if this is the state of Philippine poetry, then god help us all.

Nangangamoy dugo ah... Di maganda ang tabas ng dila. :ohno:

These are contributions by some members and does not necessarily reflect the state of Philippine poetry. Perhaps you can show a "more enlightened" take on what Philippine poetry ought to be? :)

if this is the state of philippine poetry, then god help us all.


try reading shakespeare, he's way more naughty and his lines, way more seductive!:lol:

^^^^
Shakespeare??? Ur kidding!.. Do remember, all works by English authors born before 1900 were deemed unfit for Filipino consumption by our Nationalist Nazis. They believe it diminishes their Filipino self worth if people read works by the white foreign devils. Strange though it seems, how some spread their legs wide open to the barbaric japs and their xenophobic culture.

But on a personal note, I do enjoy reading all the works u guys posted here. Coz I believe in freedom of speech & free expression, and that includes the unhindered freedom of artistic literary expression. :cheers:

if this is the state of philippine poetry, then god help us all.

^^^^
Shakespeare??? Ur kidding!.. Do remember, all works by English authors born before 1900 were deemed unfit for Filipino consumption by our Nationalist Nazis. They believe it diminishes their Filipino self worth if people read works by the white foreign devils. Strange though it seems, how some spread their legs wide open to the barbaric japs and their xenophobic culture.


Ugh
Hot air
Too much
Suffocating
In this xenophobia
Of pride and contempt

try reading shakespeare, he's way more naughty and his lines, way more seductive!:lol:

And here's one by Shakespeare

Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
William Shakespeare

Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent.
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.




A rose by any other name is still a rose. :)

may bakbakan pa lang naganap dine! sayang! wala ako sa eksena :lol:


Supot
by ME

May supot na makipot,
May supot na mahaba,
May supot na malaki,
At may supot na maliit.

Supot na sisidlan,
Pagkatapos ay sinayang.
Supot na hinugasan,
Pakatapos ay sinidlan.

Maraming supot,
Sa kapaligira'y naging salot.
Iilang supot,
Sa ila'y naging saklot.

Habang maaga pa,
Supot na dala-dala,
Wag ng itapon pa.
Pagkat ito'y makikita ng henerasyong darating pa.

^ I like it Maxxclip. :D

^^:Dthanks @Waldenstrom

And here's one by Shakespeare

Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
William Shakespeare

Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent.
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.




A rose by any other name is still a rose. :)

yes ate lili! a rose by any other name would smell as sweet!:)

may bakbakan pa lang naganap dine! sayang! wala ako sa eksena :lol:


Supot
by ME

May supot na makipot,
May supot na mahaba,
May supot na malaki,
At may supot na maliit.

Supot na sisidlan,
Pagkatapos ay sinayang.
Supot na hinugasan,
Pakatapos ay sinidlan.

Maraming supot,
Sa kapaligira'y naging salot.
Iilang supot,
Sa ila'y naging saklot.

Habang maaga pa,
Supot na dala-dala,
Wag ng itapon pa.
Pagkat ito'y makikita ng henerasyong darating pa.


now this one's naughty! i like it too!:D

^^^^
Shakespeare??? Ur kidding!..

yup senor mercato. i could give you lots of them if you want.:D just a sample dialogue by juliet in "romeo and juliet": "you kiss by the book!":lol:

your heart burned with desire,
to be loved by passions of fire
her eyes caressed you deepest soul
her flimsy wear stripped your sanity- she stole
she teases with her seduction,
as she always loves to turn you on
you're falling, that, you know much
your body and mind hunger for her touch
over you, she cunningly holds sway
in her charms you foolishly stay.

new lovers are as morning sun
each moment is alive and fun
the world is all fresh and new
bathing dawn, clouded with dew.

I don't know, after reading this acerbic comment,

if this is the state of philippine poetry, then god help us all.

all these poetry now makes me laugh. :lol: :bash::nuts:

:)Salamat @eonynx

^^^^
Shakespeare??? Ur kidding!.. Do remember, all works by English authors born before 1900 were deemed unfit for Filipino consumption by our Nationalist Nazis. They believe it diminishes their Filipino self worth if people read works by the white foreign devils. Strange though it seems, how some spread their legs wide open to the barbaric japs and their xenophobic culture.

But on a personal note, I do enjoy reading all the works u guys posted here. Coz I believe in freedom of speech & free expression, and that includes the unhindered freedom of artistic literary expression. :cheers:

:cheers: nobody's stopping anyone from the pursuit of mediocrity. :cheers:

^^ let's see you take a crack at it eh? The Bard of Barukdok. :lol:

Nangangamoy dugo ah... Di maganda ang tabas ng dila. :ohno:

These are contributions by some members and does not necessarily reflect the state of Philippine poetry. Perhaps you can show a "more enlightened" take on what Philippine poetry ought to be? :)

then i suggest the thread should be renamed from "Philippine Poetry" to "Musings from William Shakespeare Reincarnate and the Cliche Clique"

^^ let's see you take a crack at it eh? The Bard of Barukdok. :lol:

look, this thread had a promising start, thanks to you. but just because someone likes e.e. cummings, neruda or shakespeare doesn't mean he or she ought to sound like these poets, who were born in a different time and place. imitating these great poets would make the writer no different from a parrot with the gift of speech.

I don't know, after reading this acerbic comment,



all these poetry now makes me laugh. :lol: :bash::nuts:

:cry:

try reading shakespeare, he's way more naughty and his lines, way more seductive!:lol:

i bet you like N'Sync and the Backstreet Boys better

then i suggest the thread should be renamed from "Philippine Poetry" to "Musings from William Shakespeare Reincarnate and the Cliche Clique"

I backtracked and discovered that they merged two threads here. One was Poetry in e-Motion (wherein forumers were supposed to post their favorite poems and put visuals there) just so to increase poetry appreciation among the forumers. This was originally in Samahan.

The other one is for original contributions of members. I guess it was mistitled when the mods merged those threads.

Anyway, those are hardly cliche. They're timeless.

^^the poems by the distinguished poets are timeless. i was referring to many of the contributions here, which are not.

and by posting their writings here, i assume the contributors know that these "poems" are fair game and are subject to criticism and disembowelment. unless this thread is exclusively for the Mutual Admiration Society.

^^ disembowelment? constructive criticism only if you have proven yourself meritorious enough and worth your literary salt.

I, for one, think that poetry is highly subjective.

^^ that's usually the excuse of non-poets. but go tell that to literary workshop panelists. i guess that's the only way to find out, isn't it?

if you aspiring poets here really want to understand poetry, i suggest you attend creative writing workshops offered year round all over the country. among these workshops are the national writers workshop in silliman, the up writers workshops in baguio and davao, the faigao workshop in cebu, the iligan workshop and many, many workshops.

by going to these workshops -- considered by the Philippine literary community as the baptism of fire for aspiring writers -- you'd get an idea whether you can really consider yourselves as poets/writers or not.

that's if you're serious with your craft and have the stomach to take a literary beating. otherwise, you'd be happy trying to get laid with hackneyed lines and verses.

^^ So, why don't you post some of your poetry for us to read here?

The poets here are posting not for their poems to be disembowelled. That is only putting a chilling effect on their expression especially since most of them are sensitive souls.

They are just here to share. If they really wanted to be critiqued then they would have joined those enclaves you are talking about -- those who think that they have the monopoly of poetic expression by subjecting the expressions of others to what they think conforms with their norms of what poetry should be.

^^^^:) maganda ang hangarin mo kaibigan... sana'y madami pang Noypi na tulad mo

as the name skyscrapercity suggests, this is a site for those who are interested in physical man-made structures. but poetry and architecture are similar in many ways. both have its own sets of standards. if people demand good architecture, why not good poetry?

just as with buildings, a poem with poor structure will collapse. a writer with poor grammar and syntax is no different from a poorly trained architect. words in a poem are like the materials for a building: use the wrong materials and what do you get?

and yes, poetry, like architecture, demands hard work. neruda, t.s. elliot or borges didn't get critical acclaim by spouting nonsense. their pencils outlived their erasers (that means they rewrote their poems many times until these were near perfection). a good friend -- a poet -- spent hours, weeks, even months writing a poem, until that poem said what only a poem can say.

just because there's no board exam for poets doesn't mean it's easy to qualify as one. no, lili, poetry isn't subjective: there's mediocre writing, and there's poetry.

It seems you are quite learned in poetry, and I am sure that you are aware of what William Wordsworth had written about the personal and subjective nature of good poetry.

He described good poetry as “the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity: the emotion is contemplated till, by a species of reaction, the tranquillity gradually disappears, and an emotion, kindred to that which was before the subject of contemplation, is gradually produced, and does itself actually exist in the mind.”

If these feelings are translated into picturesque words that speak to the readers/listeners and evoke a feeling in them or reveals a universal truth to them, then that is poetry.

It might not be good by your standards, but that is a poem just the same.

Should be poetry be hampered by structure? by iambic pentameters? by grammatical rules? syntax and semantics? What about "Ygudh" of e.e. cummings among others? That defied conventions in poetry writing, but it elicited a reaction -- a reality too harsh and graphic as to be written about in blunt terms at that time. And it had been accepted as poetry.

^^ that is where aesthetic intention comes into play. cumming's poems were by no means an accident. these were deliberate and cummings broke rules "for a specific purpose," including the deconstruction of poetry.

wordsworth's romanticism has often been misinterpreted. but the bottom line is this: how well is a poem written, whether its romantic or not? wordsworth knew how to write and this is a detail that's often been taken for granted.

and whatever your school of thought these poets belonged to, they share at least two things in common: they had an aesthetic intention and they knew HOW to write (by how, they knew the rudiments of grammar, syntax, etc.).

but i'm really wondering if we're discussing the same thing.

^^ Well, your inputs are appreciated. I was just impelled to put up a defense to our contributors who mustered enough nerve to post and expose their raw emotions here through their poems because you came in too harsh and contemptuous with your first posting -- just a blunt critique without pith in it.

Now, you are talking. :yes:

^^ "Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer!" -- Kevin Spacey's John Doe, Seven

If they can take those comments, it would be easier for them to reassess what they have written. I mean, the interest to write is there; it's just a matter of broadening their literary horizons. Some might need a paradigm shift, away from "high school writing." But if they'll just be open-minded about it, there's no reason they can't succeed in creating a poem.

Look, I tip my hat off to anyone who reads Shakespeare. But anyone who wants to sound like Shakespeare ought to know it's a futile attempt. What the writer wants to express might be universal or has timeless qualities to it, but there is a contemporary way of saying it without sounding pretentious or superfluous.

The best advice I ever received from writers is to read, read, read so I can write, write, write. And reading ought not to be limited to English literature or the classics. There is a wealth of contemporary literature at our disposal, including those written in our mother tongue, be it Cebuano, Tagalog, Hiligaynon, etc. And I'm glad to read several good ones here by the more established poets.

Some of the original writings posted in this thread are promising, particularly those in Tagalog and Hiligaynon. The subject or tone might be jocular or straightforward, but there's a contemporary and authentic feel to it. Poetry, you see, must be honest.

As a forumer, I am of no importance as to stop anyone from writing. I merely come here with a word of caution. Those who really matter -- the poets -- are less forgiving.

^^ So, why don't you post some of your poetry for us to read here?

