Cycle Of Life

Why, says the dove, do you crawl
about in the filthy soil,
Shielding yourself from the world,
when you can be in the wide wilderness-
enjoying the wonders of the planet,
The cool wind,
The turning waters,
The dancing trees,
Along with me?

The world, to me, answers the worm,
is unimportant-
Miniscule compared to life.
Just as beauty, as your own,
to me.
A mere illusion that cannot change
essential factors that create a living object.
As much as I’d like to see that endless world of yours
I must object, for I’d rather stay safe,
Alone and at rest in
My filthy soil.

Outraged the dove responds,
Beauty is my life,
Nothing without it.
You my friend, see it as insignificant
While I see glamour as the most crucial part of

Upon cooing the very
The dove bends
down to swallow the worm.
Then, silently takes

by Bernadeth Tolentino

Other poems of TOLENTINO (34)

Comments (2)

As a scholar, Mr. Hepner, I would wonder why you are agnostic? In easy terms, what exactly do you believe, because I cannot figure it out. Thank you...Jeannie
I must get round to reading some Borges some time since, as you know, he writes Spanish. Cracking piece of poetry, Gersh. Masterly rhymes. Love, Gina.