</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Who do you believe?</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The eyes that see</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The ears that hear</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Or the story been told and read</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">As fast as the bullet</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">And swift as the eyes blink</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The catapulted mouth haunted </span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The still pristine mind</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">A time to put this all at rest</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Harbored lies and planted it</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Each day it grows like flowers</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Masking in pretty colors</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Finding a good place in mind</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">To enter metaphorically</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Questions would shatter</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The mind-boggling story</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The tale spit groundless words</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Aimlessly drifting at the tongue’s mercy</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Lies out now and how it will die</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The zephyr of fraud pervades subtly</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Now it belongs among wisdom’s gift</span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">For some time stays a believable lie</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Metamorphosing into truth</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">A lie becomes another lie </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Copyright
© <a href="https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=17877"><span style="color: #3366cc;">Noel Villarosa</span></a> | Year Posted 2019</span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-54595325498432332692019-08-12T07:35:00.001-07:002019-08-12T07:35:16.965-07:00Negative Thinking Balances Your Decision<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Negative Thinking Balances Your Decision</h1>
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<em>
By
<a href="https://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366" rel="author" style="color: #610000;" title="EzineArticles Expert Author Noel Nicolas Villarosa">Noel Nicolas Villarosa</a></em></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Worrying is different from thinking. Worrying dwells on bad thoughts created from one conceptual situation, while thinking is processing useful judgment to avoid the unfavorable situation. Many people keep on telling to avoid negative thinker because they attract negative vibes. I am not disparaging the good side of positive attitude and optimism, what I want to emphasize is to try looking at the other views of a person labeled as a negative thinker. In the law of attraction, we are manipulating our mind to create things eventually so it depends on a person's mind on what he thinks to materialize them into reality, but the law of attraction is realizable if you take action to put all things the way you want it to be. You could serve as a driving force to others by sending out your opinion, feeling, and attracting back more of what you have planned. Your action will either create a good or bad outcome from your decisions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With all due respect to people trying to avoid negative thinker, I am more challenged by someone saying a contrary outcome, I understand what they are dealing with, and they are just being a defensive pessimist. Individuals behaving in defensive pessimism are strategically preparing themselves how to handle uneasiness or discomfort to an uncertain outcome. There have been many "ifs" and "buts" on their minds to make a clear decision just like when making a computer program flowchart, they stop and logically process what is inside the decision box that there is certain action if you decide to go here and there. When they are in defensive thinking, low expectations would arise in a way they plan of what action to do to avoid the uncertain events. In doing this, is helping them to prevent anxiety overcomes their feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Negative people are well aware of the possible problem and thinking ahead would lead them for possible actions to avoid worst-case scenarios.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are two kinds of negative thinker:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A negative thinker with the same trait as with positive thinker</b>. These people are thinking of imaginary events but the traits they both apply are doing nothing and just wait until the situation comes, they do not have a systematic plan to solve or mitigate the unpleasant situation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>A negative thinker with a solution to apply</b>. This kind of person is thinking ahead what might be the problem and from imaginary thoughts, he will plan activities to solve or alleviate the problem.</span></div>
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Here is where things get fascinating about a negative thinker: A defensive pessimist heard the news that he must register his job position in an authorized committee to renew his residential identity card in a foreign country. His thought flooded with many "ifs" even though not sure if his job position is included among the professions to be registered, in no time he immediately applied for a Special Power of Attorney for a family member and sent this to his home country to get all his credentials as requirements to be submitted to the committee. When the time comes to renew his residential identity. He had now on his hands all the supporting documents and timely submitted this to the committee; the hassle of chasing time to prepare all the documents are being replaced by convenience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In one occasion, he read news about the possible nationalization scheme as a new policy. All expatriates will be replaced by its local citizens, even though not sure that his job position is included among the list of professions to be replaced, he created plans on how to abate his worries about filling the gaps of years will be lost in his retirement years. He started to save money every payday and sent it back home to deposit in the bank or investing it in government bonds. In just a few years, his money earned interest and as expected the nationalization scheme came, without any hesitation, he accepted his fate and went home with his family with enough savings to sustain a family business.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Negative thinkers deal with realism and rationalism because they behave toward the actual situation, gathering information and taking conscious action. While being positive thinker dwells on being complacent with the imaginary concept until it is too late to suppress the bad outcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When events are not yet sure to happen, be specific on your goals and try to get in touch with reality because it will probably fall somewhere in between. Beyond positive and negative retrospect, planning is best to get you through countless roadblocks. If someone tells you to set your mind positively, acknowledge and warn them that negative thinker is another friend reminding you to anticipate possible outcomes before the situation controls you.</span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-73814027996630763942019-08-12T07:26:00.001-07:002019-08-12T07:29:45.019-07:00Morning of My Life (Bee Gees Song)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Morning of My Life (Bee Gees Song)</h1>
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<em> By <a href="https://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366" rel="author" style="color: #610000;" title="EzineArticles Expert Author Noel Nicolas Villarosa">Noel Nicolas Villarosa</a></em></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was not yet born when Bee Gees were introduced to the music world and to keep track of their popularity. On my teenage years, I was able to listen to their music on a transistor radio and during the intercession of social media like YouTube that I was able to appreciate more videos of Bee Gees. There are many music genres that people enjoyed based on their preferences like pop, rock, jazz and more. Baseless if we don't listen to the music and to prove what made them famous.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Bee Gee's sound can easily be identified as loud and lively performed by the famous three brothers' vocal harmonies; with Barry Gibb's falsetto voice became the band's brand. The Bee Gees songs are considered oldies but goodies in music circulation. The Bee Gees sound would always be accompanied by a vibrato at the end of a phrase and a controlling percussion effects and string overdubs lead one in appreciating the beat. The fans love it so much that keeps most of their songs more interesting. Their songs like "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart," "I Started A Joke," "Massachusetts," "How Deep Is Your Love," "Night Fever," "To Love Somebody," "You Should Be Dancing," "Too Much Heaven," "Jive Talkin," "Spicks and Specks," "Run To Me," "Tragedy," "Words," and "Staying Alive" are only a few of the classics in pop music golden age.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The 1970s was a proliferation of unique sounds from the disco theme of Bee Gees. Their music has become more engaging as time goes by. The music resonates with deep meanings like sharing life experiences, love, friendship, poetry, and cultural elements. Did you ever ask yourself why is their sound so mesmerizing, so simple and yet effectively unparalleled?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first time I heard the song "Morning of My Life," (also known as "In the Morning") its melody and lyrics are captivating that unknowingly you will be caught daydreaming no matter what time it is. It will bring you to the time where you are fully aware of your feelings and that you want to keep going back to that time and lingers it all the way. The song is enchanting that will cradle you to the desired timetable of your life. The simple thought created in this song is so gratifying that will pronounce sweet smile on one's face. Discover by listening to its melody and seize the substance within the words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first stanza goes like this: "In the morning when the moon is at its rest," "You will find me at the time I love the best," "Watching rainbows play on sunlight," "Pools of water iced from cold night," "In the morning," "It is the morning of my life." The message here is for someone thoughtfully pondering for the beginning of time that is naïve and a pristine love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The second stanza goes like this: "In the daytime, I will meet you as before," "You will find me waiting by the ocean floor," "Building castles in the shifting sands," "In a world that no one understands," "In the morning, it is the morning of my life." In here, my exegesis of the message is life transformation of going out from comfort zone and goes beyond their capability where success and failure may come that only himself could understand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The third stanza details this: "In the morning of my life," "The minutes take so long to drift away," "Please be patient with your life," "It's only morning and you're still to live your day." What I realized with this stanza is the moment that is hard to let go but the reality is that it takes time to accept what is needed to leave in the past and live another day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The last stanza mentions this: "In the evening, I will fly you to the moon," "To the top right-hand corner of the ceiling in my room," "Where we'll stay until the sun shines," "Another day to swing on clothesline, may I be yawning, it is the morning of my life." From my understanding the message probably would like to express in the twilight years of their lives, spending together at the attic where writing in lights kept, hoping waking up for another daybreak in reminiscing the beauty of life.</span></div>
