Poems

Lovers in the waves

The waves of afternoon tides

        swayed the two bodies:

arms were clasped that made them one—

floating against the twilight skies;

soon their shadows faded

in darkness that invaded

the vastness of the sea

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Tonight, I can’t remember Shakespeare

who wrote a hundred of sonnets;

I can’t figure meter, rhyme, nor rhythm;

I can’t think of words that would make a line—-

a poem.

Tonight, I only write the strokes of pen

that a hand commands to fill

this so long blank white sheet of paper

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Weekend at the Dormitory

At the days when alarm clock

and drops of water from the faucet are absent,

it’s the rays of the rising sun

and babbling of dj on the unslept stereo

inform her that the night is over

and morning rush have just rested.

The lives in the four corners of her room start to exist.

They seem don’t know about time

like the ants crawling on white-painted walls

or the fading voices outside the windows,

the clocks lazy hands that drags morning to evening,

blanket tire of her yesterday’s scent,

even the pages of books wait for her finger’s touch.

And all that runs fast is her sleep

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Feast

Hunger crawls down from the table,

decorated with colorful delicacy,

leaving nothing but a satisfied intestine.

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Jeepney Ride

Alone in the wide unfamiliar streets:

streetlights flicker before my eyes,

my heart pounds as these hands

 

 

explore the empty pockets.

The blue jeepney on the opposite lane

strikes my wandering eyes. I run across

the blowing and horning streets

to get there and sit beside

him who is sitting in perfect angle,

looking at the straight path.

 

His jeepney runs on its rolling wheels,

so as our floating conversations.

My shaky hand, which stock in the pocket,

is moist with sweat,

mind runs with questions,

but this tongue finds a solution

and speaks words for pity—

a simple thank you

for riding me in your jeepney

is all it can utter.

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Scorch

 

It’s far different

from yesterday.

The treasure of this jungle

is gone.

The green leaves of its towering

trees are turning brown,

waiting to decay

on the land where

thirsty of man’s love;

its surface was scorched

to expose its naked innocence.

Desire fed his eyes;

lust won his heart,

and left its barren field

fruitless—

praying for a shower of mercy

to restore the ruined shelter

That from its burned ground,

love will sprout

complete and renewed.

 

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Study Table

Yellow leaves of drying rose on the table,

an unfolded handkerchief,

family picture in an empty wallet,

scratched prepaid card,

LBC wrapper dated December eleven,

open-wide blue dictionary,

crumpled pieces of tissue paper scatter among papers,

a black pen lying on a blank white sheet

like a spoon soaked in a cold half-full cup of yesterday’s milk…

——————————————————————————————————————————-

 

Dove

I see your white wings

amidst the cloud’s smooth surface,

still—

waiting to fall

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Morning Watch

darkness has gone to welcome the light:

wind boasts its power

among the waves

and the sun opens

the mystery of sleeping sky.

From afar children are throwing balls of sand

to the walking naked man

————————————————————————————————————————-

A Letter for Julia

 

Julia sister,

things are going well here.

It is almost the same since you left.

 

Our “Sala” is still on its usual set up;

the bamboo furnitures are vanished once a month

to always look new like the brown sofa in your picture;

lola’s racking chair is still

under the mango tree backyard, I sit on it

whenever I remember her ;

Euphobias outside the house

that we used to water before

the sun rises

and

sets

down

are on their full bloom: they have

yellow, green, red, and pink flowers now.

They sometimes look like the twinkling

Christmas lights.

 

Our neighbors always love to see them.

 

Aling Maring our cook neighbor

has just flown to the USA

to be a care giver there,

before we have received your

cook book gift for her.

 

 

The construction of our plaza

where we used to chase dragonflies

after class in grade school

has just completed. Now, there are six posts

of lights like guards standing around it.

A group of young people

playing basketball every night there.

We also have our own water pump now.

Badong, our youngest brother

takes his shower day and night.

He always smells shampoo and cologne.

 

The department store

where we used to buy our notebooks

and paper before classes start,

now sells dusty packs of candies

and junk foods.