The poets here are posting not for their poems to be disembowelled. That is only putting a chilling effect on their expression especially since most of them are sensitive souls.

They are just here to share. If they really wanted to be critiqued then they would have joined those enclaves you are talking about -- those who think that they have the monopoly of poetic expression by subjecting the expressions of others to what they think conforms with their norms of what poetry should be.

you'd be surprised that the panelists belong to diverse schools of thought, although they agree on the basics on what qualifies as a poem. again, we shouldn't confuse mediocrity with norms.

there are as many ways to construct a building as there are to write a poem. the basic question is: will the building -- or poem --- stand?

well, this is an online forum, and so these "poems" are open to critique, plain ridicule or praise. it the writer doesn't want that, he can always put up his own blog where he can delete unsavory comments. ;)

Reunion sa classroom
Enrico Torralba

Paano ba natin haharapin
Ang mga alaala?

Umid ang lahat.
Nilisan na ng langitngit
Ang pintong dati'y gumigising
Sa ating isip tuwing umaga.
Wala na tayong marinig na salaysay
Ng mga silya't mesa tungkol sa ating
Mura, libog, kodigo at pag-ibig
Dahil dinamtan ng maraming taon
Ng papel de liha at pintura.
Hindi na natin madama sa mukha
Ng pisara ang iniwang galit
At suntok ng mga kaklaseng nagrambulan.
Nasaan na ba ang ating mga pangalan
Sa mga pahina ng mga librong
Nakatanod sa bookshelf?
Nangingimi taytong lumakad nang mabilis,
Isangguni sa bintana ang gunita
Ng biruan at ligawan sa mga bangkong
Pinalis ng bagong gusali,
Dahil mas sanay katalik ng ating mga paa
Ang sangsang, lagkit at kulay ng sahig
Na ngayo'y marmol, bago at makintab.
Nag-iisa ang kisame sa pakikipagtunggali
Nito sa lamig-aircon na bumabalot sa kanyang tinig.
Umid ang lahat.

Ako'y napasandal sa dingding
Na parang anunsyong walang bumabasa.


nice :cheers:

Ito namang ibabahagi ko ay mula sa aking aklat pang-kolehiyo... bahagi ng mga babasahin sa Humanidades I. Likha ito ni Jesus Manuel Santiago.

KUNG ANG TULA AY ISA LAMANG

Kung ang tula ay isa lamang
pumpon ng mga salita,
nanaisin ko pang ako'y bigyan
ng isang taling kangkong
dili kaya'y isang bungkos
ng mga talbos ng kamote
na pinupol sa kung aling pusalian
o inumit sa bilao
ng kung sinong manggugulay,
pagkat ako'y nagugutom
at ang bituka'y walang ilong,
walang mata.
Malaon nang pinamanhid
ng dalita ang panlasa
kaya huwag,
mga pinagpipitagang makata
ng bayan ko,
huwag ninyo akong alukin
ng mga taludtod
kung ang tula ay isa lamang
pumpon ng mga salita.

ars poetica. because "poems aren't just a bundle of words."

Epigram

Here lies my wife: here let her lie!
Now she's at rest — and so am I.
— John Dryden

my version:

My wife lies here: I let her lie!
Now she's with another man - and so am I:lol:

:lol:

-dp-

:cheers: nobody's stopping anyone from the pursuit of mediocrity. :cheers:

and so to mediocrity we go until we find the path to excellence!:cheers:

^^ that's usually the excuse of non-poets. but go tell that to literary workshop panelists. i guess that's the only way to find out, isn't it?

if you aspiring poets here really want to understand poetry, i suggest you attend creative writing workshops offered year round all over the country. among these workshops are the national writers workshop in silliman, the up writers workshops in baguio and davao, the faigao workshop in cebu, the iligan workshop and many, many workshops.

by going to these workshops -- considered by the Philippine literary community as the baptism of fire for aspiring writers -- you'd get an idea whether you can really consider yourselves as poets/writers or not. that's if you're serious with your craft and have the stomach to take a literary beating. otherwise, you'd be happy trying to get laid with hackneyed lines and verses.

we can take your literary beating here!:lol: we're good sport!:cheers:
since we havent attended all those workshops, pity us!:cheers:

then i suggest the thread should be renamed from "Philippine Poetry" to "Musings from William Shakespeare Reincarnate and the Cliche Clique"

yeah, like the parrot, exactly mimicking every single word of its source. like a photocopy of the original..hmmmm....

i bet you like N'Sync and the Backstreet Boys better

why? you hit the mark! how much was your bet again?:cheers:

Babala
by ME

Darating ang araw,
na ang lahat ay papanaw.
Sa oras na yaon,
Sinong makatatanto?

Pilit man nating iwasan,
ating kahihinatnan.
Ni isa sa atin,
Di kayang takasan.

At ngayon nga'y nagbabala,
Ang isang anghel sa lupa.
Pagbabalik sa Lumikha,
Ang syang ipinagunita.

Lahat ng tao, hayop at halaman,
Sino tayo sa Kanyang harapan?
Kapag ang sigalos ng katapusan,
Sa atin ay nagmamadaling kahahantungan.

we can take your literary beating here!:lol: we're good sport!:cheers:
since we havent attended all those workshops, pity us!:cheers:


that's the spirit :cheers:

yup senor mercato. i could give you lots of them if you want.:D just a sample dialogue by juliet in "romeo and juliet": "you kiss by the book!":lol: Nah, I got the whole book at a bargain basement price fr India, remember? I’m not a poet but I enjoy reading that stuff, I think I still remember that favourite Sonnet of urs I accidentally posted a long time ago. I'm a reader not a writer...:lol:

****

Oh wowowee wowowow, gee golly whiz. My my my. Indeed, the other guys here are really braaave for saying that! Indeed they are! Shakespeare and the others are “timeless”????? Oho ho ho ho! Now I’m confused, indeed so confused am I.... hmmm. Which is which? Are they “Timeless” or “Irrelevant” as applied to ordinary readers like myself, (the non-poets)? :)

Try printing THAT on the English thread and some Nationalist Nazis will pounce on u. Because Nationalist Nazis have ideas that Shakespeare et al are irrelevant in the modern era. One can only surmise they find foreign works esp by the White Man damaging to their Filipino soul and their Filipino self esteem, (tho' I'm not really sure as to their EXACT definition of Filipiniana) . Doest I see shades of the Cultural Revolution or Kristallnacht brewing somewhere? hmmm, :lol:

^^ obviously, you are indeed confused.

i stared fear in the eyes
its eyes mirrored me
an unknown dread began to rise,
this morbid thought 'till now i see

fright suddenly closed in,
the world outside became scary
alarm systems woke up within
my very core begged for sanity

gasping for air, i feel drowning
tethering beyond depths of tranquility
in deeper terror, shallow breathing,
at seeing my own hell's sentry.

^^Panick Room ang naiisip ko :D

nag panic ako nang mabasa ko:omg:

^^bakit naman? panicky ka ba?

^^ indi po siya ang paniki. Ako 'ata yun, pula pa nga mga pakpak ko, e... heto lilipad na ko... :goodbye:

^^hoy bumalik ka dito

^^
Ce: Hala ka! Jajaja. Di ka man diay makalupad no? Sigue hugti na lang na imohang hiking boots; ha-it ra ba to ang sundang ni Ate Gabrie-Lili Silang. Jajaja. :lol:

Ta: OT..Teka, yun bang si Bayani Fernando ang BF na candidato? Ba’t naman dun sa nakita kong pic ng pedestrian overpass e pink at blue ang kulay?? Sus ginoo, mahusay man siyang administrator eh parang medio wala naman atang taste? Baka puro pangit ang mapili nyang mga project design pagdating ng panahon? :nuts:

En: Quotes:: Wolsey:
So farewell—to the little good you bear me.
Farewell? a long farewell to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hopes, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls as I do. (-ehem, si Cardinal Wolsey lang ang mag-fall kasi ako lilipad take note) :lol:
Henry The Eighth Act 3, scene 2, 350–358

^^ don't worry about Gabrie-Lili, Diego is my amigo.

si bayani? well, nobody's perfect

wag naman nating lagyan ng kabastusan ang forum na 'to.

^^ like what po? welcome to skyscrapercity, by the way

SANA...
...tulad nalang ng mga bata sa lansangan
...tulad nalang ng mga musmos at wala pang-alam
...tulad nalang ako ng isang bagong silang
na walang muwang sa mga kaganapan

AT SANA'Y...
...naging masaya ako sa pagiging musmos
...walang ibang gagawin kundi ang manlimos
sa ganung gawai'y nakakaraos
sa sariling pawis giginhawang lubos

ngunit hanggang kailan ako mag-titiis
sa ganong sitwasyon na 'di kanais-nais
salot ba ako sa lipunan o isang kayamanan
bakit ako pinabayaan ng mga nasa katungkulan

sana'y isa itong panaginip
isang bangungot sa aking pag-iisip
pa'no ko itatakwil ang sariling guni-guni
kung 'yan ang nakikita ko sa aking sarili

sino ang dapat na maging responsable
nga taong nasa katungkulan ang aking sinisisi
mahal ko ang bayang pinagsisilbihan n'yo
iniloklok kayo ng tao para mag-ibayo

isang pagkakamali ba ang pagiging kurakot
isang pagkakamali ba ang pagiging pabaya
ikaw, ako, tayong lahat kung laging nagkakamali
anung matitira sa pundo ng ating gobyerno

kung ika'y naghahangad ng isang kabutihan
sa sarili dapat ay iyong pangunahan
iharap ang mukha sa makinis na pader
itanong sa sarili kung dapat ka bang maging isang lider

kabastusan...!
ung mga green poems...
di na kc maganda basahin kapaska ganun eh
tayo nlng naman ang bumabasa

lamig ng kahapon muling
magbabalik...sa aking pagising
hinahanap ang iyong lambing

halimuwak ng iyong dampi..
aking naaamoy...lakas ng
iyong init nagbabagang apoy

subalit nasaan ka....sumama
sa iba...pinalit mo ako na
nagdudurusa sa sariling luha..

anung sakit nitong dulot...
sa aking pagsinta..inibig kita
ngunit iyo'ng binaliwala...

halos gabi-gabi ikaw ang
panaginip...sarili mong pangalan
ang aking laging nababangit

bangungot na kung bangungot..
itinakwil mo ako at ngayo'y
babalikan mo...wala na tayo

tapos na ang lahat..at....
hangang dito nlng...paalam
salamat aking kaibigan...

makata ang dating ng thread na ito ah, makibasa nga...

ako poetry ko is not so outstanding...
ika nga eh...practicing level for a creative writing class...

surely reading more pinoy poetry in vernacular is also a challenge...sometimes, the wrong thing about us is the over emphasis of western literature when we also have ours. Learning British Literature and other western types of literature only enable us to generalize and categorize their types according to the their meter, point of view, and the era where they belong in order to understand them. The artistic impression goes on with the blending not only with words but also at the same time the artistically arranged syllables on the meter putting more to that is the message of the poem. With that aspect, classical literature are really hard to emulate.

We may be able to copy the meter and emulate a classical work but their era from which they draw emotions to their artistic impression has already gone. That's why we are on the contemporary era where new scenarios are present. But we cannot deny that we may also reply from the standpoint of a literary author by making our own works of literature to counteract his or her work.