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Article Source: <a href="https://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366" style="color: #a30006;">https://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366</a></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-45582126742825805932018-09-18T01:19:00.001-07:002018-09-18T01:28:35.141-07:00The Story of a Ghost (Fictional Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Story of a Ghost (Fictional Short Story)<o:p></o:p></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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6 September 2018<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the late evening hours, I was seated at the firm surface of my bed. I can’t go back to sleep; in louver, I waited until the ultimate sunlit peeped through the slats. That moment I was in so much anguish that made me starry-eyed. In a flick, my thoughts desired to see the distance place where moments of loved ones dwell. Even if it was an intermission, I welcomed it all in alliance with my deep longing for the happy occurrence. My heart was in the clamor to see them all; my eyes sparkled with pleasures for all the fine senses of deep affection. While time held its breath, gave way to reunite me with the past.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It flew me back to the time where I was seated with other small children maybe aged 6 or 7 and where a lady teacher believed she was holding a stone whisperer will always know of whatever hidden mischievous events inside her classroom. Magic, then introduced into the innocent mind. There was even a garden wherein a dwarf statue was changing position from time to time. It was a blossoming superstitious belief that resided on every child.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then there was strong nostalgic feeling that turned back those times where I spent playing outside the house; I was playing glass marble games by putting it into small holes just by pressing it between the index finger and the thumb while flicking it forward. I was a kid proficient at hitting my opponent’s marble even 4 to 5 feet away. As time moved freely, I was brought into the scene where I was playing the game of kick called “sipa” in the Filipino language--made of a washer with colorful threads or plastic straw attached to it. I was wearing a good pair of rubber shoes tossing the sipa upwards and catching it to avoid touching the ground; I had to count the required number of times in tossing the sipa, and then hitting it as far as it could, away from the opponent to let them chase and catch it by their foot. At the gyrating movement of the surrounding, I found myself holding a hand span of teks playing cards running away from other players who will be asking a share of some of my teks playing cards. At another scene, I was trying to rescue a captured teammate from another base and trying to secure also our base from an intruder in what was called “catch and own a corner” or “agawan base” game in the Filipino dialect. I have won and lost many games but with all of these; I have found new friends until the play mats have been folded and kept in the corner when childhood moments escaped while running uncomfortably to more mature roles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My eyes winked and suddenly brought me back to high school days, where I was under the heat of the sun practicing military marching cadence; in those proving stamina; I was able to win discipline and endurance; all the nearby barber shops were too occupied to attend those cadets that need a haircut. I was a frequent visitor to the library where researching was done since there was no internet during those periods. I spent many times in reading and writing researched information and staying late in the evening reviewing notes. Time was so generous that showed events where I was clinging at the back of jeepney to bring me to school and sometimes walked briskly from house to school when traffic was worst during those times. The moment was splendid when it showed me bringing my lunch to the school and eating at the riverbank with trees in the background. I did not go far in finding a university; at the same location as the high school was where I attended my college. There was no escape from a tumultuous life in university life, that even in a more mature life, I was not spared from bullying where an English teacher made me stand up in the class alongside with a classmate and asked somebody to tell comparison between us. It brought humiliation where I found it hard to forget. Somewhere during the last school year, I got sick and decided to stop--to give way for minor stomach operation. It was that reason that I graduated in the span of 5 years and did not join the graduation rites.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As time slipped away, I was on a night shift job working in the bank, reconciling data and went home the next morning. Then I saw myself doing most of the time a clerical job, data controlling and data encoding, until I found a permanent job in the government which I served with sincerity and later got married and settled down. The most treasured part was seeing traveling with my wife and son together with other family members. I treasured the moments playing with my little son, discovered fun ways to talk to him even in a long distance communication. It was charming to see moments sharing a pleasurable life with my wife that can turn my life around with her loving and caring nature. Time expanded showing more details of my devoted mother for the untiring and loving care. Time traveled extending up to the most critical decision of my life--to work in foreign land embracing different customs and cultures. Strict compliance of the law had fortified and fine-tuned my personality. Every day, I resided in the virtual world, where communication had settled on the internet. The life outside the home country was like rituals: going to work, calling family, remitting money, and working again to earn a living. The sickness I tried to avoid that’s why I strived in healthy living. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Over time, back again inside the room, small and big details which in a quilt of patchwork would tell someone I have memorable memories. The years spent living in the foreign land was like being poured out from my safety dwelling that’s why big changes happened with my body: grey hairs prevailed, memory lapsed, unexplained body pain, stress, homesickness, and loneliness were altogether engendered my body to deteriorate. <o:p></o:p></div>
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While the surrounding snoozed quietly in the evening ceasing the entertainment in how the crowd moves about where only a few won the highly coveted spot of life. I no longer own the time--the time to communicate with loved ones, no longer to play a role with the community, to wake up at dawn, no longer had to rush for work and jostled with the crowd for business appointment, no longer to worry the threat of suicide bombing in a crowded place. The sad thing was, I could not touch and feel anything around me, and I felt like a spirit got stuck in the earthly dimension and among the jinn’s world. Many thoughts flooded my mind. How could this be happening? I have still so much to do, am I now an earthbound ghost? Now, I feared more than anything else of being secluded with my loved ones; I don’t know how to accept that I was dead. I am still obliged to nurture my little child, to grow old with my wife, and see to it that they will be alright. Who will help me accept the last episode of my life? For the last time, I tried to hold my mobile phone to call my family but my hand just passed over the tangible thing. I saw the light pulling me; I needed to decide whether to pass into the light or remained stuck in the earthly dimension. I decided to remain earthbound spirit in search for someone who is sensitive to spirits and could help me understand about death.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I remained calm, cried sometimes, moved around and learned what a ghost could do. Then the rain came pouring down; someone knocked on the door, it was a child looking for shelter, tried everything to get his way inside my house until he found a way to get inside. Suddenly I met him and probably saw me passed by him. “Do you live here?” The child asked. The End. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Submitted to Ezinearticles.com pending approval for publication.</div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-13581105746966808232018-09-18T01:14:00.000-07:002018-09-18T01:31:48.588-07:00The Author and the Orphan Boy (Fictional Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFKeLQs740pJkJSuk4cZPrjOQ183XRvkX8CESu_rYb6C8kIlZoPkhUHrMhd1hvF4G2Wm5qZ6lAXeL4T0FdpW9tC1UPB8osVawzJ-vU4cSc0h9ALzqHnjdTapxkRYD75ObBIDCU5Ciiho/s1600/typewriter-2095754_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFKeLQs740pJkJSuk4cZPrjOQ183XRvkX8CESu_rYb6C8kIlZoPkhUHrMhd1hvF4G2Wm5qZ6lAXeL4T0FdpW9tC1UPB8osVawzJ-vU4cSc0h9ALzqHnjdTapxkRYD75ObBIDCU5Ciiho/s320/typewriter-2095754_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Photo credit: <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/typewriter-desk-vintage-retro-old-2095754/">https://pixabay.com/en/typewriter-desk-vintage-retro-old-2095754/</a><br />
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<b>The Author and the Orphan Boy (Fictional Short Story)<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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27 August 2018<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Beginning<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Everyone hopes that someday they will be recognized because of their unique abilities, but sometimes opportunity is too elusive. Once they get to hold popularity, more times than not, they become fascinated by their humble success and reminded them of the people behind their triumph. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a little boy, Nomer grew up emotionally and an introvert. It could be caused by incessant humiliation. Nomer can't do anything but to avoid imminent embarrassment. Nomer was very careful not to enter a conversation that would end up his being empty-headed. Nomer needed to be simple and tried not to be arrogant in any way. Nomer took refuge into writing poems and fictional stories as the humiliation piled up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nomer got interested in reading comic books; his interest grew into the realm of fantasy. There was a wide range of comic book rental during those times and Nomer would save a few coins to rent his desired comic book. Slowly, Nomer gained confidence in writing his first poem and started joining online poetry contest which some of his works got placement. Nomer was moved into creating his own short story as he fondly narrated some of this to his family and close relatives. Writing had become an avocation for him to write an inspirational written piece. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Strive<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Everyone strives to receive accolades from relatives and friends. Nomer was one of those who needs little praise and approval. Only a few admired Nomer’s written works. All the poems, short stories, and articles he had written were compiled in his blog. Nomer was satisfied to see a few visitors when he monitored the flag counter of his blog. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Attempt<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Nomer had reached the point to offer his written works to a publishing company. He wrote his covering letter together with all other requirements and sent his book proposal. Nomer did not wait long for a response from the managing director of the company. Nomer received a rejection for his book proposal but he understood the company’s business core and very far from what Nomer had offered them--a fiction story. The company was publishing only a non-fiction inspirational and self-help books. Nomer never heard or received a reply again from the publishing company.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Decision<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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Nomer was eager to share his written works and it popped out suddenly to his mind--what if he donates this to charity purpose. There are many orphanages in the country and many out of school youth needed reading materials to quench boredom inside the orphanage. There are some charitable institutions intended to serve the orphans with their dedicated volunteer teachers. Nomer started printing the manuscript of his book and created a design for his book cover, and Nomer's first thought upon finishing what needed to be done was “knowledge is sharing.” Nomer did not hesitate to donate his book to an orphanage. Nomer could only print one copy of his book as his budget was tight. Nomer went to his chosen orphanage. He was happy giving the book to the orphanage administrator. The administrator was touched by Nomer’s kindness. The next day inside the library, it had displayed Nomer’s book.