Boondocks (bundok)

They are from time long ago standing still
Mute witnesses to the changing valleys
Generating an ever metamorphosing canvas
Of forest greens and tropical trees
Constantly reaching out to evanescent mist
Ever grasping the fast disappearing haze.

The stately woods silhouetted on filtered sunshine
Cast their quaint shadows on bushy undergrowth.
Here, the poets’ enraptured, minds soaked in wonder
The verdant beauty that stirs the heart
To craft words into verses flowing with melodies.
Punctuate their lyrics with the chorus of birds
And interminable quietude of the wilderness.

The boondocks of our homeland
Now reduced to alarming scarcity!
Where iron mounted blades could not slice through
The ancient mound of earth
Torrential rains scooped what is left of the hills
Slamming down on fragile huts along its paths to the seas
The grieving nation seemed not to notice
The calamity was the creation of their greed.