Sorry guys I can't get over this Kundiman. Magandang Diwata a.k.a. Jocelyn nang Baliwag. I posted the lyrics a long time ago but without the melody. This melody seems to be generally accepted by youtubers as the one. Albeit it seems to have undergone a bipolar transformation, w/ 2 sets of titles and lyrics. Still, it is haunting and stirring to the soul. :cheers:
Thanks @junevi2000

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vle3ToCTSQw
Vle3ToCTSQw
From the vidmaker:
Pictures of Old Manila Philippines. The Song is titled Jocelyn ng Baliwag.
From 1896 to 1898 the most famous Kundiman, which fired the patriotic sentiments of the Tagalog revolutionaries in the struggle for liberation from Spanish colonial rule, was Jocelyn ng Baliuag. Officially known as Musica del Legitimo Kundiman Procedente del Campo Insurecto (Music of the Legitimate Kundiman that Proceeds from the Insurgents), Jocelyn ng Baliwag was the favorite Kundiman among the revolutionaries of Bulacan during the Philippine Revolution of 1896 - earning it the title "Kundiman of the Revolution."

In the guise of a love and courtship song, it features lyrics dedicated to a young and beautiful Filipina idolized in the Bulacan town of Baliuag named Josefa 'Pepita' Tiongson y Lara who symbolizes the image of the beloved Motherland, the Inang Bayan ng Katagalugan or Filipinas.

JOCELYNANG BALIWAG ORIGINAL VERSION

P- Pinopoong sinta, niring calolowa Nacacawangis mo'y mabangong sampaga Dalisay sa linis, dakila sa ganda Matimyas na bucal ng madlang ligaya.

E- Edeng maligayang kinaloclocan Ng galak at tuwang catamis-tamisan Hada cang maningning na ang matunghaya'y Masamyong bulaclac agad sumisical.

P- Pinananaligan niring aking dibdib Na sa paglalayag sa dagat ng sakit 'Di mo babayaang malunod sa hapis Sa pagcabagabag co'y icaw ang sasagip.

I- Icaw na nga ang lunas sa aking dalita Tanging magliligtas sa niluha-luha Bunying binibining sinucuang cusa Niring catawohang nangayupapa.

T- Tanggapin ang aking wagas na pag-ibig Marubdob na ningas na taglay sa dibdib Sa buhay na ito'y walang nilalangit Cung hindi ikaw lamang, ilaw niring isip.

A- At sa cawacasa'y ang kapamanhikan Tumbasan mo yaring pagsintang dalisay Alalahanin mong cung 'di cahabagan Iyong lalasunin ang aba cong buhay.

The kundiman is a love song and/or a patriotic song that generally expresses lamentation, a longing, a plea, or sorrow. Influenced by the culture of the times and the temper of the Filipino, the kundiman's purpose was never trivial and ordinary.

During the Spanish colonial regime, the kundiman, "Jocelyn ng Baliwag" was disguised as an expression of love for a lady from Bulacan; it was actually an expression of love for the motherland and the hope of setting her free from the Spanish conquistadores.

The kundiman's beat is triple time, in minor key, and its lyrics are poetic, swaying smoothly with either a silent note or a mezzo forte. It is usually sung by a highly trained and skilled vocalist, accompanied by an equally trained and skilled string orchestra, or a pianist, a violinist, and/or a guitarist.

No ordinary vocalists and musicians cannot perform the kundiman. It requires more than just a singing voice and the ability to pluck some strings. If other nations have their opera, the Philippines has its kundiman, uniquely its own. :cheers:

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a94/avenidalasalle/Skyscrapers/gang350.jpg


The Enchanted Kingdom
(in praise of Lawrence Ferlinghetti)


The rollercoaster ride beyond Midway
Was where they shouted their lungs out
Exhilaration so unreal
Ketchup and mayo smearing cheeks
As dogs were taken in with Mountain Dew

Time was flying that October afternoon

Til the next October
........................And the next
....................................And the next

The sands would quickly trickle down
To the bottom of the glass
And before his eyes
The baby was a lady

In a quick adieu,
The girl ran to her university
Indeed a different October

And while the tears were falling
...................................He cried
...............................................Too soon! Too soon!


:)

Too soon! Too soon!

Memories of Coney Island's Astroland :ohno:

dedicated to Ms. Lili

Lili
by ME

Lili, O bulaklak na lili.
Sa bayan ng Liliw,
Ang sinta ko’y nawili.

Giliw kong tagasubaybay
Kami’y nagliwaliw
Hanggang malibot namin
Ang bayan ng Liliw.

Sa lilim ng puno
Kami’y muling pinagtagpo.
Nang Sinta kong mahal…na hapong-hapo:hilarious

Ang Paglalakbay ni Maxi Pad

Si Maxi ay pinalad
na siya ay mapadpad
Sa bayan ng Liliw
kung saan siya nagliwaliw

Nakilala si Lili
Namangha’t nawili
Sa ubod ng aliw
Siya ay nagiliw

Kuentuhan at halakhakan
Sa buong lakaran
Hindi namalayan
Nalibot buong bayan

Walang pag-aatubili
Ayaw maghunusdili
Sa walang patid na kakalakad
Paa ni Maxi’y lalong lumapad

^^:lol::lol::lol:

i like it:okay:

:hilarious

naluluha na ako sa katatawa:rofl:

^^ Glad you liked it Maxi. Baka naman i-critique pa 'yan nina Barukdok & Co. lol.

Too soon! Too soon!

Memories of Coney Island's Astroland :ohno:

Hey Sugarboy, while riding the subway, I saw this poem and thought about you and your young daughter. It's about a father ruing the day his baby girl grows older. Too soon! Too soon!

A Little Tooth
by Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,

and four, and five, then she wants some meat

directly from the bone. It’s all

over: she’ll learn some words, she’ll fall

in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet

talker on his way to jail. And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue

nothing. You did, you loved, your feet

are sore. It’s dusk. Your daughter’s tall.

Ang Paglalakbay ni Maxi Pad
Me version

Si Maxi ay pinalad
At siya'y napadpad
Sa bayan ng Liliw
At doo'y nagliwaliw.

Nakilala si Lili
Namangha’t nawili
Sa ubod ng aliw
Sila'y muntik mabaliw:hilarious

Kwentuhan at halakhakan
Sa buong lakaran
Hindi namalayan
Nalibot buong bayan

Walang pag-aatubili
Ayaw maghunusdili
Sa walang patid na lakaran
Silang dalawa'y nagkatapakan:hilarious

Kawawang Max, paa'y nasugatan
sa takong na hindi naiwasan.

Bow!

^ Kawawang Lili
Takong ay nabakli
Sayang na Manolo Blahnik
Galing sa balikbayan box na siksik

^^Yahoooo!:lol:

ang sosyal ng sapatos:rofl:

^^ Glad you liked it Maxi. Baka naman i-critique pa 'yan nina Barukdok & Co. lol.



Hey Sugarboy, while riding the subway, I saw this poem and thought about you and your young daughter. It's about a father ruing the day his baby girl grows older. Too soon! Too soon!

A Little Tooth
by Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,

and four, and five, then she wants some meat

directly from the bone. It’s all

over: she’ll learn some words, she’ll fall

in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet

talker on his way to jail. And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue

nothing. You did, you loved, your feet

are sore. It’s dusk. Your daughter’s tall.

Thanks Lili. So thoughtful of you.

Just really making the most of what's at hand. Parents really have but a window of time. She's gonna be 9 soon and is deeply into Camprock and Hanna Montana :lol:

it's nice to see this thread got some life lately!:)

Time to pay my leave so due!
To you my sweet stays my adieu
Forever yours my sweet goodbye
Until return my sweeter Hi!

http://blogs.gmanews.tv/mads-bajarias//templates/nmi/banner_madsbajarias.jpg

Pinoy Poetry Timeout (http://blogs.gmanews.tv/mads-bajarias/archives/8-Pinoy-Poetry-Timeout.html)

The other day I found myself in one of those funny-exasperating incidents that make up the life of a pedestrian Metro Manilan. I was in the Cubao LRT station and saw a card-dispenser with an intriguing laser-printed sign scotch-taped over the machine’s front. The sign read:

This Machine Accepts 5 and 10-Peso Coins.
This Machine DOES NOT Accept New Coins.

An old-fashioned machine that demands which coins to digest! How novel. There was also something poetic about those two lines; it struck me as some kind of cruel joke-cum-poem created at the expense of poor pedestrians who have to suffer all manner of inconvenience and indignity just to get from point A to B around the metro. What’s more, as I took a step closer to the machine, I found out that its small LCD window showed a faint warning:

OUT OF ORDER

Just when I have the OLD coins the machine wants! Drats.

I fumbled around my bag for a camera but I found out that my camera needed recharging. Someone came up to me, read the sign, and together we had a bit of a chuckle. The security guard also came by and gave a sheepish grin when I pointed at the busted machine with the sign which seemed to resemble a cruel psych experiment.

So, with infinite patience, we left the tyrannical machine and lined up to get our LRT cards from the humans behind the windows. Queuing for the privilege of getting LRT cards from a human takes more time than using the card-dispensing machines, so while waiting one has to distract oneself with something.

While waiting in line, I was surprised to hear poems being read over the speaker system. With growing interest, I heard funny, unpretentious Pinoy poems being read. The two poems that stayed with me were by Fidel Rillo and Jose F. Lacaba. Unfortunately, I forgot to note down the Rillo poem but I enjoyed it immensely when I heard it. The Lacaba poem was read (very nicely too!) by Romnick Sarmenta (please don’t make me explain who Romnick is; ask your unmarried aunt or uncle who this guy is).

When I reached home, I frantically searched for the Jose F. Lacaba book of poems I know I have. Somewhere. After wrecking the room and flinging books, cats, unpaid bills, unused exercise equipment, unmatched socks, cobwebs, the long-lost pair of eyeglasses, and other items out of the way, I finally unearthed my Lacaba poetry book, “Edad Medya: Mga Tula sa Katanghaliang Gulang,” and I did a loud yell that scattered the cats across the room.

Spurred by what I heard over at the LRT station, I re-read Lacaba’s 103-page book cover to cover that night. It was like rediscovering a piece of treasure. The Lacaba poem I heard at the LRT station isn’t in this book, though, and I thought of searching for the other Lacaba book I know I have. Somewhere. But the cats peering from a tangle of flung books, magazines and other bric-a-brac gave me evil looks so I decided to give them a rest and look for the book some other time.

http://blogs.gmanews.tv/mads-bajarias/uploads/jose-lacaba-poetry-book-cover.jpg

Re-reading Lacaba’s poems in “Edad Medya” is a pleasure. I must have read it first in 2000 (that’s the year my copy says Anvil published it). The price tag is still there: an amazing P75.

Here’s one of my favorite poems from Lacaba’s “Edad Medya”:

Sa mga umaga

Sa mga umagang tinatanghali ako ng gising,
inaabrasador ko ang iyong unan,
at marahang pinaplantsa ng bukas kong palad
ang gusot sa kama na iniwan ng iyong katawan,
at pagkatapos ay iginuguhit
ng isang daliri sa kama
ang memoryadong balangkas at hugis
ng iyong balikat, at baywang, at balakang.

