Fr. Fausto Tentorio, PIME (1952-2011) Untimely Death
Not by a knife
You have carved your memory
In the hearts of many
Not with a pallet
You have painted your deeds
In the heart that bleeds
Not by a pen
You have written your story
In the book of destiny
With your words, carved advocacy
With your deeds, framed memories
With your love, treasured stories
by your death, all your acclaims
The Kingdom of God, it proclaims
In memory of Fr. Fausto Tentorio, PIME
poem by Maia Padua
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Making Love With Memories
You poked my blurring eye,
Let me lift your mushy breast.
We aged onwards
While you stroked flaccidity –
Recalling decades of
Blood-gorged coming, shuddering to boot.
I kissed a venerable mouth
Crammed with falsities –
Once brilliant keys
Guarded by crimson lips
Washed by a sensual tongue.
And so we writhed in wrinkles,
Tiring effort, and
Memories.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
Memory memory memory memory memory
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The memory river
The memory river painting all of our memories *
Together we passed all of heart solitude*
Followed swift the life flow*
Hoped we love never death*
Constant we needs wrote the story*
The memory river was the picture we have long hopes*
Where all followed the lines of the Lord*
We said was together we have the sorrow*
We said was broken become two*
I'still remember we have ever sitting near in the silent river of silence*
I'still remember we have conscience crying*
Your conscience always said*
Where i'saw sincere from my heart eyes*
The memory river flowed heade the area ocean*
The memory river never dry forevermore*
I'need we said like the river memory*
Never dry we love forevermore*
Damaged Love
Thou innocence-primed beauty
Thou dainty svelte
Emotion-ripping
Like the sun’s silhouette
Painted on canvass of the horizon:
Almond-eyed woman
Just like a diamond
Lyrics of the lyres of yesterday
Thou rippling voice
On whose crest
Memory potsherds
Are borne to berth
On the shores of this heart
Frenzied Suitors,
Soil your hands in every toil
Till until evening!
Though on your laps
She lays no love
Pay the dowry of a thousand foreskins,
You may savour
That supple salmon-skin
Like dew-washed apples
I parted
But with her painted picture
Pasted permanently
On the porches of my memory
In comatose to potent words
To sculpt a goodbye
I left to cry in the Nile
What heifers of words
To sacrifice on her
Altars of love
Will suffice to appease
That heart once split apiece?
No need!
I leave to live
In the memory niche
She once carved for me
Thou innocence-primed beauty
Thou dainty svelte
Emotion-ripping
Like the sun’s silhouette
Painted on canvass of the horizon:
Almond-eyed woman
Just like a diamond
Lyrics of the lyres of yesterday
Thou rippling voice
On whose crest
Memory potsherds
Are borne to berth
On the shores of this heart
Frenzied Suitors,
Soil your hands in every toil
Till until evening!
Though on your laps
She lays no love
Pay the dowry of a thousand foreskins,
You may savour
That supple salmon-skin
Like dew-washed apples
I parted
But with her painted picture
Pasted permanently
On the porches of my memory
In comatose to potent words
To sculpt a goodbye
I left to cry in the Nile
What heifers of words
To sacrifice on her
Altars of love
Will suffice to appease
That heart once split apiece?
No need!
I leave to live
In the memory niche
She once carved for me
poem by Chukwuemeka Ogbu
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Dead Memory
Your memory no longer lingers through my life.
You were there once and now your gone.
Your memory has died like a rose when it is cut from the rest of the world.
Your torns no longer cut my heart.
My voice no longer whispers you name,
I no longer look for you in other people in other faces.
I no longer dream of you or wish that I see you once again.
My heart no longer cries or bleeds for you, not no more.
You no longer haunt my dreams or my memories.
I finally found someone that keeps me warm at night,
I finally found someone who has helped me erase your memory.
I no longer fall and stumble but I now walk tall.
Your memory was a weight that I carried through out time
that now I am free.
I can say that I no longer love you, for you are a dead memory
poem by Elizabeth Gaytan
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Twist 7
now back to their old argument
Tentorio you lose this time
how can you argue about that last dash
that moment when they force your eyes
to close
death has and will always be
the last and only argument of the wicked
it did not work on Jesus Christ
neither shall it work on you Tentorio
Now the tentacles of truth are numerous
shall they argue again on the heads of ten thousand tentorios?
jean shall be tentorio
i shall be tentorio.
i will be an honor to be a tentorio
what we wish to close a long time ago
you shall be given the honor to do so.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Long Term Memory I Have
A Long Term memory I have
Holding tons of shocking stories
Inside my heart
A long term memory I have
The memories of poison and blood I have
Running inside me
A long term memory I have
The memories that holds
Some faces of blood eating
Monsters that lives near my heart
A long term memories
Of hate and hating
Myself
A black heart I have
Pumping poison into my body
Restlessly every time
All the happiness is sucked by
A blackhole of bad memories
All the love is vanished by
A tornado of hate and loneliness
All I have now is
Memories of
poem by Shyama Mohapatra
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Deeds
Of all the greatest deeds
That man has ever conceived
It would be that one deed
That no-one ever did see.
