PAG-IBIG SA TINUBUANG LUPA- Andres Bonifacio

Aling pag-ibig pa ang hihigit kaya Walang mahalagang hindi

Sa pagkadalisay at pagkadakila ihahandog
Gaya ng pag-ibig sa tinubuang lupa? Ng may pusong mahal sa Bayang
nagkupkop,
Aling pag-ibig pa? Wala na nga, wala.
Dugo, yaman, dunong, katiisa’t
pagod,
Pagpupuring lubos ang palaging hangad Buhay ma’y abuting magkalagu’t
Sa bayan ng taong may dangal na ingat, lagot.
Umawit, tumula, kumanta at sumulat,
Kalakhan din niya’y isinisiwalat.
 A PRAYER FROM THE WOMB- Saju Abraham
Why did you tear me off you,
When you know I’d die without you?
I promised you peaceful sleep,
But you wouldn’t hear me.
You were in the midst of planning your
future.
I promised I would pull your gown.
Nor tear my vocal cords when I’m
hungry
But you still wouldn’t let me be.
I promised I would behave when your
friends visit,
Or when you’re in the phone or in the
kitchen,
But you still threw me out of your
system.
Why, Mama, why? Am I so
unagreeable?
I don’t keep it against you, Mama.
I know now that you know.
 HOW DO I LOVE THEE?- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the
ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and
height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of
sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from
Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my
childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to
lose
With my lost saints—I love thee with
the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if
God choose,
I shall but love thee better after
death.
 A POISON TREE- William Blake
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretched beneath the
tree.
 O, CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!- Walt Whitman
O, Captain, my Captain! Our fearful trip is
done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize
we sought is won
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people
all exulting
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel
grim and daring:
But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O, Captain! my Captain! Rise up and
hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung- for you
the bugle trills
For you, bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths-
for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass ,
their eager fce turning;
Here Captain! Dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
O, CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!- Walt Whitman
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor, ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, o shores, and ring, o bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
 TREES- Joyce Kilmer
I think I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungry mouth is
pressed,
Against the earth’s sweet flowing
breast.
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray.
A tree that may in summer wear,
A nest of robins in her hair.
Upon whose bosom, snow has
lain
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
 THE ROAD NOT TAKEN- Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to
way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
 from SONGS OF AN EMPTY HOUSE- Marguerite Wilkinson
My father got me strong and straight
and slim,
And I give thanks to him;
My mother bore me glad and sound and
sweet, --
I kiss her feet.
I have no son, whose life of flesh and fire
Sprang from my splendid sire,
No daughter for whose soul my mother's
flesh
Wrought raiment fresh.
Life's venerable rhythms like a flood
Beat in my brain and blood,
Crying from all the generations past,
"Is this the last?"
And I make answer to my haughty
dead,
Who made me, heart and head,
"Even the sunbeams falter, flicker and
bend --
I am the end."