Sa mga umagang tinatanghali ako ng gising,
mananatili ako sa kama, ninanamnam
ang gunita ng mga gabing nagdaan:
maaaring inunan mo ang aking dibdib,
dito, sa pagitan ng puso at kanang braso,
at nalanghap ko ang samyo
ng iyong buhok,
at maaaring inalis ko ang ilang hibla
na pumasok sa aking bibig,
kumiliti sa aking mga mata,
at maaaring hinaplos ko ang iyong buhok,
ang napakakinis mong buhok na tuwing umaga’y
nilalagyan mo ng langis ng niyog.

Sa mga umagang tinatanghali ako ng gising,
hinuhulaan ko kung saan ka naroroon:
maaaring sa likod-bakuran, winawalis
ang mga tuyong dahon ng makopa; o maaaring
sa kalsada, naglalakad nang mabilis,
hinahabol ang araw, nagpapawis,
paminsan-minsa’y humihinto para magbunot
ng pansit-pansitan sa gilid ng daan;
o maaaring nakarating na ng bahay
at matiyagang nililinis ang pansit-pansitan,
tinatanggalan ng ugat, inaalisan ng lupa,
bago pakuluan ang dahon at tangkay.

Tiyak na pagtayo ko’y isusumbat mo sa akin,
habang hinihigop mo ang sabaw ng pansit-pansitan,
na marami ka nang nagawa
—nakapaglaba, nakapaglinis, nakapagsaing—
habang ako’y nag-iinin sa higaan.
Subalit ang mga gunita ng mga gabing matalik
ay mga gunitang sumasalag sa anumang sumbat.
Huwag kang magagalit kung hindi ko
inaalintana ang sumbat
sa mga umagang tinatanghali ako ng gising.

This poem alone is worth the P75 book price in 2000. I don’t remember enjoying a Pinoy book of poems like this one before. One of the reasons could be that I have not bought another Pinoy poetry book since 2000. Maybe it has to do with the fact that books now cost considerably more than Lacaba’s P75 in 2000.

So the next day, I made sure to buy a new (post-2000) Pinoy poetry book. What I found was another treasure: Joel M. Toledo’s “Chiaroscuro” published by University of Santo Tomas in 2008 (which should be sufficiently current).

http://blogs.gmanews.tv/mads-bajarias/uploads/joel-toledo-poetry-book-cover.jpg

Toledo teaches Literature at Miriam College, Quezon City and has won a bushel of awards in poetry, national and international. Given the millions of poems and “poems” written by sad and lonely (possibly suicidal) Internet denizens, winning an international poetry contest is nothing to be sneezed at.

There is an exacting and measured quality in Toledo’s poetry which demands constant re-reading. Enjoyment comes from repeated readings and finding something new each time. Maybe this is the gift of poetry in these difficult times: it makes us sit up and think sublime, lofty thoughts that carry us, even for a moment, far from the humdrum.

One of Toledo’s poems in this collection is the following:

The Wild

What little I know of luminosity, I learned
from this: a cheerless child weaving into the night,
negotiating the paths of ghosts. He is ten,
his frail hands clutching small darknesses.

He doesn’t understand fear.
The fireflies have drawn him out, the evening
a terrible creature of jewels and gems. The house retreats
farther and farther back: broken, tamed.

How he wants to touch the lights, to own them.
He strains forward, groping for openings
in the wall of dark, fingertips finding
one another. Suddenly a world

kindled and pulsating. The fireflies throb ecstatic
in the distance, trapped in the curl of thumb
and forefinger, the child’s hands borrowing light.

But he knows such wildness cannot be held.
I find him a short walk from the house,
caught in the tangle of light.
He is stabbing into the darkness, raging.

And if I come closer, I will hear his heart pounding
fiercely, keeping wild rhythms, child breaking

into light: but listen, we must let go of these things.
I keep back and let the child be—broken, tamed.

I have no idea if Lacaba’s and Toledo’s books can be purchased in bookstores. Whenever I go to the country’s biggest “book chain,” all I seem to see are FHM magazine copies and school supplies on discount. The best way nowadays to get hold of copies of Pinoy poets may be to google Anvil Publishing House for Lacaba’s “Edad Medya” and UST Publishing House for Toledo’s “Chiaroscuro.” If anyone knows the Fidel Rillo poem that’s included in the recorded readings over at the LRT stations, please post it here.

Salamat sa Tabo:D

May isang dalagang nanggaling sa silid,
tuloy sa kusina ang tabo’y hinagip.
Doon sa tapaya’y sumalok ng tubig,
hanggang sa batalan ang tabo ay bitbit.
Pagkatapos nito’y luminga-linga pa,
ibig makatiyak kung may nakakita.
Nang inaasahang siya’y nag-iisa,
ay biglang naupo na lislis ang saya.
At hindi nagtagal ay aking narinig,
ang pabugso-bugsong lagaslas ng tubig.
Aking pong nakita sa siwang ng sahig,
ang kaliwang kamay ay kiskis ng kiskis.
At may kaunti pang natira sa kuko,
nalaglag sa lupa inamoy ng aso.
Nakapagtataka ang aso ay tumakbo,
parang nakakita ng bombay sa kanto.
At namasdan ko pang tila baga sapsap,
hindi naman bilog hindi naman lapad.
Nang aking makita, ako ay nanggilalas,
’pagkat sa tinggin ko’y napikit namulat.
Akong nasa silong ay hindi umalis,
sa mga haligi’y nagpakapit-kapit.
Dahil sa nakita sa butas ng sahig,
and aking katawa’y nagpalintik-lintik.
Ako ay nanigas ang mata ko’y tirik,
hindi humihinga paa’y nanginginig.
Nang ako’y bumangon at saka tumindig,
Lambot ang katawan at basa ng pawis.
Di kaginsa-ginsa babae’y tumayo,
kanyang isinabit ang hawak na tabo.
Dinig na dinig ko ang sabing masuyo,
Salamat O tabo naalis ang baho

^^nice posts/entries guys!:)

^^:D thanks @eonynx, its been a while:D

naisip ko na mag-Spanish naman today:D

El Papa El Mama

el Papa la bomba y Mama de cama,
tres beses birada contodo romansa.

el Papa pagod na, la Mama gusto pa.
el Papa tacas na, por que kanya
lambot na.

el Mama abot viagra para
Papa tuloy pasada.

Rapido! el Papa el Mama!:D

Book launching for Adonis Durado's "Dili tanang matagak mahagbong (http://www.balakerongdaku.blogspot.com/)" and art exhibit featuring the works of Durado, Radel Paredes and Josua Cabrera.
Date: Oct. 18, 2008
Time: 7:30 p.m.
Gallery Q
A.S.Fortuna, Mandaue City,
6410, Cebu, Philippines

The art exhibit will run until the 31st of October.

DILI TANANG MATAGAK MAHAGBONG (http://www.balakerongdaku.blogspot.com/)
by Adonis Durado
Translated by Merlie Alunan

http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Hw8wNt8d-H0/SMNsqsQB0nI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/woe5rbko7to/s1600/bookcover.jpg

Balaki ko day
Samtang gasakay tag habalhabal.
Idat-ol og samot
Kanang imong dughan
Ngari sa akong bukobuko
Aron mas mabatyag ko
Ang hinagubtob
Sa imong kasingkasing….

(from Balaki ko, day, samtang gasakay tag habalhabal)


For more poetry samples, book introduction by Butch Bandillo, the father of modern Cebuano literature, click here for link (http://www.balakerongdaku.blogspot.com/)

INTRODUCTION TO DILI TANANG MATAGAK MAHAGBONG (http://www.balakerongdaku.blogspot.com/)

Here Everything Is Still Floating
by Vicente Vivencio Bandillo



Habalhabal Express

Ang unang balak ni Adonis Durado nga akong nabasa mao ang Balaki ko, day, samtang gasakay tag habalhabal. Kay dugaydugay na lagi kong nadestino sa Hamburg (Germany) adtong panahona, nabag-uhan ko nga gitawag nag “habalhabal” ang motorsiklo nga pamasaheroan. “Skylab” pa man to pagbiya nako. (Dili gyud hinuon makwestiyon ang pagwani sa “skylab” kay kini kuwang sa kablit ug pingis ang pakang, mintras ang “habalhabal”, aw, eksakto pas tukma.)

Mao nga daku ang akong kahimuot nga kini maoy gipili sa tagsulat nga pangpainit para sa una niyang koleksyon sa mga balak. Yamat, mao pa gani atong pag-ilhanay gipasakay man dayon ta sa gwatsinanggong habalhabalakero.

Balaki ko day
Samtang gasakay tag habalhabal.
Idat-ol og samot
Kanang imong dughan
Ngari sa akong bukobuko
Aron mas mabatyag ko
Ang hinagubtob
Sa imong kasingkasing….

(Ako nga nag-angkas luyo ni Inday, katagakon. Ay, habalhabal!)


Simang sa ka Imang

Sa mosunod nga 59 pa ka balak mosuot ta sa kabugangan, mosuong sa imburnal, magpatisoy sa mga eskinita, ug mamuso sa mga kwarto sa buhilamang Bisaya nga maoy kapital sa kalibutan ni Durado. (Nagkaila mi sa pag-uli nako sa Sugbo. Unya nadestino ko sa Dubai, UAE diin bag-o pud siyang nabalhin og trabaho gikan sa Saudi Arabia. Duha ra mi ka tuig nga nagkauban diri kay nasakpan na man pud siya sa corporate headhunters ug gidagit sa Bangkok, Thailand.)

Makapahingangha ang iyang kahanas sa pagpanimhot og materyal sa balak diha sa bantawan o kaha basurahan sa inadlawng panghitabo. Moapung siya sa usa ka esena unya sa dili pa mobiya iya nang nahurot og suyop ang kahumot (o kalang-og) nga nahitaligam-an sa ubang usisero nga hayan baradog mga ilong.

Pananglit, kinsa man guy dili sinati sa bilbil? Samtang ang uban nato igo lang sa pagpislit-pislit o pagpaak-paak ining gitawag sa Iningles og love handle, si Durado nakatagik og balak (Ang babayng way bilbil) kansang mga linya motapot sa lingagngag, morag sebo sa lansiao:

Ang babayng way bilbil kay morag baybay nga way kimba.
Morag sigay nga way bukobuko, tabugok nga way ata....

Apan:

Ang babayng bilbilon morag sugilanong puno sa pasumbingay:
Sa gaawas-awas nga bilbil, may kaunlanan akong pauraray.

Sa balak nga maoy gingalan ining libroha, Dili tanang matagak mahagbong, gituki niya ang kahulogan (he-he) sa konsepto sa hinungdan ug sangputanan. (Pero nagtuo ko nga sa samang higayon buot niyang guntingon ang simod sa nagdumili paggamit sa ilang utok, kadtong modayon lag nganga unya lamoy kon unsay ihungit nila.) Gikan sa iyang dawiraw nakaumol siyag kamatuoran — nga ni John Keats pa, sa iyang Ode on a Grecian Urn, way kalainan sa katahom:

Dili man tingali ang tanang matagak ba mahagbong;
dili tanang mahulog adunay padulngan —
nga ang mga butang nga nakabuhi sa atong kamot
(o natagak gikan sa wanang) adunay tugpahan….
Gani, buot kong hunahunaon karon, nga ang mga kalag
niadtong managtratong gahikog sa pangpang,
kay naungot ug galutaw lang gihapon sa wanang.

