George Bradford Patterson II



  George Bradford Patterson is a North American originally from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He is currently residing in the Philippines finishing his Ph. D dissertation in “TURN-TAKING IN ENGLISH CONVERSATION IN SMALL GROUP DISCUSSIONS at the University of the Philippines, Diliman in the College of Education in the Language Area. He has a Masters Degree in Teaching English as a Second Language from Rutgers – The State University of New Jersey from the Graduate School of Education , Dept. Language and Learning in New Brunswick in May, 1982. He also did his BA in January, 1974 at Temple University, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. Later, he did a post graduate major in Spanish. He has taught EFL/ESL in Colombia, Peru, Mexico, Honduras, China, and Korea in universities, language institutes, binational centers, and international school. He is also a bilingual poet, having published two books of poetry – ODE TO ISLA NEGRA; PURPLE MELODIES:  ODES & SONGS – in Spanish in Santiago, Chile  in August, 1991  & April, 1992 through the Editorial Fertil Provincia and one book of bilinguial book of poetry in English and Spanish – BLOSSOMS AT EDSA 2 – in the Philippines in CUBAO,QUEZON CITY IN 2004 .  He and Cyberwitnet co-published another book of selected poems -SELECTED POEMS OF LOVE, LIBERATION, & BEAUTY – written by him in Allahabad, UP , India in November, 2007. In addition, CERAFIC PRESS, based at #1-A  McDivitt Ext., Barangay Culiat,   Dona Faustina Village 1, Tandang Sora, Quezon City, Metro Manila, Philippines published IN 2009 another book of selected poems – POEMS OF LOVE, LIBERATION,  & BEAUTY:  NEW & COLLECTED – written also by George Bradford Patterson  II .
He is also a short writer and essayist and has traveled, worked, and studied in the Philippines, China, Thailand, Singapore, India, Bangladesh, Hong Kong, Mexico, Colombia, Brazil, Dominican Republic, Honduras, Argentina, El Salvador, Guatemala, and Peru.  Moreover, He and co-published a book of selected prose – SELECTED SHORT STORIES , ESSAYS, &  VIGNETTES FOR PEACE, JUSTICE, & ; RECONCILIATION.



By George Bradford Patterson II

On my next birthday

we visit Min Young

who by the way he contemplates

shines both serenity and silence.


“To consume ginseng daily

is to grow wiser like the mystics

of temples,” he says.  “And one does not need to know

Buddhism to understand Buddha.

One simply glows like the Muse.”


We drink to the Enlightened Man

who lighted a billion candles in us

and ponder the fate of poets in an age of darkness.

Our hearts are red roses, dreaming starry dreams of love,

waiting to be awakened by his incandescent eyes.

Cheongju, Chungbuk, Korea, April 11, 1993


                                          Our Joy of Writing

(to Wislawa Szymborska and Tran Van Dinh)

Why does this written fawn dance through the

written sylvan sanctuaries?

For a sip of written water from a laguna

whose surface will mirror her silky muzzle?

Why does she raise her head; does she hear whispers?

Rested on four lithe legs loaned to her by the truth,

she flaps her ears beneath our fingertips.

Stillness – the word murmurs yet across the page

and leaves the branches

that have sprouted from the word, “woods”.


Reposing in wait, ready to jump on the blank page,

are letters stirring up unrest,

clusters of clauses so restricted

they’ll never allow us to escape.




Each drop of ink holds a sufficient supply

of hunters, fortified with scintillating eyes

behind their sights,

ready to swarm the tilting pen at any time,

encircle the fawn, and slowly point their guns.


They overlook that what’s here isn’’t life.


Other laws, black upon white or green upon brown,



The flashing  of an eye will last as long as we agree,

and will, if I wish, separate into little infinities of infinities,

of infinities, of infinities,

full of pellets, suspended in mid-flight.

Not a thing will happen unless we proclaim yes.

Without our blessing, not a petal will fall,

not a reed will wilt beneath

that little foot’s complete stop.




Is there truly a world

where we reign absolutely on vision?

A time we tie with links of signals?

A life becomes  eternal at our order?


Our joy of writing.

Our power of sustaining.

Our power of nurturing our mortal hand.


Laur,  Nueva Ecija, Philippines, June 7, 2012



                     (to Francisca Gaspar Lorenzo)

                 We came home again.  Pined purely and wept waterfall.

It was blissfully blue as the azure, yet,

that a lot had changed.

We lay down fully clad.

Pulled the cotton bedspread over our heads.

I’m just past sixty-four, but with much more life.

I live just as I did inside old red barn

still below David’s Star,

dressed in seven chakras with more mantras

in  starlight’s home,

whereas she’s just past fifty-one with so much life.

she exists just as she did inside sugar can field

under little stars, twinkling serenely,

clad also in seven chakras with many mantras

in heaven’s house.

Tomorrow I’ll give another meditation on nature’s metaphors,

whereas she’ll meditate on Truth and Love.

For now, though we’ve stretched out

and swayed into our firmament of visions.

Laur, Nueva Ecija, Luzon, Philippines, April, 2012


                     (to Francisca Gaspar Lorenzo)

                   Beautiful rosy twilight, effervescing and pulsating,

we see the the rose garden by the arching rainbow:

flashing red roses of our hearts,

ascending to the blue firmament.


We see

the resplendent rays of the tigress

they are brilliant:  they embrace us.


We see

her hair,

and it shines in the night

like the radiance of a ruby.


We see

her face,

and it phosphoresces like a ruby rose.



We see

her wine red lips

and they glow like the Earth of  Fire.


and afterwards we see her blueness

in the sapphire bliss of doves,

beaming and dreaming,

on a cool night of a yellow moon

full of of whispering winds,

rustling leaves,

and murmuring streams.




Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija, Luzon, Philippines, April, 2012


* The Earth of Fire is the English translation from “La Tierra del Fuego”, beautiful place

in southern Chile.



                                  “Our  World & Snow”

                                    We heard

the chimes of a church bell

& drifted

into prayer:


& this is what we adored

the feeling

of trudging

through the snow

the caress of evening

as if the snowflakes

held the image of God

descending into the world:



Snow flurries & vision

& branches lay ahead

with pine cones glowing

& a simple starlight

danced in the serenity

of the forest

amid embracing moonlight:


Time flowed

& the flakes


fell into

the tranquillity

of the evening

lit up by archangels, seraphim, & cherubim

hovering around Our Lord Jesus Christ & Our Lady:



& then we adored

God as though our eyes were





with some deep mystery

of stars


Church of the Messiah, Gwynedd, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, USA, 1957



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