A Golden Country Poem by Lovita Morang

Create for me too, a country,
Where everybody fights;
And,
I too fight,
To make them not to fight;
The sky sought the shining sun,
Your green field filled with raining roses;
Smells of mud, heed the need of ballad of deliberation
bask of "Kaban" battling hymn of liberation
Soften soiled huts, shake not the cracked walls, wails tales of cascading earthfall skirt, contortions of contouring glance,
Twisted terrain, slain.
Do you dwell with us,
Do you know me too, God?
Inhabitant in desperate hopes,
Everyday a lasting song, day long, hunger brew the broth
yankee horse trader praised the field, yield the season's growth
Palace gates gleams, cries birds of paradise,
Trodding through happy valley, see saw, hee-haw conjure up a scenario
Twisted tongue ride herd on, harken a consolation
Taming inmost mind;
I shall try to be kind.
Beneath my silenced stoic servitude, serving clean,
kissing life underneath tradition of mistletoe creep evergreen;
My subdued laughter bubble burst,
Life may be less sweet; songs of clan like: " Leke Ni: Tom" a trust.
A walk into the happy vales, sunshine through the rain;
But, I shall not gift you, a pain.

Gift me too, a country,
Where I too can feign free: reign free;
Levity, a lore in forlorn sojourn,
From brink of ocean, waves are like ripples on space,
In this race, gathering brick by brick;
I, too shall build chain-free,
A Golden country.

-Lovita J R Morang