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Arrival<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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It was mid-summer when all other orphans were outside removing weeds in the little garden when outside the entrance gate a little boy was staring and seemed was eager to join other kids. The administrator saw the little boy and approached him. The administrator took him inside and asked where he came from and where were his guardians. The little boy only bowed his head and cried. The little boy narrated what had happened to his parents and siblings. All family members have died during the heavy flash flood that stricken their place; the little boy could only remember he survived by clinging to a piece of wood that brought him to a nearby place. He became a vagrant and depended on someone else’s mercy. The administrator offered the little boy the orphanage to be his new home while the little boy did not refuse and accepted the offer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The little boy was to be known as Nimuel. Every day Nimuel would habitually visit the small library, nobody had coaxed him to read but he insisted on doing so. What caught Nimuel’s interest was the sole copy of the book donated by Nomer entitled “Collection of Thoughts,” in all it has 180 pages with three chapters: poem, short story, and an article. Nimuel read freely the book’s content, never got tired understanding the message and eventually learned it by heart. At the end of the day, Nimuel could able to recite the poems. At every moonlit, Nimuel would share the story he read to other orphans, and to the surprise of all, Nimuel could share information he read from the article section of the book. The book became Nimuel’s pillar to build his dreams. Nimuel showed the wisdom that would communicate the elders his eagerness to learn and that was the beginning of it all. Nimuel was sent to school being sponsored by the orphanage. Nimuel persistently occupied his life with straightforward knowledge, and at the deciding time, Nimuel graduated with honors. The orphanage was very proud of Nimuel that his struggle did not come in vain rather harvested good fruits. Nimuel wholeheartedly thanked the people behind the orphanage and revealed the secret behind his success aside the good upbringing of the people in the orphanage was the sole copy of the book “Collection of Thoughts,” Nimuel was keen to ask of who donated the book, the administrator unselfishly revealed that it was donated by Mr. Nomer Rovales. Nimuel dreamed of finding Mr. Nomer and needed to tell to Mr. Nomer of what the book had contributed to his success. Nimuel left the orphanage and started a new life outside what he called a real home for several years. Now Nimuel armed with skills and knowledge embarked on the corporate world where he built his huge wealth. One day while Nimuel was walking along the park, he was overwhelmed by two opposing feelings; happiness and keenness. Nimuel had humble beginnings and went on to become a wealthy man and that happiness also will help him to find Mr. Nomer Rovales.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The Meet-Up<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The helical trail of everyday life was not easy for the once little boy named Nimuel and into manhood where fame and glorious life made him realize that emptiness still lingered in his heart. There was one goal that Nimuel would like to have a real impact on the lives of orphaned children and that was to give them education, by starting to build more libraries in the far-flung areas. Accruing over 10 years, Nimuel succeeded in building many libraries, it came like a montage of films put together for a good effect. Nimuel believed that education is the first step to success. <o:p></o:p></div>
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One day, Nimuel was invited to a public speaking engagement. The topic was about “Deliberate Parenting,” even though Nimuel did not have a genuine conversation since that tragedy happened to his parents, if he had to look for his parents caressing touch, it was altered by a good touch from the orphanage. It was a chance for Nimuel to meet the people he will likely be sharing success with. One of the audiences who attended that day was Nomer, seated at the far end of the domed stadium. Nimuel was confidently imparting his story across his audience and for the umpteenth time mentioned also about the book entitled “Collection of Thoughts.” Mr. Nomer, immediately knew that it was the book he donated solely to the orphanage. Immediately after the speech, Nimuel expressed his gratitude to Mr. Nomer Rovales, and right at that moment showed to his audience the book he had been keeping all the times -- the book who became his inspiration to do the right thing. Nimuel lectured also that in life there were three doors needed to be entered: One door full of pictures to choose with, the second door are roads to a trail, and the third door is a tree bearing fruits to pick. What to reap in the fruit-bearing tree comes from the roots of one’s perseverance. Nimuel had pledged that he will print more copies of Mr. Nomer’s book as he personally acknowledged the significance of the book. Mr. Nomer could not express the joy inside his heart; at long last, his written works had earned recognition. Mr. Nomer without any words walked out of the stadium without introducing himself to Nimuel. Mr. Nomer was happy that way even without showing himself to the crowd as Nimuel talked about the author. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the years gone by, Mr. Nomer grew old along with the deterioration of his body. He confined himself in his room and used to read his draft copy of the book he donated to the orphanage, with tears in his eyes upon gazing in wonder at the cover of his book, someone knocked on his door, to his surprise it was none other than Nimuel at the doorstep holding a bound book with attractive design bearing the author’s name “Nomer Rovales.” Nimuel took Nomer’s hand and hugged him. The author’s face was in an unusual calmness when Nimuel touched his face, on closer approached; Nimuel realized that Nomer was dead. It was a sad reunion between the author and the once an orphan boy. The book had circulated all over the country and had become the best seller. Mr. Nomer’s pen and thoughts were resting now; all things have been in the desired place for God is really working to get the blessing back on all of us. Nomer was remembered as the author who made big changes with the life of an orphan boy. The End.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Submitted to Ezinearticles.com still pending approval for publication.</div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-33653369326922559162018-04-26T01:31:00.001-07:002018-04-26T01:31:13.694-07:00Someone Who Believes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUyHSsdC6-u-MI59SPCzR2yUe4wSjmtRWtMCu2t2gvhOgrpVy27t7qUQj_oul9YiWc6AwX3FlF0Gq0owJPd6oO2CGUwwGwUyAIsiM3hB6R3v89CyjS0wpkn4fpjpVIty9-iv2BxEN96g/s1600/cuddly-toy-handwriting-lonely-165263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1072" data-original-width="1600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUyHSsdC6-u-MI59SPCzR2yUe4wSjmtRWtMCu2t2gvhOgrpVy27t7qUQj_oul9YiWc6AwX3FlF0Gq0owJPd6oO2CGUwwGwUyAIsiM3hB6R3v89CyjS0wpkn4fpjpVIty9-iv2BxEN96g/s320/cuddly-toy-handwriting-lonely-165263.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Photo by Marina Shatskih from Pexels<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">Someone
Who Believes<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">If someone disbelieves you, it’s his will<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Your choice matters more than anyone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Follow your desire like wind over the hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">When you get there, catch a glimpse of the sun <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Earned your guests in a certain level of kindness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">It is a decree of sure winning your fellow’s trust<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Repair false service to free them from blindness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">While I serve, know no bound, only pure and just<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">It’s not a lost for lacking someone’s harbor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Feel you just belong to a bigger shelter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">For the heart of the mass will get you farther<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Things will get better in moments spent together<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Life is a battle that you don’t always compete<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Against the stronger or influential one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">But sooner or later the one who completes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Is the one who believes he/she can!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Along the search to find my political team<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">None other than an old friend showed me the way<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">To fulfill bigger step and claim what is in my dream<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">To talk about my name and cast one’s vote on Election Day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">A poem for my sister running for Barangay Councilor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">April 16, 2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-1176367269443343352018-04-26T01:26:00.001-07:002018-04-26T01:26:58.956-07:00Lovely at Your Age<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Lovely at Your Age <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">By: Noel N. Villarosa</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The thought of years feels remarkably well<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Like a hopscotch scheme, tossing, and hopping<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">In a numbered square where your aim will dwell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">In careful steps, everybody’s watching<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Blessed age is not too young or too old<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Candles on your birthday cake tell a tale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">In your age, love and care have all years told<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Another rendezvous, young heart prevails <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">For a moment feel free from your duties<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Let me take you for a lovely dinner<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Flowers and candle-lit room show beauties<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">For my wife, who’s lovelier than ever<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Small notes that I always stick to the wall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">April twenty-three is a birthday call<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Birthday poem for my wife<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">April 23, 2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-2444896497395384922018-04-26T01:20:00.002-07:002018-04-26T01:20:43.819-07:00Yard Birth Announcement (Prelude)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Yard Birth Announcement (Prelude)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">April 5, 2018</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Eleven years, yet that news unveiling<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Still resounds happiness that fills our heart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">You may write down your wish, still accepting<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">And out in the box new hope will start<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Embrace this day as another journey<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Stepping across the mown grass in a yard<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Scent of fulfillment, day will stay early<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">You will see the rainbow as wishing card<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The splendor of eleven years is heaping<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Of what you are now is so fast to keep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Days of moving and nights of dreaming <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">The childish moments in a whirlwind’s sweep<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Slowly branching out from our care<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">Where your fate will be, will follow our prayer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">April 5, 2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Copyright © <a href="https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=17877"><span style="color: #3366cc;">Noel Villarosa</span></a> | Year Posted 2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-68483755270126010512017-12-16T08:14:00.003-08:002017-12-16T20:53:40.247-08:00Out of Touch (Science Fiction Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Out of Touch (Science Fiction Story)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">By: Noel N. Villarosa</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">December 7, 2017</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Everyone who had witnessed his childhood days will be puzzled by his behavior. There was no one who can explain the behavior that he was furtively doing in distinctive gesture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He can't remember when it all started, he just found himself doing it upon after someone touching any part of his body or even a simple body contact when bumping each other. He can't help but shrug off any energy that he believes will adulterate the composition of the chemical element inside his body. Hand forming a snakehead and blowing his breath on his hand and covers the touched part of the body by tapping on it three times like a vacuum sucking all the trapped energy. He strongly believed that any negative energy will change his complex whole.