Makapahiyom si Keats ining mga linyaha, ilabi na kay maingon nga mas “buhi” ang imortalidad nga naangkon sa managtratong naungot sa wanang kaysa sa managhigugmaay kansang mga luspad nga bayhon gikulit sa lungon nga iyang gihubit.

Apan bisan tuod klarong nalingaw si Durado sa iyang pagsirko-balintong sa malamatong kalibutan sa iyang imahinasyon, wala siya mapakabuta-bungol sa reyalidad sa iyang palibot. Daghan siyang nakita ug nadungog nga wa niya kahimut-i, apan ang iyang pagpamadlong gipaagi sa sitsit o tistis, dili singhag o siyagit-siyagit. Ang Kining babaye tumoy sa kahilom, nga nagsugod isip hinagawhawng pahinungod sa kamingaw ug pag-inusara, misulbong lapos sa iyang kasubo unya mihapos og usa ka idlot nga komentaryo nga mora lang kintahay og obiter dictum batok sa panlupig ug inhustisya:

Nganong kung sud-ungon niya ang nangunot niyang dagway nga nalumos sa lawod sa kangitngit, buot niyang magpaanod? Hilabi nag madungog niya ang pagpangawot sa timos nga natastasan sa iyang paku, o ang inagunto sa katabang sa silingang kwarto nga gikamang na sab sa iyang amo.

Patapsing lang, pero makaangol baya.

Sa Kagutom, ang namulong nga wa intawoy ikapalit og makaon, nagyamyam sa kaugalingon nga ang kuraw naa ra sa hunahuna, unya mideklarar (iyang nawong nahibat sa usa ka yam-id nga nakapasamot kapiyahok sa iyang aping):

sum-ol na man nang manok ba.
kanang lansiao natugdunan man
nag usa ka batalyong langaw.
ug kanang unod sa hamburger
iring man na!


Liko sa ka Iko

Sa paggambalay ni Durado sa iyang balak, estrikto ang iyang sukod. Dili sa paggamit sa kinaraang berso-berso. Akong ipasabot nga gimatngunan niya ang pagbalanse sa mga elemento sa balak aron kini makabaton og hapsay nga porma nga parehas, por ehemplo, sa lawas sa babaye.

Ang resulta? Hugot ug bus-ok nga komposisyon. Morag makaingon ta nga gipahamtang niya sa iyang mga mugna ang prinsipyo sa sudoku o magic square, nga dunay kahingpitan ang obra bisag tuwad-tuwaron. Basaha, pananglit, ang Lapis, o ang Sa pagpanaw sa balakero. O ang Panlimbawt, diin ang balak, nga linangkob sa 16 ka mugbo nga linya, morag banig nga huot ug tupong ang pagkalalik:

Dakung ngiob nga lasang
Ang ulo sa tawng nalisang….
Sa kalabirang sanga namalikus
Mga higanteng sawa sa nerbyus….
Ug kanang matag mulo sa lawas
Pagsikdol sa malditong aliwas.

Sa hapit tanang balak ining libroha, gipadayag ang lamdag sa magbabalak ginamit ang timgas nga pinulongan sa sanglitanan. Sa Kalipay, ang usa ka amahan nga nagsud-ong sa nahinanok niyang anak nakaamgo nga diay ang kalipay

kay ingon sa usa ka timba:
ang gitas-on sa pisi
gahisgot kung unsay
gilawmon sa tabay.

Makailad ang pagka-inato sa tingog ni Durado. Dili dayon mamatikdan nga ang iyang mga mugna naglup-it og daghang literary devices. Hiyungi pagtan-aw di ba makita nimo ang bakyano niyang paggamit sa allusion, antithesis, apostrophe, enumeratio, irony, parable, paradox, parallelism, prosopopoeia, pun, oxymoron, stream-of-consciousness, understatement, ug unsa pa diha. Naa pa gani siyay epistrophe ug anaphora.

Tungod kay ang palita sa iyang lingwahe mao man ang inadlaw nga instrumento sa kadaghanan, kalma kaayong nagpasalipod ang kutihan nga mason sa gikamada niyang mga linya.

Ang akong pagdayeg sa disiplina intelektuwal sa tagsulat wa magpasabot nga kulang sa emosyon ang iyang mga balak. Au contraire, and iyang disiplina maoy nakapasamot kaespeso sa iyang mga mugna. Mao kini ang abilidad nga gihisgotan ni Ezra Pound sa iyang komentaryo sa kang T. S. Eliot nga Prufrock and Other Observations:

[T]he supreme test of a book is that we should feel some unusual intelligence working behind the words. By this test various other new books… go to pieces. The barrels of sham poetry that every decade and school and fashion produce, go to pieces…. There is no intelligence without emotion. The emotion may be anterior or concurrent. There may be emotion without much intelligence, but that does not concern us.

Ang Pansit — nga maoy ikaduhang balak ni Durado nga akong nabasa — matawag og uylap sa dughan ug dili sakdap sa utok, apan ang nagdul-it sa kahapdos sa gihubit nga sitwasyon, nga daw lab-as nga samad nga wa pa kadapatig tambal, mao ang way kampat nga pagbahig sa mga detalye:

Mahadlok ko sauna
kung gutumon si Papa, Ma.
Dili na siya mokaon.
Ang platong gisudlan nimo
sa sud-an mokalit lag hagtok
sa imong bagulbagul.

Unya, human niyag pasiplat sa mga sahog sa pansit nga nanab-it sa buhok sa iyang Mama — repolyo, hebe, ug pinakupsang tambok — ang persona nakakita nga:

… sa nagkamantika
nimong danguyngoy
gipuga sa atong bintana
ang limonsitong buwan.

Tan-awa, napiskan hinuon akong mata. Sa akong paminaw, kuwanggol ray di kahilak ining balaka.

Gawas sa yanong mga pulong nga gigamit, nakabig ang akong pagtagad sa buot sa persona. Kinsay namulong? Bata? Hingkod? Tataw nga karon hamtong na siya, apan ang tingog nga mabati sa magbabasa iya sa usa ka gamayng bata, nga way ikasulti, way ikasukol, nga gihakop sa kaluoy nga nagtan-aw sa sinakit niyang inahan. Ang iyang nasaksihan maoy nagluba sa iyang pagkabata apan sa samang higayon mao say nagsalamangka kaniya nga magpabiling bata hangtod sa iyang ikamatay.


Para!

Oops, oras nang motungtong ko sa gapas.

Bweno, himuon kong kuoton nga pasumbingay ang akong panapos pinaagi sa pagsabat na sab ni Pound. Akoy sabat, kamoy sabot.

Mr. Eliot is one of the very few who have given a personal rhythm, an identifiable quality of sound as well as of style. And at any rate, his book is the best thing in poetry since... (for the sake of peace I will leave that date to the imagination). I have read most of the poems many times; I have read the whole book at breakfast time and from flimsy proof-sheets: I believe these are ‘test conditions’. And, ‘confound it, the fellow can write.’

Daghang salamat.


Hulyo 2008, Dubai, United Arab Emirates

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
(http://www.balakerongdaku.blogspot.com/)

Translocating Durado
by Merlie Alunan


When Adonis Durado requested me to do the translation of Dili tanang matagak mahagbong, I yielded to the temptation with hardly a tweak in my conscience. I had been carefully watching out for this book over the years. I say, Butch Bandillo, who introduces the book and who is the first, and possibly the foremost bilingual poet in Cebuano, probably has prior rights to do the translation of this great collection. I acknowledge the fact that Cebuano is not my first language, that I would always remain a humble student of this language, looking over the shoulders of such major writers as Ernesto Lariosa, Pantaleon Auman, Don Pagusara, Rene Amper and Lam Ceballos to name a few. Nevertheless, for Adonis, whose progress as a poet I have watched most intently, I am pleased to do the honors. I hope I have done justice to his works.

Multilingualism is the evolving scene in Philippine Literature today. Collections of poetry appear in multiple languages. A few in my book shelf: Victorio N. Sugbo’s Inintokan (UP Press 2008); Voltaire Q. Oyzon’s An Maupay ha mga Waray ug Iba pa nga mga Siday (NCCA 2008); a volume of Ani, Vol. 33, entitled Nature and Environment (CCP 2007); Virgilio S. Almario’s Sansiglong Mahigit ng Makabagong Tula sa Pilipinas (Anvil Publishing 2006). Back in the early 1990s, I pioneered a collection of works of Southern women writers in the languages of the Visayas, Fern Garden, published by the NCCA. I tried to follow this up with an Anthology of Visayan poetry, also multilingual and with English translations, but this endeavor met with rejection — perhaps its time had not yet come. Today, such redoubtable anthologists as Herminio Beltran of the CCP, and the National Artist, Virgilio Almario, are coming out with multilingual collections of Philippine poetry. This is an affirmation of the Philippine Literature as multilingual; that writing in the many languages of the countryside is mainstream and not just “regional”, a highly disputed terminology which we will not be putting away yet for the next decades; and above all, that the art of translation is here for a long time to come, enriching our literary traditions, and perhaps, brokering the entry of Filipino Literature into the global scene.

Up to the 1990s, I wrote almost exclusively in English. But working with such poets as Adonis Durado, Myke Obenieta, Temistokles Adlawan, and the late Rene Estella Amper in the Cornelio Faigao Creative Writing Workshops of the USC Cebuano Studies Center encouraged me to try my voice in Cebuano. As I accumulated a body of works in Cebuano, I saw the need to translate them into English. Thus I first came to grips with the trials of translation in my own works.

A crucial element of my poetic technique is voice. Writing in English, to my mind, involves “translocating” — my own terminology — a set of reality conceived or experienced in the native language into the alien ground of English. Poetry is essentially speech or utterance. Speech is seldom a pure detached phenomenon — it is the product of a convergence of circumstances, and it covers attitudes, emotional shades, social class, intellectual quality, courtesies, time, purpose, given or implied — all of which the poem must adumbrate, for which the term “translation” hardly seems adequate. It may be possible to translate prose statements from one language to another, but a poetic expression is much too complex for such a direct treatment. Reading the voice by which the poem speaks involves perceiving the complex universe in which a human being addresses another or speaks to himself, or laments, or rejoices, or yells in anger and despair. Translation is not sufficient for poetry as much as “translocation” is, collocating the poem in a voice closest to the universe of the original language, in which, possibly, the new language would not even yield its equivalent.

Herein lies the challenge of this piece of job. For Adonis Durado, to his credit, speaks in a Visayan idiom that has no equivalent at all in English. Thus the English language has to be bent and recreated (or reinvented, if one prefers) into what might imaginably be the English of the bisdak himself or herself, depending on what “voice” he has chosen to invent his utterances. It’s risky business, and for such efforts, the translator (or translocator) takes chances with the audience. It is true that the translation is almost always a pale shade of the original. Be that as it may, it is the translator’s responsibility to retain the poetry in the new language, as true to the mode and intention of the original as he or she can do it. There are, unavoidably, passages of discomfort all over this effort. But we have endeavored to keep true to the poetic idea, and we have not taken liberties with the poet’s vision, which are always, always, unerring as a shaft of arrow piercing the very heart of death.