The greatest deeds of them all
The one that people would recall
It would be that one deed
That no-one had ever saw.
The deeds that are always shown
Is like the wind that has blown
You are are cold and then awakened
But its memory is never known.
The good deeds that are quite
They are the ones with all the might
They are never, ever forgotten
And they are always in ones sight.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Little Words
Little words penned to broken hearts
Whispered names of a loves regret
Each one who somehow got away
Leaves a thought to a poem in place
Cashing in on the emotion left
The business world of a hearts ache
Making profit from a memory
Writing to keep a piece for yourself
Little words penned to a hearts desire
Lustful thoughts included at price
A story book of emotional strife
Sold to pay for self improvement
Sold to purchase that better life
Little words penned of a new love found
One that will be kept close and safe
One not for sale at any price
The poetry written with a smile
Little words talking loud
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Memories
Today will be a memory
yesterday is a memory drifting away
memories turn into tears,
tearing us apart.
Fear of moving on, afraid of change,
in a minute this will just be a memory
memories are all pain in vain
memories are like dreams, a reflection of the past.
Memories are vision of what it used to be.
my memories are sadness and struggle
what are yours?
are they sadness and struggle?
You are but a memory
that dwindles as each day passes me by.
and as you slowly vanish
I huddle in my room and cry.
A memory that’s all I have
that’s all that’s left of you
nothing but a mere memory
that still lingers, only for a little while longer in my head.
Don’t forget about the past
without memories there is no yesterday.
make every day one to remember a
memory to move on with no regrets
poem by lizzy Sydney
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The Storyteller's Word
In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.
I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.
Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.
A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.
A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.
Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.
Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.
I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.
A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.
There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Ode To John Keats
Oh lost love from long ago
I think on you once more.
When spring arrives and birds do sing
and colorful blossoms grow
My memories spring to life again
as if you were right here.
And all the phrases that you wrote
still sound within my ear.
I treasure them all within my heart
just as I treasured you.
I measure the days I must live through
just as I measure the dew
that arrives and glistens in the morn
and shines upon the grass.
Oh that you could walk upon it with me
and I could make it last.
But only in my dreams of you
can thoughts like these last.
And only in my wakefulness
can this not come to pass.
Somewhere in my future times
we shall meet again.
I know not where? I know not how?
But I'll recognize the when.
And together my love our words will be written
with the ink from love's sweet pen.
Written from the memory of
FANNY BRAWNE
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Requiem: 'The Last Poem
I wrote this poem on All Saints/All Souls Day 1981 and it is dedicated to my brother, Patrick who passed away in1975, and to the memory of many friends and family.
Embarked the journey on your own
The choice in crossroads taken
The tapestry you once wove
The threads are now forsaken
The words you left to me
Heard only by the Saints
The voice from the wilderness calls
No picture you can paint
Although your dreams not realised
Your memory will never fade
And Heaven keeps your secrets
The words you tried to say
From the ashes the Phoenix rose
Your soul which blessed this way
Time's pirates may steal the gold
But memories grace this day
And wide the Portals open
One's life and death the key
The star will reach its zenith
Then quiet the ending will be
The golden path now taken
A key to heroes unsung
To His breath and in loving arms
All your deeds are done
No epic or poet can describe
The peace spent in the final hour
Embrace me stars eternally
A hymn sent to Heaven's flower
While the curtain draws across your eyes
The stars sing their elegy
This last poem I write for you
Are to the words you wrote to me
Weep no more, His love imparts
Peace as the Prophecy
As is written in the scrolls
Reveal the Trinity
Enshrouded as the Vision stares
Look back; Forever sleep
Your star vibrates in unison
Now rest in Heaven's keep
**********
Amen
As you were given to us and now have part, you will always be in our memories and always in our hearts.
poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
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My Memories
Today will be a memory
yesterday is a memory drifting away
memories turn into tears,
tearing us apart.
Fear of moving on, afraid of change,
in a minute this will just be a memory
memories are all pain in vain
memories are like dreams, a reflection of the past.
Memories are vision of what it used to be.
my memories are sadness and struggle
what are yours?
are they sadness and struggle?
You are but a memory
that dwindles as each day passes me by.
and as you slowly vanish
I huddle in my room and cry.
A memory that’s all I have
that’s all that’s left of you
nothing but a mere memory
that still lingers, only for a little while longer in my head.