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have observed the young boy and studied his behavior; otherwise, my suspicion cannot come true. With science in the background, there was the answer to all my arguments--what if this little boy has been used in a teleportation experiment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All the while, a guardian stranger had always monitored the little boy and they were always inside a hidden place called 'networks.' His guardian stranger called the little boy 'Zacky.' I was then a paid helper to the stranger guardian and he will always instruct me to do the cleaning and be fixing their mess inside the 'networks.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was one occasion that I finally vouched on my notion that the stranger was doing an experiment of a quantum teleportation. There were a massive collection of computers and an enclosed metallic glass cubicle where the little boy was put on a stand. And a kind of light emission will engulf the whole body of the little boy just like scanning his whole body down to the subatomic level, seeding a curated atom. Every day the stranger would measure the level of atoms that penetrates the little boy's body. He was building a colossal energy that will annihilate the physique and cells to be transformed into qubit. All the scanned information will go directly to the computer as a back-up. The captured atom or photon will be transmitted through entanglement between the sending and receiving location. It needed the speed of light as the newly converted molecules were mere qubits of information that can be conveyed between two entangled atoms.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The stranger created a medium that would have a refractive index and had built an optical computer around the networks that would process in the speed of light. He used a laser to send communication over long distance and the encoding and decoding were processed inside special chips via fiber optics.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When all the required mass of atoms were present inside Zacky's body, the atoms annihilated Zacky's body and passed through the computer using a rectifier to make a direct flow into an electronic circuit and then passed through into another cubicle attached in the computer to teleport the boy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The discrete energy of Zacky being proportionally elevated to the radiation will allow atoms to interweave and merge his identity at the other end of the cubicle creating a complete teleportation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The stranger understood those processes on his own term, but the disturbing fact was that the rest of the system was bogged down by the estranged energy that previously mixed up with Zacky's body during contact with other humans. The teleportation of Zacky's body was changed into a quasiparticle version of the Internet. Zacky's curated atoms were trapped inside the computer and could no longer find a way out of it, a connection to the computer had been Zacky's only communication into the outside world. Zacky had the ability to interact with the outside world through a voice and for the time being he became a phenomenal voice for those researching information on the internet. Zacky could travel from one place to another by uploading his presence in the computer. Zacky had been living throughout logging on to the computer and being teleported from one computer to another, but never his body. Zacky became the representation and interpretation of information inside a digital world. Zacky is out of physical touch, screen touching is the key to make him come alive again and will be serving you as the intelligent personal assistant.</span><br />
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Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366<br />
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Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9844681<br />
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-64285457108067046172017-12-01T17:25:00.001-08:002017-12-01T17:25:44.191-08:00The Railway Watchman and the Little Boy (Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Photo Credit: Maria Cecilia B. Villarosa<br />
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The Railway Watchman and the Little Boy (Short Story)<br />
By: Noel N. Villarosa<br />
November 27, 2017<br />
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During the ancient period, watchtowers were vital in overlooking the surrounding--for a watchman to see the situation and decide to send a warning or herald for a coming harvest. There are boundaries we need to put barriers to protect and prevent someone from getting hurt. Many centuries ago, there were objects and things that possessed magical power that can ward off the evil and bring luck to the owner. If the ship is the lumbering hulk of the sea, the road has its clunking train with sprightly speed. Everyone will be completely engrossed in the sound of steam whistled from its engine's metal innards.<br />
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In a bustling train terminal of old Manila, where train travels to or from the north or south ends of Luzon. Many captivating moments were registered in the mind of a young boy named Gabriel. In his youthful mind, there were many questions that need an answer, like the many different kinds of signage he saw in the crossing, but one thing he got interested in was the saltire sign also called Saint Andrews Cross. In what the signage was referring to was where his fate will take him.<br />
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Once in the train station, the conductor called that all passengers be aboard, as the train will be leaving. The lady said to the conductor, "Please wait my son Gabriel is still outside." Her husband got off to look for Gabriel.<br />
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During the occupied time of lifting their luggage, Gabriel had let go of his mother's skirt. Gabriel was persuaded to see what was happening in the run-round loop track. In there, he saw locomotive being attached to the opposite end of the train. The need to detach and reattach the locomotive motivated little Gabriel to approach the watchman inside his wee shed just near the level crossing. Gabriel politely asked the old watchman, "Sir, what is the purpose of that detaching and attaching of the locomotive?" The old watchman puffed on his tobacco before he replied to Gabriel, "That's what you called the terminal headshunt where it allows the locomotive to dissociate itself from its train. That is the intent of moving it to the opposite end and then pulling the train out of the station into another direction." Gabriel excitedly answered, "That's interesting, and may I know your name, sir?" "You can call me, Filomino or Pilo for short," as the watchman puffed again on his tobacco. Gabriel aimlessly looked at the cross signage and then asked, "Mr. Pilo, what is that cross signage for?" The watchman while pointing toward the location of the signpost said, "That is the 'saltire' or the 'Saint Andrews Cross' that is to warn road users for a coming train. I am responsible to stop passersby with vehicles or no vehicles and to clear the tracks." "I have witnessed many accidents afar from this point, as many people braved in crossing the track in a way to cut their long walk heading to the other side of the road," continued by Pilo.<br />
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It must be fairly evident now to Gabriel that he needs to dwell on the age-old warning of Stop, Look and Listen which is the most sensible thing that he can do.<br />
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Mr. Pilo gave Gabriel some tips to remember while riding a train. During his travels, Gabriel should stay track on the exact location of every signal that he gets to see and try to remember any remarkable things behind those signals. Gabriel should be aware not only on the physical condition of the train but also of the crew who is manning the train.<br />
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Mr. Pilo shared many stories to Gabriel, like accidents whose fate caused by humans themselves. Lack of awareness was one thing that caused many railways' death. Mostly careless crossing, unaware that there were two tracks to look at -- the northbound and the southbound that caused their untimely death. Mr. Pilo as an experienced watchman and a book fanatic about train survival guide had also shared few tips that might help to survive a train mishap. Mr. Pilo pointed out the importance of finding the safest seat which will prevent him from any kind of collision. It will be a safe seat in the middle section of the car during a collision and if it was a derailment--the one seated on a car at least one or two back from the center of the train will be a safe seat. But nobody will ever foresee an accident. If one had to choose which side of a seat was safer, one must grab an aisle seat which was the rear-facing aisle seat toward the back of the train. It was also self-explanatory to always pay attention to announcement from train conductor for any situation inside and outside the train. Mr. Pilo also explained the importance of using every emergency alarm to alert the train driver. If there was a need to jump off a train, one needed to jump off at the end of the last car. The last car was at least running slow and it was safe to jump off at this pace. Mr. Pilo talked about the location of all emergency windows and the proper pulling off the rubber ring colored red to lift it and also with the panel of its doors. Mr. Pilo also advised Gabriel to familiarize himself with the different emergency signs located inside the train. Mr. Pilo finally instructed Gabriel that during a helter-skelter situation, he must always be alert in analyzing the situation and must be loaded with much of unswerving determination to survive and save other lives if he can.<br />
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As Mr. Pilo turning his eyes heavenward, he prayed for a safe travel of Gabriel and his family. Gabriel happily thanked Mr. Pilo for sharing his vast knowledge of being a prepper and a survivalist. Gabriel as a token of appreciation gave his lucky coin to Mr. Pilo. As the train was about to leave, from a sheer sound calling Gabriel's name became louder as his father came approaching. "Mr. Pilo, this is my father, Mr. Joselito," introduced by Gabriel. "Hello, it's nice I've met you with my son," politely uttered by Mr. Joselito. ""We have been looking for you Gabriel, where have you been all the while?" continued by Mr. Joselito. "I am having a meaningful conversation with Mr. Pilo, and now I am packed with so much knowledge about travel awareness," answered by Gabriel. "I am so thankful to you Mr. Pilo, and it is nice to meet you, the train will depart now, cheerio and will see you again," mentioned by Mr. Joselito. "Have a safe travel, God bless you," responded by Mr. Pilo.<br />
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As father and son were supposed to leave, Gabriel went back to Mr. Pilo and whispered him, "That coin I handed to you was minted in the leap year and was found by my father outside during a storm with its head side up, as told by old folks that kind of coin is a luck-bringer. If and only a green grasshopper would crawl into that coin will be a harbinger of danger." Gabriel reminded.<br />