July 2008, UPV Tacloban College, Leyte, Philippines


POETRY SAMPLING

Pagpangga

Kung duna kay panggaon,
tigumon mo diha niya
ang imong kaugalingon.
Iakob mo ang imong palad
diha sa iyang palad,
susama sa pagtak-om
sa duha ka nabuwag
nga kabhang sa kinhason.
Hipuson mo tuod
iyang pahiyom ug tutok,
diay aron iuli nga tibuok
pinaagi sa halok.
Mahimong itugot mong
isum-ok ka niya
ngadto sa lasang
sa iyang gibati ug hunahuna,
tungod sa utlanan niini,
nasayod kang ang mga sulog
sa busay sa iyang handumanan
kay misteryusong matigom
nganha sa lawod
sa imong dughan.
Ug kini ang rasun nganong
may kamingaw ka
nga masabtan diha sa anino
sa nag-inusarang kahoy.
Nganong may kasikas
sa kabalaka nga mamukaw
inig bukot sa kadlawon
dihang mialimungaw kanimo
nga wa siya sa imong kiliran.
Apan sa pagkaplag
nga nahinanok ra diay
siya sa imong luyo,
gakson mo siya uban
sa kalipay nga nasinati
sa umang nga nakakaplag
og bag-o niyang bayanan.



Love

If you love someone
put all of yourself
in her.
Press your palm
over her palm
the way the two shells
of a clam
connect.
Keep kindly
all her smiles, her looks
that you may return them whole
with your kisses.
You could
allow yourself to be thrown
into the jungle
of her feelings and her mind
because at their edges
you know there are whirlpools
springing from her memories
which will gather mysteriously
into the ocean
of your heart.
That’s how you’ll sense
the huge sadness seeping
from the shadow
of that lone tree,
why bad dreams
waken you as dawn
wraps still the world,
an omen warning you
that she’s no longer by your side.
But when you discover her
peacefully sleeping
at your back
you’ll embrace her with
the joy of the hermit crab
who has found for itself
a new shelter.

(Translated by Merlie Alunan)


- - - - - - - -


Pagkaugdaw

Makapaig ang kainit sa alas-dos.
Samtang gapasilong ilawom
Sa landong sa poste sa kuryente,
Mingislo ang nawong sa bata
Nga gahangad sa iyang tabanog.
Kay nakuwangan sa hilig,
Mitahirig kini, mitulilik
Ngadto sa gabagang adlaw.
Ug kalit, nalantaw niya sa langit
Nga ang nagkabus-ok nga panganod
Hinayhinayng gitugot sa itom,
Nangisug nga asung nagagikan
Sa sikitsikit nga mga atup.
“Sunog! Sunog! Su——————nog!”
Kalit nagkatibulaag ang mga istambay
Nga gaduwag dama sa may tindahan.
Ang mga naghingut-anayng inahan
Sa pantawan midalig saka, sakmit
Sa ilang mga anak nga giduyan
Sa katagpilaw sa udtong tutok.
Ang lalaki sulod sa kasilyas mipugong
Sa ga-ung-ung niyang tubol,
Ug milargog sutoy, ambak sa paril.
Pagkaguliyang. Dunay mga siyagit.
Mga tiyabaw. Pagpangita. Pagkadagma.
Madungog ang sunod-sunod nga siren
Sa trak sa bomberong nagpangabot.
Samtang dali-daling nangahabwa gikan
Sa ilang puy-anan ang mga tagbalay
Nga gainiyahayg pas-an sa bisag
Unsang mapunit nga kabtangan.
Kimpang nga gapas-an og pridyider.
Magtiayong gasalbar sa ilang sala set.
Mga batang gakarakarag, gasikwat
Og plato, kaldiro nga nawanihan og takob,
Sinina, sapatos nga di mao ang paris.
Dayon mapamati ang pag-iwigik
Sa mga nalitson nga baboy,
Hasta ang pagpakiluoy sa mga iro
Ug iring nga nangapriso sa balayng
Gihabhab, gilamon sa dilaab sa kayo.
Karon, diha sa pagkaugdaw, mopuli
Ang kahaw-ang sa galamhan.
Mobakho ang byudong nalimtan
Ang lungon sa gihayang minahal.
Samtang matanga ang babayeng
Tungod sa iyahang karatol, kalisang,
Pulir ra sa kilay ang nabitbit.


After the fire

Scorching two o’clock sun.
Trying to find shade
In the thin shadow of an electric post,
The child grimaces,
Looking up at his kite.
Losing slack,
It dips and spins
Towards the blazing sun.
All at once, he sees the sky
Filling with a fat white cloud
Rising from a black rope
Of angry smoke mounting
From the packed roofs of houses.
“Fire! Fire! Fi——————re!”
The bystanders playing checkers
Beside a store quickly disperse,
Mothers cootie-hunting
In one another’s hair in the back porch
Go in and grab their babes
Rocked by sleep in this siesta hour.
The man inside the toilet
Stops his crap before it could
Drop and shoots off,
Leaping over the fences.
Bedlam! So much screaming!
Shouting! Looking for the lost. Falling.
Wailing sirens rising high
As firetrucks arrive one after another
Houses quickly disgorge
Their inmates, each one of them
Lugging anything they can.
A cripple hauls his refrigerator.
A couple tries to save their sala set.
Panicking kids clutching
Plates, pots and pans without lids,
Clothes, shoes which are not paired,
Listen to the pigs squealing
Roasting alive, the dogs and cats
Trapped in the houses, pleading
As the blaze gobbles everything.
Now after the fire, the senses
Fill with a sudden emptiness.
The widower weeps,
Remembering his beloved wife
Whose coffin he forgot to save.
And one woman, too rattled
To think properly, saved
Only a hair puller.

(Translated by Merlie Alunan)


- - - - - - - -


Alang kang Yana
Sa pagpaabot sa adlaw sa imong pagkatawo


Mobutho tingali ka uban sa katapusang
hapus sa balud nga misuwayg dunggo
sa gapnod gikan sa wa hiilhing isla,
ug tugbang sa igmat nga pagtidlom
sa mga hinlilitik ug tamala nga natugaw
sa lim-aw niining gilaay nga aya-ay.
Tingali, iatul kini nimo dihang gibugsay
sa mga hagok ang kagabhion, o kaha
sa higayong miutong ang dag-om,
ug mibuhagay ang daman nga uwan.
Dili — sa imong pagtunga, dungan kini
sa paghunong sa gahadyong nga unos,
diin kalit nga mopuli ang pagpugtak
sa mga sunoy nga gihapak sa kabalaka
dihang napuwak ang mga lubing lahing,
ulahing buwakaw sa bag-ong kadlawon.
Kaha, mokuyog siguro ka sa pagpamukhad
sa mga paku sa alindahaw ug kabakaba
nga gakat-on paglupad — sa unang higayon!
O moduyog ba ron sa awit sa galansiyang
nga gapundok ug nahinangop sa isig usa.
Sa imong pagbutho, dungan ba sab kahang
hikaplagan sa himungaan ang gapiyakpiyak,
nagkatibulaag niyang mga pisu — kini,
sa wa pa gidahik sa mananagat ang baruto
nga gituya sa sulog sa bag-ong taub?
Pinangga, angay kang masayod karon,
nga sa di mo pa malitok ang unang uha,
uban sa ngisi sa unang hinog nga bunga
nga namituon sa ngiob nga punuan,
iapung ko kanunay ang akong mga palad
aron paabuton ang imong pagkapunggak.


For Yana
The day I waited for your birth

You could come with the last wave
lashing in, trying to land onshore
the flotsam from some unknown isle,
startling the mantis shrimps and octopodes
to sink down their nead-tide pools.
Or you might time your coming
while the sleepers paddle through the night
with their snores, or it could happen
when the clouds, bearing down at last,
release their rainy dreams upon us.
Or it could be — that you’d come,
when the whipping squall stops,
and the roosters, hearing the thud
of ripe coconuts falling from the tree,
cluck in alarm, or, as the last meteor
streaks across the early dawn.
You might show up as dragonfly wings
blossom, and moths try flight —
for the very first time! Or you may come
when the bright-feathered starlings
flock together in joy of their kind?
When you appear, will the hen
find at last all her peeping chicks
that had scampered away — this
happening before the boatman drags in
his boat rocking in the surf of a fresh tide?
My darling, now you must know this,
that even before you utter your first cry,
along with the splitting grin of the first
ripe fruit hanging like a star on the dark tree,
my hands are already open, palms up,
waiting to catch you as you fall.

(Translated by Merlie Alunan)


- - - - - - - -


suwat sa sugarol

parts, musta na? nakabuno
kuno atong hiniktang ugis?
idublada akong parte
ugaling itari ni joker
iyang sinyalang buwanting.
debuynason gyud lagi nang
naay gasabak sa panimalay, no?
uy, ni-tip nako si jack
nga kwadro karon iyang chicks.
gisyapulan gyud diay niya
ang kalasera nga sauna
gisuwayan sad nimog dega?
hapit baya to nimo ma-kang,
kung wa pa ka hisakpi
sa financer nimos mahjongan.
pustaanay, matutyo ra na siya?
lisod man nang upat imentin,
labi nag gamay ra kag stopper,
ug imong alas imo rang hitsura.
ang sikreto gud sa pagpangabit
kay naa sa pilde-gana:
dakung dimal kung daghag dama.
maong tagsa-tagsaa og pug-ok
ang baraha aron di dali hisakpan.
likayi sad ang queen diamond
kay ang selosong bana gadalag atsa.
taym pa, niantog kuno nimo
ang ulcer? tabla na diay ta ani:
may lunggong sa kutokuto
kung ugaling masul-an.
barawa na — imni pirmig gatas —
mao nay hirit ni doktora.
mao na nay dibidendo, parts,
kung kita magkatiguwang na.

p.s. damgo nako gabii:
gaturotot nga rayna natikangkang —
4-1-7. irambol lang.





letter from a gambler

howdy, pardner. heard our white
cock won. put my winnings in too
in case joker plays the grey,
that one’s got the marks of a winner.
well, a pregnant woman
in the family brings good luck, eh?
hey, jack tipped me off about
his chicks: he’s got full house, man.
he shuffled, got in good terms
with the lady tip-keeper
you tried yourself before.
almost got her too, i know,
if not for your lady financier
who stalled your mahjong affair.
bet his game plan won’t last.
keeping four mistresses together
is hard to maintain, especially
when you’ve got few stoppers,
and your only ace: your good looks.
the trick of keeping an affair
lies in the game of pilde-gana:
the more you got queens,
the more you lose. so play
your cards well — one at a time,
so you won’t get caught easily.
and stay away from queen diamond
who got a jealous axe-wielding
husband. wait, heard ulcer’s
got you too? that’s two of us now:
shaken dice in the stomach
when it attacks, that’s how it is.
fight it — drink lots of milk —
my lady doctor’s sweet advice.
that’s the pay-off of aging, pardy.

p.s. dreamed last night:
the queen blowing a horn fell on her butt —
4-1-7. just ramble it.