Don’t forget about the past
without memories there is no yesterday.
make every day one to remember a
memory to move on with no pain or anymore regrets
poem by Ralph Acosta
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Human memory is a marvelous but fallacious instrument. The memories which lie within us are not carved in stone; not only do they tend to become erased as the years go by, but often they change, or even increase by incorporating extraneous features.
quote by Primo Levi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh That Tree
Maybe if you would have seen
Our initals carved in the tree,
You might have fallen in love with me
When we were so very young
For I wanted the world to know
How I felt about you
Now after thirty years,
i went back to that tree
To see if I could still see
If those words could be seen.
Looking there to my surpise,
Two words carved right next to mine
I KNOW!
poem by David Kush
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Memories
A Memory is one,
One that lasts forever,
A Memory is one,
One to treasure forever,
A Memory is one,
One you create with someone special,
A Memory is one,
One that you wont forget,
A Memory of you,
You the special one,
A Thousand Memories,
Is not worth a real you,
A Real you,
Is needed to make Real Memories!
My Love is not a Memory,
My love is True.
poem by Justin John Gibson
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Memory (Thy Shall)
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
So delicate it may break.
A memory so lost,
So unwanted it tears apart,
Until it dies,
It shall go back to thy start.
A powerful memory it may be,
Or a memory that shall be overlooked,
Thy one shall let it see,
How thy memory is like a book.
But how powerful thy memory is,
It has to be stronger than a good memory,
A memory that has passion and feeling,
A memory that has greatness and becoming myself, I, and me.
Until that kind of memory is shown,
Thy memory shall be looked upon near and far,
Thy memory shall be kept hidden,
Until it shall be who we are.
Thy shall not slumber,
Thy shall not wake,
A memory so fragile,
so delicate it may break.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Love, Principles, Priorities And Deeds
Our love, principles, priorities and deeds illustrate
Just who and what we honestly are.
Do we strive to serve our Lord, brothers and sisters
Or do we take self-indulgence too far?
Do we pray to God for His wisdom, power and strength
Or do we believe the human brain can resolve all?
Do we inspire others by our goodness and love
Or do we totally reject Heaven and God’s call?
The next time you stand before a mirror
Take a long straightforward look at yourself.
Do you live life’s trials by God’s Divine principles
Or do you seek the misgivings of desire and shelf?
I pray to God because I know He’s there
As He watches His children both good and bad.
When we chose to disbelieve we misstep and stumble
And our stories remain hopeless, tragic and sad.
We’re judged by our love, principles and priorities
Long after we’re dead, buried and gone.
It’s our deeds that impact the lives of others
Which cause our memory in hearts, to live on.
My Memory's Care
Sing not to me a song of beauty bright,
Nor festive scenes of dazzling light;
Nor of gorgeous pageant in palace hall
Begemmed with many a coronal;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the battlefield,
Nor splintered lance nor of broken shield,
Not of gory plumes once freshly fair,
Not of banners rent nor pennon bare;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not to me of the sea-fight won,
By daring hearts and by flashing gun,
Not how o'er the deep in exultant glee
The victor's ship speeds galliantly;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of summer, sing not of spring,
For these no joy to my heart can bring;
Sing not of autumn yellow and sere
Sing not of pallid winter frosty and drear;
But sing to me my memory's care -
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing not of Love's deep tenderness
Nor its whispered words, share its sweet caress;
Sing not to me of Beauty's power,
Nor the bridal morn - Love's dearest hour!
But sing to me my memory's care
The misspent hours fled where - oh where?
Sing - sing to me with a mocking song,
Of the guilty past and its deeds of wrong;
Sing - till around me the phantoms come,
Or the broken hearts in a distant home;
These, these are my memory's care,
And shriek them forth to my soul's despair!
poem by Owen Suffolk
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BREEZE OF TIME (for Sr. Vangie Capilitan, OND)
As future swiftly paints its picture,
The past swiftly flashes back,
Future travels so fast embracing pictures of yesterday,
Of treasured time and memories,
Of trials and miseries
Creating her sand art story,
Swiftly yet captures moment of every memory,
A story, the warmth of her love,
Compassion in her Vocation;
A servant of God, fisher of men,
Serving God until then
Walking in the sands of time
Traces His footprints with her feet
Walks her life with the breeze of time
Writes every memory in her unseen diary
Carves her life-long story in the hearts of many
A promise, for her Great Savior
A surrender, to God her Creator.
Happy 39th Anniversary of serving God.
Thank you for guiding us...We love you, Sr. Vangie.
Especially dedicated to Sr. Evangeline C. Capilitan, OND
fr. Dist 4 officers and members
Maia Padua
053112
11: 56pm
poem by Maia Padua
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