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The solemn-looking watchman although feared the superstitious belief of the little boy just waved goodbye to both folks and went back to his office. Mr. Pilo staring out at the foggy train-tracks from the window had started hearing the clickety-clackety sound as the train where Gabriel and his family were riding went rolling away from the platform.<br />
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It was Gabriel's first time to ride a train bound to his parent's province--Bicol. It was sad for him to visit his grandfather's wake. The unsteady shaking of the train added excitement to Gabriel, as he tried to walk around every car. Gabriel had closely observed every passenger and the souvenir gifts they were bringing to their family and relatives. There was one scene that captured his attention when he saw a mother trying to hide her child from a roving conductor--for that child had no ticket to show. Big and small boxes, a can of assorted biscuits were the usual items brought by the passengers. Side by side, passengers got along with other passengers; they have so much time having a leisurely talk during this 10-hour ride.<br />
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Come evening, all were resting in their designated seat and sound asleep, while Gabriel enjoyed peeping on the window looking the fast viewing of outside sceneries and the frequent site of twinkling lights from fireflies attached to the trees or sometimes just outside the windows. His father told him that during his childhood rides, that the windows were open, unlike Gabriel's time, the windows have clear sturdy glass protected by metal screen grates to block stones hurled by people living along the tracks. The train would usually have a stopover at every station to allow passengers to shake off stiff muscles during a long seating. Gabriel had the fun of buying foods at the laid-back food stalls or to peddlers.<br />
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The next morning, the train arrived at Naga City. Gabriel and his parents looked for a jeepney that would bring them to his grandfather's house. The journey had been so tiring and the only consolation they got was traversing along with green rice fields and tall coconut trees. They got off in the marketplace and entered small alley leading to his grandfather's house. They paid respect to the dead and later joined other relatives for exchanging inquiries. Their stays have become less tense and worry-free, away from the noisy and busy city. Gabriel used to play with his cousins in the park and tried many outdoor games. Gabriel had so much fun. In one occasion while searching for adult female orb-weavers suitable for spider fighting, Gabriel accidentally stumbled upon a silver chain arrowhead along with a pendant that looks like an eye. Gabriel picked it up and went home. The little boy proudly showed it to all the guests in the house, and one elder recognized it, telling that the arrowhead silver chain was believed will protect the wearer from illness and guards against the evil eye while the pendant with an eye was known to be the Eye of Horus which was an ancient symbol associated with supernatural powers in perceiving things beyond the senses. Gabriel with superstitious beliefs took it seriously and kept it wherever he goes. Those amulets will be more powerful if the one who wears it has a kind heart.<br />
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The day had come when Gabriel and his parents were about to leave. They said goodbye to their relatives and thanked them for such a memorable stay. They went ahead to the train station. Their travel will again be a long and a winding trip. Gabriel wearing his two amulets turned his eyes heavenward and prayed for deliverance.<br />
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Back at the Tutuban station where Mr. Pilo was expecting an early morning train to arrive had put the lucky coin on the window sill. Unexpectedly, a green grasshopper perched on the coin. Mr. Pilo shaken with fears did the sign of the cross and went outside to observe what was unusual.<br />
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As evening fell and it grew quietly, Gabriel had fallen to sleep, only his body was inactive but his other senses had picked up a threatening danger. Gabriel clearly saw a danger in the next daybreak the train they were riding will slip off the rails just about 1 mile from Tutuban station. Gabriel ignored the first warning sign, but as the time went by--the more unpleasant emotion caused by his belief that something was unlikely to happen. Gabriel's only recourse was to tell this to his parents. "Father, I have a premonition of an imminent disaster which transpired in my dreams," confessed by Gabriel. Mr. Joselito touched the two talismans that Gabriel had been wearing and said, "This pendant of the Eye of Horus had helped you to see events beyond the normal senses, even if it is unconvincing, I must warn the train driver to keep the train at slower pace, although I might appear ridiculous, we must keep the safeness of all the passengers," replied by Mr. Joselito.<br />
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At the Tutuban station, Mr. Pilo kept thinking of Gabriel's admonition, not wasting any time, he called for his backup personnel to relieve his post as he got the parked handcar and drove it southward to check any broken rails, he was bringing with him a kerosene lamp to impart a good range of brightness to his path, he steered the handcar as far as it could until his handcar fell out the rails and that was the impending danger that his superstitious belief was telling him. From that point of the broken rails, Mr. Pilo continued to steer the handcar onward up to longer miles as far as where the broken rails were spotted. When Mr. Pilo thought that he was at least two or three miles away from where the broken rails were spotted, he immediately radioed back to the locomotive engineers and reported the broken rails on a curve at a distance of 1 mile from the level crossing that they need to close the railway crossing and send alarm signal for vehicles. Mr. Pilo set aside the handcar and stood guarding beside the railway, if any time he will see the train was coming, he will send a signal by waving the kerosene lamp to the approaching train.<br />
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Back inside the train, Mr. Joselito approached the train driver and had told of the danger, but the train driver had no way to believe such supposition. Mr. Joselito told the train driver that if in any way he believes superstitious now was the time to heed his warning. The train driver just replied, "In a short time we will be reaching the station, you need to sit down as everything is alright unless I received a call from my radio relaying for an emergency stop of this train." Mr. Joselito could do nothing but to pray that what little Gabriel saw in his dreams will never happen. The train was running at about 45 miles per hour, more than three times the supposed speed limit along that curve of the track, which had broken rails.<br />
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Many incidents happened, that railway track had portions not securely welded down and sometimes residents pilfered more metal parts causing derailment accident.<br />
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At a distance of three miles from where Mr. Pilo was stood guarding the railway. The train driver received a radio call from the locomotive engineer instructing him to reduce the speed as they were approaching broken rails just 1 mile from the level crossing. Upon receiving the warning, the train driver immediately reduced the speed and increased the light from its headlight and ditch lights with accompanying sound from its horn four times (long-long-short-long). The loud noise reverberated from where Mr. Pilo was standing. Mr. Pilo immediately stepped in the railway and waved his kerosene lamp to send a signal to the approaching train. At a close distance the train driver saw the waving lamp at exactly the train had started reducing its speed, a rail squeal sounded making all passengers hold tight as seated. All their hearts pounded and trembled with fear as everyone bathed in sweats after that terrifying moment. The train had successfully made a full stop before reaching another mile.<br />
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Mr. Pilo clambered up the train's door and checked if everyone was unhurt. At the last car, he found Gabriel and his family very safe. Gabriel ran toward Mr. Pilo and embraced him as their savior. "Thank you, Mr. Pilo for your strong determination to save lives," said by Gabriel. Mr. Pilo while holding the lucky coin that Gabriel gave him, said, "Thanked also this lucky coin that you gave me, it is really a godsend."<br />
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Being stranded there, the desirous waiting for a quick fix of the broken rails had produced a good result. All the passengers were safely transported back to the station platform. Some went to the beanery to satisfy their hunger, while Gabriel and his parents stayed with Mr. Pilo telling every detail of the story.<br />
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If two souls will be interacting through their superstitious belief, there will be a strong positive energy that will tailor favorable events. The train gives different thrills in our journey. It may clear the way of other's route. In the cold and misty evening, drizzling morning come, its structure still gleaming while slowly moving away from the station and into its destination. Its motion is full of clunking and screeching and rolling down the old track passing through villages just like gentle beats in the middle of the night.<br />
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Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366<br />
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Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9837373</div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-71321647812395739502017-11-13T19:58:00.002-08:002017-11-14T03:15:15.430-08:00Super Mustache Man (Fictional Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUi4o-iO6UxhndCvWDBOa88mYRpOBNwxfUTUcKnGXfzA8dZrXtMhXXVCBKjAgsSzGWE0SJuRTwvvaDCQ3ex_1q7WQ60_njG0gJuQ3qILfCrpl-xVYvFLpaVZoDT2_zKuj8OrtuQKBfzU/s1600/Mustache+Man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwUi4o-iO6UxhndCvWDBOa88mYRpOBNwxfUTUcKnGXfzA8dZrXtMhXXVCBKjAgsSzGWE0SJuRTwvvaDCQ3ex_1q7WQ60_njG0gJuQ3qILfCrpl-xVYvFLpaVZoDT2_zKuj8OrtuQKBfzU/s320/Mustache+Man.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Photo Credit: Illustration by Pio Noel B. Villarosa<br />
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Super Mustache Man (Fictional Short Story)<o:p></o:p></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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November 8, 2017<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">In movies and comic books
are the real world for superheroes, but one man has fallen seriously in taking
the praise and aspiring to be doing heroic acts. Mr. Motly couldn’t get enough
of superheroes so he pondered so much of what it would be like them. A dream
weaver as he fondly attracted his subconscious mind to form creative
information. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">As the clock sets forth, Mr.
Motly’s evocative mind has turned back the time into his boyhood days nurtured
by full of figments of the imagination. He remembered creating stories for all
his miniature plastic toy soldiers and always fell dreaming of flying by the
gesture of flapping his arms and feet. Growing up in a small town near a river
where the many flows of life embarked and ended like the dramatic changes of
the ones breathtaking water into a wan-looking river. Mr. Motly relinquished
the good old days and has notably fashioned a hirsute upper lip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">The biggest fear that one
has to live for the rest of his life is living in increasingly perilous times.
The world seems to be in a vulnerable situation from a back to back violence:
Homicide, violence against children, women, and the weak one. As we live in a
world where serenity is besieged by doubts because of man-made disasters like
terrorism, mass murder, conflicts, and much violence committed against humans
and not to forget also the natural disasters. Everyone wrestles with fear,
worrying about the chances of falling to such viciousness. Dangers are lurking
behind every corner--where can one run to ask for help? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">Every single day, Mr. Motly
had thought of the helpless persons just in need of a savior like a superhero.
