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

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

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

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

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

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

Feast

Hunger crawls down from the table,

decorated with colorful delicacy,

leaving nothing but a satisfied intestine.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

—————————————————————————————————————–

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.

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.

The green leaves of your towering

trees are turning into brown,

waiting to decaying

on the land which is

thirsty of man’s love;

your surface was scorched

to expose your naked innocence.

Desire fed his eyes;

lust won his heart,

But now left your barren field

fruitless and futile—

praying for a shower of mercy

to restore your ruined shelter.

That, from your burned ground,

love will grow

complete and renewed.

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. The image of the rising sun outside the window and the speaker inside of the house, particularly in the bedroom( because of the mention of bed), is a clear illustration of theme. The arguments of the speaker shows that he resists the outside world to interfere them by chiding the sun to be busy with those busy people, but at the finally stanza he seemed to recognize its duty and finally allow it just continue shining.

Day 2

In this poem, John Donne uses a central image , the rising sun. We see here that the speaker is lying with his lover on a bed and the sun shines that calls them to get up and be busy like any other people or group of busy organisms.

The speaker strongly argue to the sun why it must bother them “through windows, and through curtains”. Because for the speaker, love doesn’t have to be subjected to seasons, “which are the rags of time”. Thus, he is tells the sun to”chide” to those busy people— “court-huntsmen,[...] country ants…”. And live them away.

Day 3

Since the rising sun is the central image of the poem, the speaker gives it a characteristics and argues with it as a disturbance to them(the lover), who think that they own their time because of love.

In the second stanza of the poem, the speaker doubted the sun– “thy beams so reverend, and strong; why shouldst thou think?”, in which he actually assert that he can easily lose its power by just closing his eyes. He is confident enough to say that its power, the sun, would not work to him.

Day 4

Love is all for the speaker. Its more than anything else in the world. Its their universe.

The bed together with his lover is the most important thing for him because its his reality, “she’s all states, and all princes I; nothing else is”. Here, the speaker gives a strong reason why he is complaining to the rising of the sun. He doesn’t want to be like busy people, who almost chase their time when the sun shines.

Day 5

This metaphysical love poem tells that love knows no time or season. By using the image of the rising sun, the speaker was able to assert his point that the sun should not bother them because they own their time. However, it also deals with irony. The speakers argues that it is not so powerful as it thought it is, for he can cause an eclipse by just closing his eyes. But he also says that he can’t do it because he can’t afford to lose sight of his lover even for an instant. In addition, the speaker at the beginning of the poem strongly hide the sun but at the end, he ironically, allow it to shine on their bed.

Day 6

The last two lines of the poem is the concluding image of it. The speaker finally agrees that the sun should, indeed, shine. Since the speaker claims that his beloved is like all the country to him and he is like all the king, the sun should rejoice with them too because the world is already with them. And now its more easy for it to do its job, for as it shines on them, it also shines to the whole world—their bed being its center.

Day 7

Every stanza of the poem speaks of the subjective state of the speakers feeling.

In the first stanza the speaker personifies the sun. He gives it a watchful personality as a busy person by calling it “busy old fool, unruly sun” and also support it by giving the image of busy groups of people. On the second stanza, his explanation that love ha no season give to the reader a better understanding why he questioned it from shining. And on the final stanza the reader learns it is all because their love affair is important to him and to the universe that busy person like kings should admire and copy. For the speaker the outside world should not bother them and besides he claims that he already got the world’s richness in his bed. Thus, it only implies that what he thinks and what he has with his beloved in the bed, at that very moment, are the most important things rather than what are in the outside world.

a folded handkerchief, family picture in an open wallet,

scratched Globe prepaid card,

open-wide blue dictionary, LBC wrapper dated December eleven,

crumpled pieces of tissue paper scattered among papers,

a black pen lying on a blank white sheet

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

“Oho”, ang maikling sagot ng pitong taong gulang na bata. Nakaupo s’ya sa malamig na banig habang maingat na nilalagay ang blusang puti sa karton na kinalalagyan ng kanyang mga damit. Gagamitin n’ya ito sa unang araw ng pasukan sa susunod na buwan. Maliksing tumayo mula sa kinauupuan at binuhat ang karton na nakalapag sa mga tinagpi-tagping sako na sadyang tinahi ng ina upang gawing kulambo sa maginaw na gabi. Isinantabi muna ito, dahil sa ngayon mas kailangan muna n’yang punan ang nananabik nang sikmura. Ibinalik ang karton sa dating kinalalagyan nito, sa isang sulok ng malawak na silid-tulugan ng buong pamilya.

