Friday, January 1, 2016


Rebecca Villanueva


I am revealing my inner self
And Every Time I finish
A piece of poem
I die a little...
In my attempt to live
I let something in me die
Yes. Episodes...
I let them end
Times of my life...
I let them be burried in words
In order to survive
To die is to be free
So, I thought
I died a little
But I  am not yet free...
Not so free like I want it to be

Oh, if only I could be so free
To tell something
Of the beauty of the inner flame
That consumed me
Of the love and passions
And the truths
That cradled me to sleep
Of the fire that I do not set free

I am not free!
Not so free like I wished it to be
No!  I am not ready
For this kind of dying!
Not yet!


Who once served
Their countries and their people
Who died
Believing their own truths
History will tell
Of dark conspiracies
Of innocent greatness
Soiled by false judgement
And evil intrigues
Serving the ambitious fools
And the foolish
Who are easily persuaded
By fads and fans
And crowd screaming
The loudest cry of all
The strong became meek
Without the voice
And received the blame
And brunt of the masses
Of unsatisfied
Disgruntled grunting
In disarray
Mad people raising angry fist
Seeking someone to blame
For their present miseries!
Ah, I weep still
For those lost greatness
Whose stigma
Will forever stain their names
The good deeds of the past
Only the red and dark fleck
Of accusations
In his white - robed - duty
There is no way
To know the real truth
But listen!
Listen to the murmur of kindness
In your heart
It will always tell you the truth
For truths have so
Many different faces.
Your truth,  my truth
His truth or their truths
My truth will not be your truths
Neither, their truth is not the truth
Of those who nailed them
To their cross!
By Rebecca Villanueva
Copyright 2015


The music and certain smell
Brings back beautiful memories
Of childhood gone by...
Lovely and poignant-like
Yes, poignant!
I am at home in my new land...
Alone snd so far away from home
So I seek the crowded places
Where the tinsels were winking
Where the streets were dressed
In festive moods
Where the corners of city square
Were claimed by street musicians
Playing  Christmas carols
It sounds cheerful
Made one happy and glad
To see bright lights and colourful
Christmas decorations
And shops displays screaming
" buy me, take me home!!!"
I saw  people in and out of shops
With pregnant bags but most
Of the faces I've seen lacked were
Void of joy but eyes fixed on
Unseen images at the back
Of their busy minds
They were a rushing
Spinning in circles
And they did not see
The bowed heads of the homeless
With stretching hands
And open palm
Begging for alms
They did not see the anguish
Im their dirty faces
Oh, God! And it is Christmas time!
I took the underground train
And saw men in their prime
Huddled in one corner
Hugging bottles of beer
To keep them warm
Nobody took notice of them
They studiously avoided to
Be near them
They kept distance
Oh, God! And it is Christmas time!
I stood near them
Smiled at them...
Then I realized
I and the homeless
Will not be home
For Christmas

Copyright 2015
Rebecca M. Villanueva

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