He argued that with the advances in medicine and technology he will be able to
succeed in performing the invincible superheroes. Mr. Motly considered also the
applicable medications in increasing the mind function and the nanotechnology
that may intensify his physique. Mr. Motly was very clear to himself of
becoming a knight in shining armor for the feeble one. Mr. Motly trained so
hard to build a stronger body. He perfected slugfest and his kick; he practiced
impeccable moves to destroy the hooligans. During a long confined workout, he
developed beefy shoulders with herculean strength. Once he gained the
confidence of his skills, he started contemplating on his identity, in what
suit he would clad as reminiscent of a superhero. Since Mr. Motley has a
dashing charisma of his mustache, he liked it to be exposed. He donned a
powerful exoskeleton like armored suit under a black suit pairing it with an
ascot cap and covering his eye-nose area with a mask. His tactical pants paired
with tactical boots. Only one weapon he chose in toting with him was a pair of
Arnis--a non-bladed weapon made from flexible rattan sticks to disarm and to
subdue the enemy. Mr. Motly will use his skills to counter daily crime and
saving the innocent. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">In the evening where crimes
would usually take place, Mr. Motly would go around riding on his motorcycle
and will watch the serenity of the place, he kept vigilance for someone to
rescue from a life-threatening situation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">In the next morning,
witnesses shared stories about a good Samaritan with hidden identity who had
rescued a woman from her abductors. The witnesses described how the masked man
shielded the woman from gunshot and how the unidentified man used his skills of
the Arnis by disarming and conquering the outlaws.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">Each morning, stories about
the masked man were all over the newspaper, revealing the heroic acts. Many
horrified hotel guests retelling a gruesome night when a gunman’s incessant
shooting brought traumas on them while one selfless person stepped inside and
shepherded dozens to safety and finally tucked the gunman inside the prison
cell. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">The next evening, when one
apartment was ablaze and ready to collapse, the masked man got those trapped
out of dangers. The mysterious man would be seen hanging around with street
children showing magic tricks to entertain and sometimes would teach the
children with things learned inside the school as he wanted them to keep away
from illegal activities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">It’s a matter of depriving
positive human qualities, spreading false beliefs, absurd promise, irrational
principle, moral retraction, and identity concealment that evil ways are
fostered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">Someone will emerge to
defend those lacking the power to fight back. The courage to protect someone
from harm is a duty to defend a moral cause without expecting any reward in
return. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">On many encounters, one could
not stop in asking who’s hiding behind the mask; Mr. Motly respectably replied
to them, “Super Mustache Man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"><span style="background-color: #dddddd; color: #333333; font-family: "avenir next" , "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: normal;">Article Source: </span><a href="http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366" style="background-color: #dddddd; color: #610000; font-family: "Avenir Next", Arial, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start;">http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366</a><span style="background-color: #dddddd; color: #333333; font-family: "avenir next" , "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: normal;"><br /><br />Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9826221</span></span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-5742182353462515702017-10-29T03:02:00.001-07:002017-10-29T03:02:02.966-07:00In Search of Yesterday (Science Fiction Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-eZt6u3lVTSHdLD8NL8sl4zAgkyERMFJ-KwqOBiB7VhPAxn9DikPaxngHzd14ukAvFGalfsdOOJRRMQKGeaA1ZV1J2CjYv8E7w-lmP3laZ2qUCeZL2rE2_tFeYiefpcduvTwFMk8PQ0/s1600/EarthSpaceship+clip+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="681" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0-eZt6u3lVTSHdLD8NL8sl4zAgkyERMFJ-KwqOBiB7VhPAxn9DikPaxngHzd14ukAvFGalfsdOOJRRMQKGeaA1ZV1J2CjYv8E7w-lmP3laZ2qUCeZL2rE2_tFeYiefpcduvTwFMk8PQ0/s400/EarthSpaceship+clip+art.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>
Illustration by: Noel N. Villarosa using Microsoft Clip Art and Shapes<br />
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In Search of Yesterday (Science Fiction Story)<o:p></o:p></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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October 23, 2017<o:p></o:p></div>
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"There was totally no trace
of certainty, everything that you will see has no resemblance of whatever
connection in the past," mumbled by Oberon. In his mind, there was
something a passage of time that needed to fill in the nexus.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oberon was a young biologist who
lived in outer space in a biodome. What brought him into the cosmic void was
completely out of his understanding. There's even bigger reason to bring a
bigger picture of the connection in the past. Strange things happening inside
the biodome, people started to hate or got bored of their everyday life.
Advanced technologies were pushing them in the inept handling of their daily
tasks. As everything in this little world of capsule they lived in was right
off the bat a torpid condition.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All communications were being
transmitted in a microchip installed inside their brain, no handheld devices,
and everything existed in thoughts just pairing in the outside place of not
having a concrete existence. None of them knew about the blue marble planet
called Earth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The space habitats have no idea
what really happened to planet Earth. It has become a barren wasteland and
never recovers from its asphyxiating atmosphere augmented by the continuous
casting of UV radiation. It was the habitat's ancestor who tried to salvage
what could be saved in the planet Earth but only a single ecosphere that they
could assemble in a miniature glass was able to settle in the biodome. The
ancestors tried to terraform the planet Earth but only little they could put in
place. It has been a cautionary tale to reconnect in the past so the ancestors
tried to expunge the face of Earth from the survivor and try to introduce them
an automatic environment where everything was applied in visual illusion.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oberon being a biologist was
curious of what has been left to them by the ancestor--the ecosphere. From here
he started to learn on why the living things stayed alive in spite of its only
access into an artificial light. Oberon considered it as the greatest
breakthrough in the field of science and he wanted to stretch more his study on
this matter. Oberon tried the process of DNA replication of the species and as
soon as it multiplies in generous numbers, Oberon immediately put this in an
empty transparent glass. Every day Oberon has become a creator of a magnificent
discovery and was planning to implant this back to the so-called lost Earth.
Oberon needed few more time to put all of these into the final stage. But where
in the vast galaxy the planet Earth could be found was not a serious dilemma because
the ancestor left a spaceship for them to explore the galaxy and to find again
the blue planet Earth. As everything was already, the team of Oberon launched a
search for the lost Earth. Long before the ancestor left planet Earth, they put
a tracking device on planet Earth and connect it into the spaceship, this made
the journey of Oberon and his team easy in tracing back the planet Earth. It
was very splendid for Oberon and his team to finally see from the distance the
blue planet Earth. They have brought with them many cryogenic tanks of O2 in
order to breathe under an asphyxiating atmosphere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In the beginning was overlaying
the microorganisms into the ground like the nitrogen-fixing bacteria; they see
to it that there is enough water reserved under the ground. And the rest would
be a process in contributing to the nitrogen cycle. They have to fill-up the
atmosphere with its two important main components --nitrogen and oxygen. Oberon
and his team had established a proper selection of the organisms, animals, and
plants to form an ecological balance and along the process of photosynthesis by
using the sunlight's energy to take those carbons released by plants and
tethering it to make sugars thus releasing the oxygen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The next important thing they did
was proving that the greenhouse effect has its primary gases all put in the
earth's atmosphere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Oberon and his team seriously
considered that if they could replenish the earth with all the natural
greenhouse gases could be a great chance in supporting life back to earth.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, when everything has
begun shaping the atmosphere back into its original form, the earth evolved
into a breathing planet where humans, plants, and animals contribute to
conserve and recycle the resources in order to maintain a breathable
atmosphere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
A long time ago when earth's
essential energies ruptured against human time, the effect was so devastating
that the new inhabitants of the earth have enough in deciding to preserve the
blue planet earth and to avoid putting life in a strange capsulized world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Many years have passed and the
transformation was an image of earth with protective atmosphere overshadowing
many forms of life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Oberon and his team have
succeeded in making Earth fit for occupation, putting life inside their own
home. They started educating the new inhabitants of the catastrophic effect of
atmospheric deterioration and warned them to be vigilant of the earth's
condition.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
"One day we will explore
more about the physical universe beyond the earth's atmosphere, who knows maybe
one day we will find a near replica of our planet earth," Oberon said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Article Source: <a href="http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: #DDDDDD;"><br />
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Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9815394</span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-62177431724880972512017-10-21T20:59:00.001-07:002017-10-25T21:41:38.602-07:00The Overseas Worker and the Talking Bird (Personal Short Story)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Illustration by: Noel N. Villarosa using Mircrosoft Word Clip Art and Shapes</span></div>
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<td></td>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
<span style="text-align: justify;">The Overseas Worker and the Talking
Bird</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
October 9, 2017<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It was in the year 1973 when
Filipinos first came in Saudi Arabia. During those years, Saudi Arabia has
become the job destination for OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers). With a flourishing
economy and high wages offered, the fears and worries could no longer stop
Filipinos in looking greener pastures abroad.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Leo, a hardworking, family
oriented Filipino decided to avail his early retirement and applied through an
agency to work in Saudi Arabia, luckily he was accepted for a job in a company
recognized as one of the largest desalination plants in the middle east.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
They were ten Filipinos who
landed a job at the same company. Leo remembered the principles that must be
followed while traveling in Saudi Arabia that if one will bring old bad habits,
they should not come in this place. One must obey their laws and show respect
to their culture, and you will not meet any troubles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When they arrived at Riyadh
airport, they were greeted and welcomed by the company's representatives and
have led them into a domestic airline that would bring them to Dammam. It was a
very tiring destination considering the weather condition was so humid. Upon
getting off the plane, they were escorted to a bus that will bring them to the
plant site. Most of them have already visited Saudi Arabia, but for Leo, it was
his first time to go in a foreign country. Nobody knows that it was Leo's
birthday when they arrived at the accommodation. At first they were happy with
the fact that they were with their fellow Filipinos, being friends and all
staying at the temporary apartment, and they were only for a couple of days to
be together, and later will be dispatched to the flat which should be inhabited
for the rest of their stay was a dismal moment. Leo and one Filipino whom he
met during the pre-departure orientation in the Philippines has become his
closest friend. It was the month of August where humidity was at elevated scale
when Leo and his friend searched for their flat. The condition of the
surrounding was moist, and unexpectedly Leo's left knee struck pain
uncontrollably. Leo almost squeezed his legs just to get a fix of the pain. The
two Filipinos continued and did not want to delay the search for their flat; what
made it harder was the numbering of the houses was confusing because it was
inconsistent with the sequence of the houses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
When they identified their flat,
they were very thankful and they were welcomed by their fellow Filipinos. In
the flat, there were other three Filipinos that will be living with them. Leo
has accepted the reality that living with others that were not blood-related
would be difficult of getting comradeship with others.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Many months passed and turned
into a year. Leo has accepted the fact that the rest of his stay will be empty
and the painful truth of having an intangible communication with loved ones.