Sa pagmamadali ay nakalimutan na tuloy gisingin ang mga kapatid. Makakalimutin. ‘Yan ang parating dahilan kung bakit siya napapagalitan. Ngunit may isang bagay na hindi n’ya talaga kinalimutan, ngayong gabi kanin na ang kakainin nila sa hapunan. Ginising n’ya ang mga natutulog na kapatid, “Neneng…Len-Len…Totoy…gising na. Kakain na raw tayo”, habang maingat na iniwasan ang nakausling kawayan sa sahig at dahan-dahang bumaba sa dalawang baitang na hagdan.

“Bumaba na kayo riyan!” medyo nilakasan pa n’ya nang konti ang boses upang bumaba na ang mga nakababatang kapatid habang kinukiha mula sa mesa ang mga tira-tirang dahon ng kangkong at balat ng gabi. At pinunasan ito ng basahan.

“Hay! Sa wakas, kakain na rin kami. Parang nanginginig na kasi ang tuhod ko e” ang laman ng isipan ni Lydia habang nagpupunas ng mesa.

Lumabas ang ina ni Lydia mula sa kusina dala ang mangkok at ang maitim na kaldero naman sa kabilang kamay. Inilagay ni aling Nema ang mangkok sa mesa at binuhos ang mainit na sinabawang kangkong at gabi.

“Hmmm…mukhang masarap ‘yan nay ah? Siguradong ‘sin sarap din ‘yan ng gulay mong gabi at talbos ng kamote kaninang umaga at tanghali.” pampalubag-loob na pagpuri ni Lydia sa mukhang pagod na ina mula sa bukid. Alam na n’ya ang lasa ng gulay ng kanyang ina. Ito na kasi ang kanilang ulam sa agahan at tanghalian, at tanging sinaing na saging at kamoteng-kahoy mula sa lupang sinasaka ng ama sa Luhib, medyo may kalayuan mula sa kanilang bahay. Magtatatlong araw ng ganito ang kanilang pamilya, “root crops” at gulay, sa araw, at lugaw at gulay naman sa gabi.

“Sana, kanin na ang kakainin namin bukas. Kahit mais na bigas nalang” ang tanging hiling ni Lydia habang kumakain kasama ang buong pamilya. Ilang kainan na nga bang ganito ang kanyang tanging hiniling? At ilang gabi na rin ba s’yang nabigo at umasang muli? Ngunit, malakas ang loob n’yang sa pagkakataong ito ay mapagbibigyan na s’ya sa kanyang munting hiling.

“Para kay Itay, kay Inay, Neneng, Len-Len, Totoy, at sa akin”. Sinimulan na ng masiglang bata ang paglalagay ng mga plato, habang pinagmamasdan ng walang kibong ama na nakaupo sa kabilang dulo ng mesa. Nakaupo na rin ang kanyang mga nakababatang kapatid na mukhang mas gusto pa atang matulog.

“Nay, nakahanda na po rito”, sabik na pinaalam ang ina.

“OO, andyan na. Sandali nalang.”

Mas lalong nanabik si Lydia sa narinig. Napangiti. Hinawakan ng kaliwang kamay ang plato at ng kaliwa naman ang kutsara. Sininghot ang mainit na sabaw ng gulay. “Gusto mo na rin bang kumain Totoy?” Tumango lang ang tatlong taong gulang na bunsong kapatid.

“Kanin na ang Kakainin natin ngayon!” Masayang ibinalita ni Lydia sa antok na kapatid.

“Talaga Ate?”

“OO! Nakita ko kasing may dalang bigas si Tatay kanina mula sa Talisay.”

“’Yong bigas na puti ate? hindi ‘yong dilaw?”

“OO! Di ba ho ‘tay?” hiningi ang pagsang-ayon ng ama tungkol sa mga sinabi nya sa mga kapatid.

“Ah…EH…” ang sagot na naghahanap ng katanungan para ama. Hindi alam kung anu ang isasagot sa nakikitang kasiyahan at pananabik sa mga mata ng walang kamalay-malay na anak.

“Kain na tayo” anyaya ng inang lumabas mula sa kusina.

“Yehey”

“Sa wakas!” sabay buntong hiningang tugon ni Lydia. Ngunit, nagtaka si Lydia kung bakit mangkok, na s’yang nilalagyan ng lugaw tuwing gabi, ang nasa kamay ng kanyang ina. “Ah, baka ‘yong tirang gulay lang kaninang tanghali.” sinubukan niyang kumbinsihin ang sarili.

“Iniwan n’yo pa po ang kanin ‘don sa kusina Nay? Ako nalang ho ang kukuha.” at akmang tatayo.

Bahagyag natigilin ang ina ng marinig ang sinabi ni Lydia.