----------------------------------------------------------------
stopper — the highest value in the card game of “chikitcha”
pilde-gana — a game of reverse checkers; whoever lose is declared the winner


(Translated by Merlie Alunan)

You are a chatterbox
Words tick with countless clocks
Needed to wait for time,
For loud silence to rhyme.

A woman of generous rarity,
Prods him not to revel in sweetest sins
Pampered but still beggars fake charity
Sicken him Indulgence till Loathing wins!
You stir men with youthful blooms in each cheek
The spring of life- deaf to winters’ old tale
When Time’s pen writes wrinkles on skin now weak
Lines of bold mistakes in worn pages pale
A knight with many adventures to woo,
An earthly endeavor seeking angels
Nobody’s faithful, many others’ beau
A cunning liar to naïve damsels
****Time crumples us but true hearts marry youth,
****A diamond, by rough ages, made smooth.

Ikiling ang isipan
Sa bayang sinilangan
Kay Inang namamanglaw
Tinig mo'y sinag-araw

Saan ko ibabaling
Itong aking paningin?
Alaala't gunita,
Ikaw at ikaw sinta.

Lasap

Nangaakit ang iyong mga mata
bilugang perlas sa katawan mo
ginigising ang aking damdamin
Kamay mong nakahawak sa akin
Tapusin natin itong gabing panaginip.

One of the poems from Jose F. Lacaba's Edad Medya...

Dili na Makasulti

Dito sa siyudad ng Cagayan de Oro,
sa kalyeng ang romantikong pangalan
ay Yacapin, malapit sa ilog-
dito ako ipinanganak,
pero dili na ako makasulti ng Bisaya-
tama ba ang aking mga salita?

Dinhi ako nagdako,
dinhi sa Cagayan de Oro.
Dito lumipas ang unag sampung taon.
Pero dili na ako makasulti,
makasabot na lang ng dyutay,
ng gamay- ano ba ang tama?-
sa totoo lang, paisa-isang salita lang-
dili na talaga makasulti.


Ang ama ko'y anak ng Bohol,
at Bisaya ang salita namin
sa bahay sa kalye Yacapin-
pero Tagalog ang ina ko,
at hindi ako nakaligtas
sa walang katuturang panunukso
ng mga kalaro at kababata:
"Tagalog, luglog! Tagalog, luglog!"
Sa utak, may sumusungaw na gunita:
napaaway ako, nagdugo ang ilong.
Hindi ko matandaan
kung iyon ay may kinalaman
sa di-deklaradong digmaan
ng mga katutubong wika.

Sampung taon ako
nang sumakay kami ng barko
para tuluyang umalis sa Cagayan de Oro
at manirahan sa Pateros
na bayang sinilangan ng aking Ina.
Madali kong nalimutan-
o nilimot-
ang wika ng kalye Yacapin.
May narinig akong bagong kantiyaw:
"Bisaya, madaya! Bisaya, madaya!"
Maaaring hindi ako
ang binabato ng tukso
dahil hindi ako napaaway.
Ambot sa imo, pero
dahil hindi na namin sinalita,
hindi na narinig , ang wika
na sana'y pamana ng aking ama,
dili na ako makasulti karon ng Bisaya.
Nangaluntoy siya sa dila.
Yawa.

Hindi lamang wika ang nawala.
Sa kaibuturan ng diwa,
may nalalabing mga buhay na ugat
na lagi't laging nag-aapuhap
ng yayakaping gunita.
Mailap ang gunita.
Yawa.

^^napakatapang ng mensaheng nilalaman at ipinahihiwatig ng tula

^^napakatapang ng mensaheng nilalaman at ipinahihiwatig ng tula

Nung unang salta ako sa Cebu galing Markinina, panunukso din ang natanggap ko sa ilang mga kalaro kong Cebuano dahil hindi ako marunong mag-Cebuano noon. yun ay noong 4 taong gulang pa lang ako. Ngayong nasa Maynila na ako, nararamdaman ko din paminsan minsan ang pangungutya sa pagiging Cebuano ko. Pero sa loob loob ko, Pilipino ako.

masaklap isipin na tayu-tayo ay nag-iiringan/ nag-uumpugan/ nagtatalo kung anong wika ang dapat lumaganap sa ating bansa. bisaya, tagalog, ilonggo, batangueño, waray, etc., lahat ito ay dapat bigyan natin ng patas na pagkilala at pagpapahalaga.

ang sa akin lang ay Huwag natin kalimutan/ i-isang-tabi at ika-ila ang mga ito pagtuntong/ yapak/ pagdating natin sa ibang bansa.

alam ko na karamihan sa atin ay nangangarap na makapag-lakbay/ makarating/ makapunta/ makahayon sa ibayong dagat at makipag-sapalaran upang mai-ahon s hirap ang ating pamumuhay - gayun pa man, ilokano ka man o bisaya... wala tayong dahilan para patayin sa ating mga dila ang mga wikang natutunan mo simula pa ng ika'y isinilang sa lupang hinirang.

Seasons of Mist

Today, yesterday, and the days before
The mist came with tendrils of watery vapor
Sulking,
It refused the promise of any bright future
Grudging,
It chose to hold an indefinite tenure
Clutching the light of day
Consuming all in a pall of gray-
Bush, grass blade and berry
The mountains, the sea, the river and valley
Rooftops, spires, towers, the whole city
Nobody, somebody, everybody
Choking the gaiety
Out of everything once lovely.

^^the way i understand it, a long spell of gloomy weather used to describe a perpetually uncertain future! nice one isagani!

^^ Salamat po.

Do you speak and write Akeanon, Eonynx? Can you give us a short sample of Akeanon poetry?

^^akeanon? no. i have a few ilonggo/hiligaynon poems but they lie someplace somewhere. i have to have a thorough search for them to find them again, i guess. i wonder what made you ask that? you thought i'm from aklan?

^^akeanon? no. i have a few ilonggo/hiligaynon poems but they lie someplace somewhere. i have to have a thorough search for them to find them again, i guess. i wonder what made you ask that? you thought i'm from aklan?

Please do. I'd like to read Hiligaynon poems.

I know your primarily from Iloilo but I had this impression that you knew Akeanon as well. Most of my relatives speak Karay-a at home, Akeanon in school (Kalibo) and Hiligaynon as the lingua franca of Panay.

^^that, i'll do.

napapanahon:D

Buhay Patay
By ME

Nababalot sa kadiliman ang aking buong katawan.
Kung may dugo mang nananalaytay sa aking mga ugat,
Ito’y nawala na noon pa man ako’y inihimlay ng kapalaran.
Kung may ulirat mang tinataglay ang aking isipan,
Ito’y nagtapos na puno nang hapis at kalungkutan.
Kung ako’y nakadarama,
Hindi ko pahihintulutan na ako’y lamunin at lapastanganin
Nito’ng nagkikisutang uod na sumusira sa mga lamang
Pinahina ng panahon at karamdaman.
Kung ako’y nakadirinig,
Ilang ulit sana akong tumugon sa mga kwentuhan at tawanan
Sa mga lihiman at balitaktakan
Na aking nadirinig tuwing kayo’y daraan sa aking himlayan.
Kung ako’y nakakapagsalita,
Nakapagpasalamat sana ako sa mga araw na ako’y naalala
Sa mga kandilang nagbigay init at liwanag
Sa mga tumpok ng mababangong bulaklak
Na nagbigay kulay noong ako’y nabubuhay pa.

Alulod
By ME

Maaliwalas nung araw na yaon.
Nababanaag ang sikat ng araw sa mga maninipis na ulap.
May kalamigan ang simoy ng hangin pero pahapyaw na nawawala.
Dali ka, tulungan mo ako sa pagbuhat! Sigaw ng aking ama.
Tayo’y magbibilad ng palay! Pahabol pa niya.
Opo, at ako’y paririyan na! Ang maktol ko’ng sagot.
At nang aming ibuhos ang malagintong butil ng palay,
Sa naglalapadang banig na yari sa pandan,
Ay wari mo’y bahagi ng sikat ng araw.
At kami nga’y nagpatuloy
Hanggang maubos ang kaban-kabang sako ng gintong ani.
At nang tirik na ang araw,
Sa di kalayuan ako’y namahinga.
Ano't nang hindi inaasahan, biglang umulan!
Dali-daling bumaligkas sa kinahihigaan ang aking katawan.
Hindi magkamayaw sa pag-iimpis sa silong ng bahay.
Buntun-buntong banig ay aming sinalansang.
Salamat sa alulod, bigas ay di natilamsikan.

Will love map intimately my palm to you?
Revealing if by random or by fate
Shall close love its eyes, just feel what is true?
If senses can reason heart’s real state
Where wanting affections’ trails and terrains,
Picture ripe seasons and harvest-time fields
For a feast waiting, but waiting through pains,
For savory joy as mutual love yields
Passing their prime, in anguish they rotten
Blaming the destiny of their own choice
Memory blooms with love not forgotten
Showered by hushed rains of a withered voice
****In ripe age and time we let rule heart’s will,
****In sweetest acts of love that make words still.

:badnews:

Lovely Queen, a good high noon!
I wish I'm royal fork or spoon
Be pressed between rosy lips,
Or be the soup to quench your sips

As the scorching, lunch-time sun,
Love's hunger- never temperate
Of lifeless things, dreaming as one
In aiming to be intimate

Charming Queen, a hot twelve noon!
Shall I wait for the Reign of Moon?
Her little light and mild heat,
Can roast this love to tasty meat.

Isaiah 14:12-15

12 How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations!

13 For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north:

14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High.

15 Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit.

(King James Version)


Isaías 14:12-15

12 ¡Cómo caiste del cielo, oh Lucero, hijo de la mañana! Cortado fuiste por tierra, tú que debilitabas las gentes.

13 Tú que decías en tu corazón: Subiré al cielo, en lo alto junto á las estrellas de Dios ensalzaré mi solio, y en el monte del testimonio me sentaré, á los lados del aquilón;

14 Sobre las alturas de las nubes subiré, y seré semejante al Altísimo.

15 Mas tú derribado eres en el sepulcro, á los lados de la huesa.

(Reina-Valera Antigua)



Fallen Star


Before cloaked by death, a star bursts brightest
Our epic rise could be our greatest fall
Morning star appears when night is blackest
Mercy most dazzles on errors we crawl,
Enrapturing us to the eyes of dawn-
Where once our blinding boasts brought in the night
Humility learned is victory won-
Where pride once spoiled our party in the light;
That eons ago-countless-an angel,
Followed this Pride and were plunged into earth
Bringing fake heavens to usher in hell,
Where sins grew old from their heavenly birth
****The heights of titles-with pride-will falter
****Beyond redemption: fallen Lucifer.

Elsa Martinez Coscolluela is an award-winning Filipina poet, short-story writer, and playwright. She is married to Jose Orlando Jr. and has three sons. She finished her AB and MA for Creative Writing at the Siliman University, a school noted for training writers in the Philippines, and also a doctorate in Language and Literature from the De La Salle University.




[edit] Career
Her career as a poet lasted between 1965 and 1973 and these poems are published in a book entitled "Katipunera and Other Poems" published in 1998. In 1973 she focused her writing efforts to writing plays and also to pursue an academic career. Her best known play that earned her great acclaim as a playwright is "In My Father's House" which staged production both in the University of the Philippines and the Cultural Center of the Philippines in the year 1988. This play was also the official Philippine entry to the Association of South East Asian Nations (ASEAN) Drama Festival held in Singapore in 1989. In My Father's House was also staged in New York, San Francisco, Kyoto, and the Philippines.

