The ghosts of gloom are gathering
Crawling, advancing, degree by degree
Soon, down 10° here and there
Soon, down 20° there and here.

ONE of the few frustrations I had as a writer was when I tried to get access to a shelter for victims of abuse and unwed pregnant girls. This shelter, although sanctioned by the government, was run by a religious organization. This was in the Philippines.

At that time, I…

“He should be skinned alive.”

This was Lara’s usual comment each time, half in earnest, when the news at six p.m. broadcasted a lenient verdict to a perpetrator convicted of a heinous crime.

The 12-year-old’s seeming advocacy of harsh punishment to offenders did not come out of the blue. It started when she was eleven…

(NOTE: Included in the conclusion of Part One: Merry’s Bitter Half is the prologue to Part Two: The One That Got Away.
Continue to read only if you are not squeamish; don’t tell me you haven’t been warned!)

AND lest you think me unhinged with regards to why I called…

I have started recently to write poems; not regularly, just every now and then.

But even if I occasionally write in verses and stanzas, I shan’t insult the authentic poets on this platform by calling myself a poet.

I.am.not.a.poet.

The likes of Connie Song, David Rudder, Randy Shingler, Najmu Sehar…

MY life seemed tolerable since that summer day of fishing on the Tasman Sea.

Many other fishing trips with Barry and my mother followed after that. I relished those days. …

Daphne, at age 11, didn’t want four-year-old Tommy to be shuttled back-and-forth to each parent; much like her, a joyless child of divorced parents.

DAPHNE was in holiday mood and mode. And why not? She was on holiday in New Zealand, her first break in six years from work as…

Summer is over, it had its day
and autumn is well under way,
But the marigolds keep on going
The bees on blooms keep visiting.

Begonias planted in mid-summer
looked unwell like a sorely ill leper,
But lo! all the buds bloomed a-peppy
Jolting the marigold chums all a-lusty.

But…