“Wa…walang ng naiwan don anak. Ito lang muna ang kakainin natin ngayong gabi.” Tugon ng tila nahihiyang ama. Biglang nakita ang kalungkutan sa mukha ng anak. “pagkasyahin na muna natin ang dala kong bigas upang may makain tayo tuwing gabi hanggang makahiram ako ng pera upang ma…….’yong kaunting palay na d’yan. Hindi rin kasi matatanim dahil wala talagang tubig para sa sakahan.” Mangiyak-ngiyak na paliwanag ng ama.

“Hayaan n’yo, ‘pag nagkabigas tayo, sasaing ako ng marami. Tatlong beses na tayo kakain sa isang araw. Araw-araw!” Pampalubag loob ng kanilang ina. “Pero, sa ngayon, ito lang muna ha?” Ang mga katagang lumalabas sa kanyang mga bibig habang nilalagay ang lugaw sa plato ng mga anak.

Mabilis ang pagsubo ng mga kapatid ni Lydia. Walang imik n’yang pinagmamasdan habang masayang sinusubo ang lugaw sa kanilang mga gutom na bibig. Kumakalam na rin ang kanyang sikmura.

Nagsimula na rin s’ya sumubo. Wala rin naman palang pinag-iba ang isinusubo n’ya sa kanin. Parehong nangunguya at parehong tinatanggap ng walang laman na bituka. Ang isang subo ay naging dalawa, tatlo…

“kain pa”. Mangiyak-ngiyak na sabi ni Totoy. Natigilan siya nang narinig ang iyak ng bunsong kapatid. Wala na palang lugaw ang kanyang plato at inabot ang platong nangangalahati. Tumahimik ulit ang paligid ng tumigil sa pag-iyak si Totoy. Napangiting na lamang s’ya nang nakitang mabilis ang subo nito, habang pumapatak ang luha sa plato.

“Sayo na yan” narinig ni Lydia ang boses ang ama. Iniaabot pala nito ang kanyang plato.

“ Hati tayo ‘tay.” Anyaya n’ya sa ama.

Ngumiti si Lydia nang tiningnan ang mga mata ng amang nakatitig sa kanya.

Napangiti na lamang ang kanyang ama habang unti-unting pumapatak ang mga luhang namumuo sa kanyang mga mata.

“Salamat sa kanin ‘tay”. Ang malumanay n’yang pasasalamat sa ama. At habang nginunguya ang isinubong pagkain ay kusa s’yang nanalangin: “Salamat po Diyos ko sa mga biyayang iyong ibinigay. Higit sa lahat, sa kanin na aming pinagsaluhan. Amen.”

The smoke from Mount Fuji

Melts into the sky.

So too my thoughts-

Unknown their resting place.

—-Saigyo

Day 1

The poem, although short, gives vivid images to its readers.

The first line serves as the dominant image. The word “Trailing” gives the picture of the object being drag by the something, and in this case, it’s the wind. The object follows wherever it will lead.

“The smoke from Mount Fuji melts into the sky”. This line gives the picture of the smoke that gradually disappears in the sky. The word “melts” is very appropriate verb to describe how the subject gone in the wind. It reminds me of an ice cubes that melt, then turns to water and then it evaporates where you can’t see it anymore.

Day2

“Thoughts” here is parallel to the “smoke”. The smoke melts into the sky and thoughts unknown their resting place. I noticed that they have given almost the same characteristics. They are both as time goes on disappear, vanish, —forgotten.

Day 3

hmm… does the speaker wants to forget someone? Or have already forgotten? It seems that s/he is trying to justify himself or herself here.

Day4

Images are vivid. The melting of the smoke into the sky is very clear.

Day 5

The first three lines of the poem, I found it cinematic. The eyes of the speaker was able to focus and observe the smoke coming from Mount Fuji as it trails to the wind and melts into the sky.

The last lines about the “thoughts”, in relation to the previous lines, simply implies that nothing is permanent. All is passing.

amidst the cloud’s smooth surface,

still—

waiting to fall

(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.
Farm and chopped green leaves and even the people themselves: “workmen murmur when they meet” suggests of the common interaction among the people living in the community. They know each other, as if one family, they are all seems to be friends, which makes the speaker feel to go home.

Day 2
The poem reminds me to go home too. The “crooked lanes”, the sun when it sets down, the green leaves, these are just some of the common view in the place where I grew up. Like of the speaker, when he sees these, he hums the ancient folk song ” Go Home”. It actually invites him to go home.
With the vivid description of the farm in the first four lines of the poem, the speaker is able to give the detail of the physical environment of the farm. From his description, it is now obvious that he is referring to the farm, because of the the presence of the animals, which are commonly used in the farm, the cow and sheep,and also the crooked lanes, which appear to me are lanes of plowed land. All these assumption was confirmed when the speaker mentioned of the person who is in the place—an aged farmer, who is watching for his shepherd lad.
Wow! her we go. Interestingly, the first four lines give us already the setting and the character of the poem. The farm and the farmer from the fourth line “watches for his shepherd lad” gives us the hint that the farmer is religiously doing this. although, he is very old because the speaker describe him who “propped on cane”.