But in all the more admirable news that gave the kindest regards into Leo's
existence was the vital information heralded by his wife that Leo will soon
become a father. In Leo's uncontrolled excitement, he told this to all his
housemates and declared that all of them will be his son's godfather, while
everyone acceded, they shared the feast that Leo has prepared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Just after a year and a half,
Leo's friend was not taking it so well to stay longer in his assigned
department and not for long; Leo's friend went on vacation and did not come
back. Only four Filipinos were left in that flat. And just after three years
another Filipino resigned and transferred into another company with a high
salary and more attractive benefits. From the original five now down to only
three Filipinos staying in the flat. After seven years, another housemate
decided to join another Filipino in another flat and permanently moved there.
Now only Leo and another Filipino named Rolly were left on the flat. In Rolly's
account that he will be soon retiring, only waiting for one year more and only
Leo will be left in the flat. Rolly preferred to leave a good memory for Leo and
he learned that Leo was not easy to get along with somebody who's having bad
manners; he decided to acquire a mynah bird and planned to train it to talk. He
had taken one fledgling that had dropped from its nest and immediately took
hold of it and run away from its mother chase. He brought it home, put inside
the cage but apparently, the mynah bird was indisposed of its new home. Rolly
tried hard to comfort the bird, gave it water and food to consume but the bird
did not respond to the kindness and eventually died from intentionally refusing
to eat its food.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
That was the first attempt of
harboring a bird inside the flat. Rolly was not giving up in finding another
mynah bird, he looked again for another mynah fledgling, and someone taught him
that a brood of chicks was easy to teach a language. One day, as Rolly opened a
door leading to the terrace, he saw a fast flight of a mynah bird, when he
looked around at every paved area of the terrace, just at the top of the door
was a collected twig, leaves and grasses forming a cup-shaped empty nest. Rolly
began to think that any time the mynah bird will come back and will lay its
eggs. Rolly took time to wait until after a week he quietly made a furtive look
at the nest while the mother bird was away foraging for food to feed its chick.
Rolly was surprised to find a tiny unsteady chick. Rolly decided to take the
chick out of its nest and brought it inside his room. This time Rolly changed
his approach in taking care of the new bird. Every day he would sit nearby the
cage and would talk to the bird, he even let the bird out of its cage and
freely roamed around inside the flat; he also put a mirror to reflect its image
and tricking it to be with another bird. The new fledgling developed its wings
and builds and introduced the bird to Leo. Leo started to befriend the bird and
every day he would introduce simple words for the bird to imitate. In the
morning, Leo would greet the bird "good morning" and upon leaving,
Leo would say "goodbye." Leo let the bird knew its name, in every
talk, he would say "hi mynah" and pointing to the bird, "your
name" and pointing to his self, "I am Leo."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Every day this has been the
routine until the bird got acquainted with all of these. It was like another
roommate had come to fill camaraderie. Leo started to feel complacency with the
newly found friend. The flat was filled with fun for the three companions.
Mynah was allowed to roam around the flat and whenever the two Filipinos will
leave and attend duty for work, they will provide foods for mynah. After one
year, Rolly reached his retirement age and it was time to exit. Leo and Rolly
made a promise that they will see each other when back to the Philippines. That
moment was so sad; Leo accompanied Rolly to the airport and parted ways. Leo
returned to his flat feeling empty and all alone, but all the loneliness was
relieved by the sound of mynah who greeted him "hello welcome back,"
and that phrase made Leo come alive again with so much hope to sustain a
longing companionship. Leo has still three years more to keep before his
expected retirement, with his companion mynah, he made every single day
ordinary and more interesting with setting a family talked on the other side of
the phone or video call, it made him everyday struggle of homesickness into the
negligible matter. After one, two and the third year and final year for Leo, it
was time for his most awaited retirement and to be reunited again with his
loved ones was also a feeling of melancholy for such an occasion that he will
also be separating from his companion mynah bird. It was past three in the
afternoon, all bags were packed and ready to go. Leo held mynah for the last
time and whispered to the bird, "Thank you my friend, for the years that
we established a good rapport with each other, but we have come to the point of
our life that we need to part ways and say goodbye, we are both destined to
meet and fulfill our dreams, our purpose and most especially finding what
happiness really means to us, I have come to select you and be my companion and
you by chance accepted the fact that I needed you, and in return gave you a
gift that other birds won't have and that was the ability to talk, keep that
skills as unique just for you and maybe that will hold our communication alive
again, who knows maybe we will meet again, for God is so kind to make
everything possible, who knows." Mynah bird bobbed its head and said,
"Goodbye" "I will miss you."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
Leo held mynah and massaged its
black hooded head and they both went to the balcony where there were many
trees, and Leo put his hands holding mynah outside the window and softly
released mynah from his hands and waved goodbye.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Leo picked up all the luggage,
one more time looked around at every corner of the flat where he lived for
almost 20 years and went down the stairs, but at the very moment that he will
be embarking inside the car, he heard squawks of mynah just above the rooftop
of the flat, again Leo waved his hands to mynah and went inside the cab. Leo
saw mynah flew around making one more contemplating of the place and then
vanished completely.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
In our life journey, we have been
accompanied by somebody and somewhere in an amazingly circumstances by an
unexpected someone who by the good gestures of our great creator has been sent
to us for a purpose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Article Source: <a href="http://ezinearticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366"><span style="color: windowtext;">http://EzineArticles.com/expert/Noel_Nicolas_Villarosa/1158366</span></a><o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="background: #dddddd; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br />
<br />
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/9808470</span><br />
<span style="background: #dddddd; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: #dddddd; font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-8546312067401970032017-10-21T20:50:00.001-07:002017-10-25T21:45:22.207-07:00That One Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVoLIjFtxwcrBcpJNBNL3agEP09KYWmxzAO9z0VULT782o10yolzhzT1-ZrPRswjTrcS06sCLWZVS7a00aIyBB88aTOlN3C7lVSntrpv25SeJusI9UnwyFcHhngLe-YieYJY9pQ-K_Do/s1600/a-beautiful-day-2247264_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVoLIjFtxwcrBcpJNBNL3agEP09KYWmxzAO9z0VULT782o10yolzhzT1-ZrPRswjTrcS06sCLWZVS7a00aIyBB88aTOlN3C7lVSntrpv25SeJusI9UnwyFcHhngLe-YieYJY9pQ-K_Do/s320/a-beautiful-day-2247264_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Photo credit: <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/a-beautiful-day-good-mood-joy-2247264/">https://pixabay.com/en/a-beautiful-day-good-mood-joy-2247264/</a></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">That One Day<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">October 17, 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">One day your smile will no
longer be vibrant<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But I will try to overlay it
with a kiss that reminds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">If caring eyes will turn out to
be an empty stare<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then I will tell a story to
start a flare<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Your hands that hold the
molds of purity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Your legacy will hold us in a
binding unity<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">We are the closest of your
resemblance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">But that clasp so binding now
a fading remembrance<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">That one day your breath
chasing the shadow of time<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Then I will hold you so close
to breathe out my rhyme<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I know that moment will
launch aeonian regrets<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It is hard to let go, it will
be uneasy to forget<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">That one day I pray to be my
day instead<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">For in heaven there’s another
life ahead<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">If heaven will decide, I will
abide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I pray that day will be a
swift light slide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Posted also: www.poetrysoup.com</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-81274404388369929202017-05-02T20:56:00.003-07:002017-05-02T20:58:56.740-07:00The Covenant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFBl4SqffH-cXz8y0kl1-INu_hlTFXuJIZn3sdF7yQXEMDgYp9kimt9HooZ1UerOcIpAhrKvNM-4gNBoxmTl5lV-qRCOQg-ewAC3CWk1LXQWs2mFkeSH4ASoFTmaaz5k9a22zpiCUVNg/s1600/religion-1976790_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFBl4SqffH-cXz8y0kl1-INu_hlTFXuJIZn3sdF7yQXEMDgYp9kimt9HooZ1UerOcIpAhrKvNM-4gNBoxmTl5lV-qRCOQg-ewAC3CWk1LXQWs2mFkeSH4ASoFTmaaz5k9a22zpiCUVNg/s400/religion-1976790_1920.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Photo Credit: <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/religion-jesus-baptism-faith-fish-1976790/">https://pixabay.com/en/religion-jesus-baptism-faith-fish-1976790/</a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The Covenant<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">(Sonnet Form)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> May 3, 2017</span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Take my humbleness, I submit myself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">To a great God, that feels my lowliness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I have sinned; fear to be left on the shelf<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I have been inspired by His Holiness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Hates dwell on us, wicked dimmed the light<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For the reason of His crucifixion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He dealt agony longer than the night<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The sin labeled in our soul’s inscription<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For a long time, faith coated with verglas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Gone are many squalls during the daylight<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All the noble trees stunted bladed grass<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The wind whispers name for a wakeful flight<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We are dust, and to dust, we shall return<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His resurrection, no one left forlorn</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Posted also: www.poetrysoup.com</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-7348351711722410462017-04-23T23:02:00.001-07:002017-04-23T23:05:01.575-07:00My Little Archer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAwrwh1QywTOl6lmfpc7725ixNKcei9cXzQxMS8aaa8cM3blVYqFyUdV4GNkIaex1nPMUEM1KmcO2rR57a_vP98BqxZQ7s8hd-4Q_Q9DbeEGG4MXUDyU0_QO3BSISGGYASy1gARqdSdQ/s1600/IMG_20170419_161641_0_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAwrwh1QywTOl6lmfpc7725ixNKcei9cXzQxMS8aaa8cM3blVYqFyUdV4GNkIaex1nPMUEM1KmcO2rR57a_vP98BqxZQ7s8hd-4Q_Q9DbeEGG4MXUDyU0_QO3BSISGGYASy1gARqdSdQ/s320/IMG_20170419_161641_0_.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
