Efren Petalver Carranza
Biography of Efren Petalver Carranza
I am a believer of “A good friend is a connection to life, a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in totally insane world.” [Lois Wyse, Author]. And, if I have another friend to claim for, it is my invisible friend: my cyber-world friend who told me that, “writing is an exercise of the mind, ” in this insane world. Therefore, my writings and poetry are not educational matters; these are something that I like to do to keep my mind active. “It doesn’t matter how it is criticized or who criticizes it, ” she said. I know my poetry is not that great, and I know that my grammars are not right at times either, and if my poems are floating around in the space of nowhere, and if someone stops by and finishes reading them, I must have done right to attract their attention. So, to my invisible friend out there, I thank you for your good advices and influential wisdom. You are my “road to the future, ” and my “key to sanity, ” and with life to connect: it is what it is; we are what are.
To be laughed at, ridiculed or mocked, to be disdained and or to be liked, believed, and to be praised, we own ourselves. We are the masters of our own wellbeing, and all the rights and wrongs we seemed to know it all; as a result, we become stubborn or too stubborn to be dictated, directed, or redirected. Thus, the insights of our dreams are roads we follow – either we stumble or fall, but God has given us the strength to rise and move on.
To be your own self: create your own character, devise your own language, have your own philosophy and find your own path; in that way, you are alone but unique to meet many.
- The Farmer and His Carabao
- The Beauty of a Mother
- The Golden Mind
- Life is a Journey of Ups and Downs
- Is It Just A Friend?
- Ex-Lover Met in FB: The Wicked Truth
- In Depth of Struggle
- I am Perfect
- Kids! Kids! Kids!
- Love is My Money
- The Seasons of Giving
- History, Science, and Math in Geography
- Oh! My Brother
- Voyage of the Mind
Life, Candle, and Wine
How much is too much a pain after pain,
In a tight fist can hold again and again;
On a prowling face, how long is too long,
For someone to suffer the agony of ageing;
Like a candle lives by the lit of its wick,
Slowly burning through dangers of wind,
Its soulful light will soon become weak,
To send scents of some kind to think;