Day 3
“Going Home” the poem ends with these two words.
He misses the life which he used to be. The environment with “chopped green leaves”, “heavy wheat”, and “crooked lanes” reminds him of that ancient folksong.
Perhaps, he, himself, wanted to go home too. He wants the way of life which is simple as he what sees in the farm.

Day 4
The poem showcases a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place and time of the poet. He remembers the farm in the Wei River and longed to go back there.

nostalgic.

Day 5
Today, this is how I read this poem.
It seems that the speaker is new to the place. He appreciate it and specially the serene environment it has: the land itself, and the people who are living here. Notice that his eyes is not just focus in just one characteristic of the farm. From a distant look to a closer observations of the smaller details, from the land to the sleeping silkworms and whirring Pheasants, he observes everything in it. Even men, themselves, he sees how they interact with each other, everyone seems to be familiar to anyone. Obviously, it all empresses him and made him desire to have the same way of living too.

Day 6
I want to focus my eyes to the aged farmer.
He is the first human character introduced by the speaker. I can see this old man with a hat on his head, a typical old farmer, looking from afar and waiting for someone while he is leaning on his cane. From this description, I can see him as old as 80 years old above, with a curved back like of a typical old man who worked too hard when he was young.
Yes, he is watching for his shepherd lad.
The word watching may also mean thinking or waiting. Taking into consideration that the speaker mean that the old man is thinking and waiting for his shepherd lad, who is this shepherd lad then? Since, the speaker uses “his”referring to shepherd lad, which suggest of ownership in this poem, we say, then, that he is someone who is important to the old man. He might be his son or his most trusted companion.

Day 7
The poem captures the serene and peaceful environment of the farm.
I can see that the speaker is on his way home from his travel and he realizes that he misses the simple life that he had in the farm. From the kind of people and the simplicity of their lifestyle, he recognizes that they are happy and satisfied of what they have. and most of all, he recognizes the beauty in simple way of living.

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.

It was already late at night when I decided to write this poem.

After more than an hour of sitting in my bed, holding my pen and blank paper, staring at the flickering lights of the fluorescent outside the dark window, I finally came up with an image of a young lady.

Actually, I had many ideas in my mind, so many pictures of memories that kept on flashing in at the back of my head at that moment. And I, really, had hard time in choosing from which of those floating ideas I would pick up to develop into a new image for my CW101 assignment.

I might be difficult to recall the exact process that I went through, but, basically, these were some of those, as far as could still remember, how I did it following the four traditional stages of creative process as De Ungria wrote in introduction of the book “The Passionate Patience”.

In preparing what to write, I was like wandering in the place where I knew nobody and everything was strange. I did not know whom to make friend with from those thoughts. All I have mind, was that I must write a poem to submit before the dead line. And I must decide or else, I have nothing to submit a day before it was supposed to submit.

Indeed squeezing my mind to think what to write did not work for me that time. I pause for some moment to contemplate. Took a break and read some reading materials for other subjects. And most of all, wait for my roommates to take their sleep, because I was easily destructed by their noise and laughters. I think, that might be the stage of incubation in my creative process. And then went back to my thoughts again when total silence filled our room.

The illumination stage. Perhaps, my experience in folk dancing during my last two years in high school inspired me in writing this image. A number of practices from indigenous dances, to Spanish Suits, to “Fiesta sa Nayon” dances, I recall the emotion that I had while dancing some of them: from slow and fast beats of dances’ rhythmic patterns. And from these memories, I chose to write down in my paper. All of these were my inspiration in writing this image. So, I decided to came up with an image of a happy young lady while dance to the rhythm of music. I selected only those images that would fit to the image that I want to project.

The first line is a brief description of the movement in dancing the Spanish Suits, especially the “La Jota Esabela”, which was my favorite Spanish Suit dance. The second line was from my experience of dancing the “Tinikling”. When I was hesitant to take the first step between the two clapping bamboo poles. And the remaining lines were from the reminders of our adviser, to always wear the smile in every performance that we had, but most of all, a smile that we would give towards our own dance partners.

And finally, I came to the point of verification. I selected from those different memories and strung them together to create a new picture; arranged the fragmented pieces of picture to make a new one: from slow to past dance movement, out of different emotion, to the expression of face. And in the next morning, I read it again and do some revisions that would help the poem show a vivid image.