 

 

This month, there are no more

children caroling at home because

Ramboo, your favorite puppy,

always stays at gate and barks them.

 

You were asking about your

best friend Jonah. She has

just given birth to a healthy

baby boy and our childhood friend Merna,

will also give birth next month.

 

 

I love the perfume you’ve sent.

It reminds me of your scent

when you kissed me

goodbye in the airport.

 

—-Ate

 

P.S.

I pray you soon be home to be my brides’ maid.

 

 

 

 

Sick Rose (analysis)

Sick Rose William Blake

O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night

In the howling storm:

 

 

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy

his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

 

Analysis:

Sick Rose is a short poem, but it has so much in it. I would like to it read on how the poet uses images in this poem.

The title, itself, already tells about its subject—the sick rose and in the first line, the speaker declares that the rose is sick, where he gives the general description or picture of the rose, seeing it on its physical appearance as something had caused it to be sick.

In the proceeding lines the speaker gives the image of a worm, which he emphasized that is not just like an ordinary worm by adding characteristics that are “invisible” and “flies in the night”. In these lines the speaker looks at the worm in a very different way and by adding these unusual characteristics, the lines appears ambiguous and also open to different understanding of the reader about the poem. A reader may wonder what kind of worm it is and why it appears particularly in the “howling storm”. These images actually contribute to the mysterious tone of the poem. The “howling storm” is, noticeably, the only sound that is present in it. But then, it creates a deafening noise. By the combination the two sounds “howl” and “storm” that are both noisy, the other one, the “howling” becomes an adjective that modifies another sound “storm”, further create an intensified impact on how the nocturnal worm attacks the rose. Its invisibility, the darkness of the night, and the sound of the storm are in harmony for it, the worm, to infest the rose.

In the second stanza, there are noticeable combination of visible images and the abstracts ones. These are “crimson joy” and “dark secret love”. The crimson joy may refer to the pleasure of either the rose or the worm and the “dark secret love” could mean the lust of the worm that destroys the life of the rose.

The poem actually opens so many meanings that are being presented through the descriptive implication. The poet presents a picture of a sick rose and a worm and from it, the way it is presented to the readers, through combination of words and images, it implies deep and rich meanings that can be derived from it.

 

 

Scorch

It’s far different

from yesterday.

The treasure of this jungle

is gone.

Weekly task: Metaphysical poem

THE SUN RISING.
by John Donne

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, “All here in one bed lay.”

She’s all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

 

 

Day 1

The poem deals with love versus the outside world.

Yellow leaves of roses, pressed powder under

a folded handkerchief, family picture in an open wallet,

HAPUNAN

“Lydia, gisingin mo ang mga kapatid mo. Malapit na akong matapos dito. Kakain na tayo.” Ito ang pinakahihintay na katagang gustong marinig ni Lydia mula sa inang nagluluto sa kusina.

“Oho”, ang maikling sagot ng pitong taong gulang na bata.

Poem #2

Trailing on the wind,

The smoke from Mount Fuji

Melts into the sky.

So too my thoughts-

Unknown their resting place.

—-Saigyo

Dove (haiku attempt)

I see your white wings

amidst the cloud’s smooth surface,

still—

waiting to fall

A farm on the Wei River: everyday insight

A Farm on the Wei River

(Wang Wei)

Slanting sun across the land.

Cows and sheep on the crooked lanes.

An  aged farmer, propped on cane,

Watches for his shepherd lad.

Pheasants whirr in the havy whaet.

In chopped green leaves, the silkworms sleep.

Homeward trudging  with their hoes

Workmen murmur when they meet.

This life I long for makes me hum

That ancient folksong, “Going Home.”

Day 1
The speaker is probably going home. He sees the land, which is in urban because of the images such of: cow, sheep, an aged farmer. These images are very urban, that the speaker might have miss this kind of place. Even the “crooked lanes” suggests of the underdeveloped place and a simple way of living.

CW120: Creative Process

dancing to the rhythm of a classical music,

her heart beats twice of a second.

cheeks turn rosy,

dimple starts to appear,

as her lips opens, shiny-twinkling teeth are revealed.