Joel Colinco


Like an archer's bow, his body arches, young and plaint,
         Against the wind, but the machete he holds, taut and
         Strong, he keeps swinging, swatting, with a sing song
         Twang against the firm, straight cane.

Succulent and sticky, its juice oozes -- anemic, one
         Mutter, and truly, with one bold stroke, it topples
         Down - no whining. No complaining.

Green, brown or magenta, but for its rainbow hue, its
         Head, with headgears green, folded, like a dancer's
         There and here.

On its brow are straight ones - a diadem, gray, soft with
         Feathery sheen, tickled by the wind, sun and rain.
         Now it lies in bundles, row on row.

Death to the twig less creatures, you say?
         Its foot, its head, like orphans, severed
         And laid in groups. With grunts it is
         Picked on calloused shoulders, and neatly
         Stacked on open cabooses that lead to
         Giant, grotesque maws of hungry centrals.

Brown gold on the canvas it is painted. Yellow
         Mung beans, a handful or two in a liter of water,
         Salt, cabbage and sauce. Brown skin from the
         Scorching sun, biting wind drenching rain.

Brown pay envelopes with myriad of deductions/
         Golden Impalas, one, two or three. Golden mansions\
         Golden earrings or rings.

The laborers, planters and millers - exploiters, suckers
         Will one day share with each other neatly
         Laid row on row, caskets in
         Psychedelic colors they cannot choose.

Joel Colinco
Summerville, South Carolina
JOEL COLINCO, 80, Summerville, is another newcomer to the growing circle of Senior Poets Laureate who contribute to GOLDEN WORDS. His biographical sketch gave little personal information other than birthdate, gender and occupation as a retired physician. His sign is Sagittarius.