Photo credit: Maria Cecilia B. Villarosa<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My Little Archer<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Sonnet Form)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">April 24, 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not cupid with wings to snare<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I stood to trust with my dominant eye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My arrow’s end reaped a feather from lair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Grasped the bowstring, appeared ready to vie<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Released my strength and listened to my breath<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As force was pulling it down to the ground<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That challenged distance and danced to death<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Arrows braved the wind and fled being drowned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My creed will not fail in hitting the mark<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Object remained aloof from where I stood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Aimed the high and enjoyed the morning lark<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Dreaming one day to hit like Robin Hood<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Whispered the bullseye to catch my arrow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Or hang my quiver and try tomorrow</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Posted also: www.poetrysoup.com</span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-73511232672416652102016-11-30T23:29:00.001-08:002018-08-07T01:45:20.550-07:00The Arrogant Man (Short Story for Children)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The Arrogant Man (Short Story for Children)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">29 November 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">There lived a man named Nadham, a well-respected elder in their village. He was known to be intelligent but arrogant in dealing with his neighborhood. Many times he would ridicule low profile and slow learner person in a manner to have others looked at him with high respect at all times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Nadham’s voice will always resound like a mighty echo to be heard by other people around and that was what he wanted to create. He was a tyrant to be feared by his subordinates. There were no times that you would hear him talked in a gentle soft voice. That made everyone in the village talked about his ill-mannered behavior; nobody wants to talk to him being scared to be ridiculed in front of others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The village was perfectly situated in the middle of big mountains. One morning while everyone was preparing to start their usual daily routine, Nadham went out of his house and was looking for a person to be ridiculed, but everyone seems to avoid him, nobody was paying attention to his presence, and everybody just walked and went past on him. Nadham got very angry and made his loudest scream, “Why nobody wants to talk to me!” His voice echoed into the surrounding mountains and into every terrain. But his voice resounded all alone, only echoed his mocking shout, and reverberated back into his ears. At that moment, it played back in his mind, all the bad habits he has done in the past, and like a lightning bolt, pain struck his heart on what that echo has told him. That a ridiculing shout would only be reverting an empty shout that had put him in a witless situation if everybody will just ignore it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Now deep inside Nadham’s heart was a lesson to be learned that not all the times you will prevail in an insulting shout. Sometimes in quiet times, a humiliating voice will find a way to ridicule you in a situation far from your expectation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">From then on, Nadham has changed from being dominant into a polite person. He then mastered talking in a soft voice and will always ask if he had said hurting words and would ask forgiveness. The End.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-41767235112922838762016-08-07T23:30:00.001-07:002018-08-09T00:26:08.336-07:00The Four Travellers (Short story for children)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Four Travellers (Short story for children)<o:p></o:p></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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7 August 2016<o:p></o:p></div>
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Once there were four travellers on a journey, packed with their own skills and expertise. They were the hunter, mountain climber, tourist guide, and the tribesman. They were among the castaways who managed to survive a shipwreck. The four travellers had survived when they were able to reach a mysterious land.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the mysterious land, time flew so slow that they were so exhausted. One day, while they were in deep sleep, a sudden voice of nature heard playing in their ears and was talking in their mind. One by one, they were awakened by the fairy’s light, and a beautiful lady was floating with a green glowing body. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The four travellers were told that in order to find their way out, they were required to choose their ride, and need to position themselves on a clear road towards north. That ride will take them to reality, and will live with it for the rest of their lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The hunter excitedly got his firearm and with it, he sat, thinking of becoming a bullet to travel fast through the other end of the portal. The mountain climber rode on a sledge to scoot fast through the portal. The tourist guide held his compass believing that it will show the right direction, and will never get lost. Lastly, the tribesman just stands on his own, facing the portal believing on the power of his mind and body, will bring him back to his birthplace. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Last words from the fairy that the four should stand firm on their ride and that they would remember nothing as they came across into the other end.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As the four travellers swooped into the portal, their semblance changed unexpectedly. The hunter became a bullet and had become a charm for those in a war conflict; he would be rather penetrating an innocent body and killing them at once. The mountain climber became a sledge and became a favorite ride for those having fun on scooting down the hills. The tourist guide became famous as map accessories on every journey; all the three travellers were transformed into their chosen rides. The hunter became a bullet, the mountain climber became a sledge, and the tour guide became a compass. They never enjoyed being reunited with their loved ones. Among them, only the tribesman was successfully transported back into his homeland, because he believed that his body was the rightful ride for every life’s journey. The tribesman will always trace his family roots and wherever he may be, he will always find a way to be reunited with his fellow villagers. The End.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6187447929287809551.post-5896427182489643652016-06-15T21:16:00.001-07:002016-06-15T21:16:05.910-07:00Paradigm of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Photo Credit: <a href="https://pixabay.com/en/smiley-laugh-funny-emoticon-1158938/">https://pixabay.com/en/smiley-laugh-funny-emoticon-1158938/</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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Paradigm of Life<o:p></o:p></div>
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By: Noel N. Villarosa<o:p></o:p></div>
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15 June 2016<o:p></o:p></div>
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Until breath proves on how <o:p></o:p></div>
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Our unwavering care will support <o:p></o:p></div>
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Family ties run deep, dedication avowed<o:p></o:p></div>
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No step will bring us back to a path trodden apart<o:p></o:p></div>
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By looking at all the tall trees<o:p></o:p></div>
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A feeling we surmount big challenges<o:p></o:p></div>
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Who sees dawn to dusk, divining in the breeze<o:p></o:p></div>
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We are left with someone’s life to salvage<o:p></o:p></div>
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The cavern carved by the sea has chambers<o:p></o:p></div>
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Branching off the main pathway to follow<o:p></o:p></div>
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There are easy and hard trails to remember<o:p></o:p></div>
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As body pressed down being sleepy and mellow<o:p></o:p></div>
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We come out to view the other side<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of the foyer, we entered and tried to assess<o:p></o:p></div>
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Pleasures and sorrows that set smudge our pride<o:p></o:p></div>
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Trusting to succeed every hurdle that comes to mess<o:p></o:p></div>
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Selflessly giving life at one’s advantage<o:p></o:p></div>
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Like trees maintain sap to sustain its system<o:p></o:p></div>
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Breathe reminding heart to beat as their language <o:p></o:p></div>
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Keeping these rhythms as a way to listen<o:p></o:p></div>
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We kept a place where outcry couldn’t be heard<o:p></o:p></div>
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In our mortal dreams, we color it to become immortal<o:p></o:p></div>
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But life is not forever and that is our reward<o:p></o:p></div>
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On bated breath leading to heaven’s portal<o:p></o:p></div>
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As day and night crossed into our lives<o:p></o:p></div>
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Early morning smiles on the warm season<o:p></o:p></div>
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As evening rest fading as the sun arrives<o:p></o:p></div>
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In glimmering moment, we thank life for all the reasons<o:p></o:p></div>
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One cannot live without the other<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yet others cannot exist at the same time<o:p></o:p></div>
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In every sunrise and sunset, we discover<o:p></o:p></div>
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Reaching a sublime last breath became a paradigm<o:p></o:p></div>
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Posted also: www.poetrysoup.com</div>
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Noel N. Villarosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15066713189378417312noreply@blogger.com0