MARIA EVELYN QUILLA SOLETA gives thanks to prose and poetry! Motherhood is a calling and subject so close to her heart. She lives in Cavite, Philippines. Her poems are unadorned yet truthful, purposely warm, and witty. People, places, things, (living and non-living), and even circumstances give colors to her rhythm and rhymes, stanzas, and lines. She began to write poems when she was six and has published two books on poetry, ‘My Twenty Poems’ and ‘Finding My Heart’, (an Amazon bestseller in five categories a few hours after its launch in January 2021). Her works can be found in many anthology books and journals. Evelyn has also won local and international awards. Her poems resemble the works of a woman poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Evelyn’s husband Danny, and their four girls Andrea, Guia, Daniella, and Laura, and two granddaughters Tala and Mayla, keep her inspired to continue this passion of hers– Writing!

BECAUSE THERE IS A WOMAN

She tucks in her floral blouse and gracefully wraps a Chinese shawl by her nape,

 

She puts on mascara, dabs pressed powder over her face, and pouts her pink lips, 

 

She dons a stately neck that holds her crown of curls whiffing of wildflowers sweet,

 

She stores thoughts of happy homecomings underneath the skies' glorious sunsets!

 

Heaven 

smiles.

Happiness

perches. 

The 

heart 

at

its 

best.

The 

world

is

healed

and

blessed

because 

there 

is 

a 

WOMAN

in 

it.

WILDFLOWERS

Wildflowers grow 

And flourish wherever they want to. 

They delight in the Sun. 

They dance with the Wind. 

The Birds take them elsewhere

They do not know. 

In June, the Rains come.

In December, the Snow.

With roots buried in the deep,

God, watches so.

The biting Frosts go

To herald Spring.

Then Summer follows!

Out in the meadow

In Clouds of white,

In Skies of blue,

I see

A Sea of wildflowers

Their lovely petals show!

THE DANCE

You were mesmerizing

On the dancefloor.

While, I, a wallflower,

Sat by myself

And asked,

"Why could not I

Dance?"

I pictured ourselves

In later years,

Bent and old.

In remorse

I asked why

I have not really learned

When I had the chance.

Faint music plays

From the distance.

On my shoulder lays your arm,

While your waist has my hand.

"Oh, Sweetheart,

Is it too late yet?

Please, teach me!

Teach me how to dance!"