‘She smiles sweetly, like morning light As gentle winds and radiant sun Cast fragrance on this day of bright Her cheerful eyes so full of fun Like drifting leaf on starry night A pleasing sight to everyone Her graceful charm a poetic write Of music and rhyme rolled in one In heaven bless for this famed chance To gaze such beauty in our time.’
Mr. Jesus Diaz Llorico hails from the beautiful province of Iloilo, Philippines. He was a former member of the Police Force in his hometown for a couple years and later on joined the Bureau of Fire Protection wherein he was assigned in several parts of the Visayas. He then decided to go abroad and work for 22 years in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and is now connected with the Prince Sultan Airbase in Al kharj. He is a regular contributor of the PANAY NEWS, a daily newspaper in the Visayas and the KABAYAN WEEKLY, one of the leading weekly newspaper in the United Arab Emirates. Working abroad, away from his native land and loved ones, it is in writing poetry that Jesus finds comfort in times of solitude in a foreign land.
…So. I said: what is beauty? He said: it is the impossible being real, it is the kohl of a string on the forefingers of a guitar player, it is the explosion of astonishment on a beautiful lady’s waist, it
I’ll teach you how to read How soft the pages feel underneath your rough fingertips I’ll teach you how to play the violin, How music reveals what’s been hidden for years I’ll teach you how to braid your hair To
The beauty of thine essence is the one, which never to be compared to ye. As, thou art the miracle of this alluring nature. And thy is the beauty which exhibits thousand works of the superior lord. From whence I
In the dust storm a discarded moon sat in my lap. Then internal rhythm crashed. Amorphic I would not find the music of words translated into a kiss. Gold started weeping in my hands. The clouds will rest after committing
The bygone art, a dead shrine; Thou not dead, thou live… shall live By art of carve that plays on and will it play Forever, timeless, in century’s lap The beauty, thou struck me a year back: So calm, so