As an academician she held the position of Vice President for Academic Affairs at the University of St. La Salle in Bacolod and also manages annual Negros Summer Workshops for artists and writers with Peque Gallaga since 1991.




[edit] Awards
She is also a multi-awarded writer. Her achievements include winning the Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for more than twenty times,the prestigious Cultural Center Award in playwrighting, as well as the Philippine Free Press Award. In 1996 she was named National Fellow for Drama by the University of the Philippines Creative Writing Center.

In 1999 she was instilled as a Hall of Famer in the Palanca Awards.



http://en.wikipilipinas.org/index.php?title=Elsa_Martinez_Coscolluela

--------------------

one of my favourite filipino poets in the english language.

Deriada is Palanca Hall of Fame Awardee

MANILA - Dr. Leoncio P. Deriada, one of the UP Creative Writing Center Associates, was bestowed the Hall of Fame Award at the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature last September 1, 2001.
The Hall of Fame Award was established in 1995 and is given to Palanca awardees who have achieved the distinction of winning five first prizes. Dr. Deriada's first prize-winning works are: "The Day of the Locusts" (Short Story, (1975); "Mutya ng Saging" (Dulaang May Isang Yugto, 1987); "The Man Who Hated Birds" (Shirt Story for Children, 1993); "Medea of Siquijor" (One-Act Play, 1999); and "Maragtas: How Kapinangan Tricked Sumakwel Twice" (Full-Length Play, 2001).
Dr. Deriada has a PhD in English and Comparative Literature from Silliman University, and is a full-time professor of Comparative Literature at the University of the Philippines in the Visayas, Miag-ao, Iloilo. He is the third recipient of the Hall of Fame Award among Likhaan Associates and Fellows. Rene Villanueva was among the first recipients of the award in 1995, and Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr. was bestowed the honor last year.


http://www.members.tripod.com/likhaan_online/palancaderiada.htm/

---------------------

my former communications 1 professor.

(for Miss V. 2 years ago)


A passion more than just a feel
Love so burned down is blazing still!
A wood on fire but not consumed
A hell that hosts a love thought doomed
Razing lovers’ kingdom barren
Home to nasty frays once foreign
Where love’s fat flocks and tasty fruits,
Ransacked by hate’s voracious loots
This flaming hell of solitude-
A freezing cold, dark interlude
A damned love that can be saved
So enraptured from one long graved!
Following repentance divine,
Of earthly love that crossed the line,
Beyond borders of mutual hate
Reclaim lost love before too late,
And both return to former state,
Where love is king and ruled is hate
In few battles love surrenders,
A war of hate that love conquers
The cooler heads of the present,
Douse the anger of past now spent,
That in return lights longing’s fire-
With rising smoke on heat’s desire
A season of cold, damp ember,
Warmed by dear past you remember
Charmed memories do reconcile,
The rebel lovers in exile
Who so themselves, declared as heirs!
In triumphs one and one in cares
Retrace their steps to the homeland,
Where alien spites had love still banned.

(for Miss S. today)

Dreams are born to fools like me
Higher fools don't sire them at all
Those greater fools live randomly
Not yet risen, they start to fall

A pilgrim in this land of dreams,
Behind them, I dare not hide
Mortals lackeyed to fancy's whims,
Exiles of life, in sleep reside

Too many brokenhearted people
Fulfill wishes, they're not able
Daydreaming much is their solace
Yearnings become flesh in that place

I'm a dreamer but not alone
Countless-by lonesome-wish their own
Must I or you be really proud?
Behold, let's act our dreams aloud!

the players do have nice clothes to wear
they are flimsy, they might as well bare
their spin doctors have thick clothes to spare
their shameful deeds, mostly seen everywhere

mostly vie for "spectator effect",
whose lives they profit from and affect
throngs deceived, players still entertain
forget the pain that will still remain

who can make the right diagnosis?
of this chronic national disease?
the cancer, long in metastasis,
too late for giving prophylaxis?

and who dares give the right medicine?
for sickly state we long had been in
is it such a bitter pill to swallow?
we opt to only plaster our sorrows

alleviated only are manifestations,
who dares heal underlying conditions?
true radicals "square-root" the problem
the greedy magnifies countless of them

reformation or revolution?
what is the bulls’ eye killer solution?
’round in circles, protagonists go
in their midst are travails they blindly know

can we become again truly great?
is it now the sixth hour? is it late?
that we should lament in our swan song
relive past glory and recent wrong

if an apple is rotten from within,
it matters few if it has sparkling skin
rotten fruits or useless branches of a stem,
or of a trunk are cut from the system

but not pulled are the roots of a tree,
that withstood extreme weathers and gravity
will the planned new tree ably weather?
the ever sharpening perpetual winter

and if indeed there should be a purge,
will the rightful candidates emerge?
whose heads deserve decapitation?
some opposition, some administration

and if we do ought to guillontine,
those guilty of crimes of national sin
will the blades of justice swiftly fall?
to let the guilty heads clearly roll

it continues to be entertainment,
to millions whose hopes are now so spent
watching funny shows of foolish leaders,
brought to power by unruly spectators

who deserves to be burned at the stake?
are they real witches or are they fake?
and who will sit next on his/her chair?
is it the poster choice or rightful heir?

and so the empress and her royal court,
think like her antagonists and cohorts
they rule to suvive and survive to rule,
over and above countless a fool.

*

You, I sway
To please stay!
For my cheer
To be here

Sanlaan/Sanglaan
by ME

Lahat ay napunta sa wala
Noon' pa mang' pasimula.
Ngunit nalathala
Kaya't wag mabahala.
Siya'y dumating sa atin,
Upang tubusin,
Mga nawala sa atin.

meron bang shakespeare book na filipino version? yung mga mamalim na salitang filipino. may nabasa kasi akong isang linya na hango daw dun sa librong iyon.. "sa tamis ng hapis ng iyong paglisan..." na curious lang ako parang ang sarap basahin...:)

^^:) madami tayong mahuhusay at makakatang kababayan na pwedeng ikahalintulad kay Shakespeare

^^Sabagay tama ka diyan Maxxclip. Gusto ko lang naman malaman kung pano nila hinango ang mga nilalaman ng librong iyon sa salitang filipino...:)

^^baka gusto mong magbahagi ng ilang tula na iyong nilikha:)? ang tula ay isang pamamamaraan nang pagbabahagi yaring nangungusap na puso

meron bang shakespeare book na filipino version? yung mga mamalim na salitang filipino. may nabasa kasi akong isang linya na hango daw dun sa librong iyon.. "sa tamis ng hapis ng iyong paglisan..." na curious lang ako parang ang sarap basahin...:)

Does "Florante at Laura" count?

^^ang hinahanap ata/ yata ni @jaygold06 ay tagalog version ng Shakespeare

pero kung Pinoy version ng mga tula ni Shakespeare ay tama ka @kimber

^^ang hinahanap ata/ yata ni @jaygold06 ay tagalog version ng Shakespeare

pero kung Pinoy version ng mga tula ni Shakespeare ay tama ka @kimber

^^tama ka po. yung tagalog version ang hinahanap ko.:)

^^ All I can remember from that play was....

"O pag-ibig, kapagpumasok sa puso 'nino man; hahamakin lahat, masunod ka lamang." :colgate:

^^:lol:

Bangka
By ME

Ilan taon na rin ako’ng naglalayag;
Hindi na rin mabilang ang mga maharlika, makata, at kilalang tao
na napahanga at namangha sa tibay ng pagka-gawa.
Ilan taon na rin ang aking karanansan.
Hindi ko na rin maalala ang musikang bumalot
sa bawat silid ng aking katawan.
Hindi ko na rin mabilang ang putaheng naglabasan
sa aking kusinang pinagpipitagan.
Ilan kaarawan na rin ang idinaos
habang ako’y nasa tahimik na karagatan
Mga magagarbong pananamit ng mga binibini
at naka-posturang kalalakihan sa kahabaan ng hagdan.
Silang lahat ay nagagayak sa bawat gabi ng kasiyahan.
Kwentuhan at halakhakan, indakan at sugalan,
lahat ay nasilayan habang sila'y nakamasid
sa adorno ng silid-aklatan.
Ano pa’t dumating ang hindi inaasahan.
Bagyong walang awa, nilamon ang rangya.

^^sige, ipagpatuloy nyo lang yan!:lol:

let me dwell in your heart!
it's where i find home
together or apart,
in my thoughts you roam.

---------------------------
happy love month everyone!

^^yes
Let God dwells in our heart

Kung ang Tula ay Wala
Albert Alejo, S.J.


Kung ang tula ay wala

kundi kangkong sa sikmura

lalo pa nga kung inumit

sa munting tindahan

ng kapwa nagpapawis,

di hamak ko pang

nanaising makinig

sa dalawampu't isang

taludtod ng kampana

na binibigkas

sa katanghalian,

o kaya nama'y tumitig

sa andap ng kandila

na bumabasbas

sa oras ng hapunan,

pagkat ako'y bumubuay

at ang loob ko'y pagod na

pagod na pagod na.

Nasilaw na ako sa kinang

ng mga langit na de-lata

at nalason lamang

sa pagsubo't pagdura ng bala.

Kaya't para na ninyong awa

mga makatang kapwa ko rin dukha,

huwag kayong manukso

at huwag ding magpatukso

kahit pa nga ba ang tula

ay maging letson sa bunganga.

Ang Aking Panulat Ay Isang Tag-araw
Teo T.Antonio


Kahit na limusan ng ulan ng Mayo

ang dukhang panulat,

tigang din sa dugo't luha ng maraming

mga pangyayari sa kasalukuyan.

Tigang din ang papel na pagtutulusan

ng mga katagang bubuo

sa mga hinagpis, himagsik

na di makasibol sa tuyot na labi

ng ating panahon.



Wala na ang lintog ng mga katagang

iwinawagayway ng talim ng uhay

sa aking panulat.

Wala rin ang bugso ng sulak at sidhi,

ang mga taludtod na idinidilig

na tulad ng ulan,

sa lupang siniil ng sikat ng araw.



Gayunman, kahit na ang aking panulat

ay isang tag-araw

na simot ang luha ng mga salita,

at nangangalirang ang dugo

ng bawat piniling taludtod,

maghuhumindig din ang talim at tulis

ng abang panulat na tulad ng tudling,

na itinutusok sa dibdib ng bukid

kapagka bumubugso ang sanlibong hamog.

Ang Hatol ng Kasaysayan
Anthony F. V. Serrano


Ang iyong pagdapit

Sa balinsusong dawag ay kakambal

Ng isang manisnis, malinsuob na liwanag,

Subalit isa ka rin palang paruparong hubad.



Magaway ang uyayi.

Matalim ang kidlat.

Mahaba ang sungkit.

Malaki ang butas.



Sa pagbagtas mo sa kabilang pampang,

Isang salinlahi ang kasamang napalungi.

Ang lahat ay natuto sa buhay mo:

Ikaw ang hari'y ikaw pa ang payaso.



Ibinaligya mo ang talinhaga

Ng mga buntala

Sa baak na anino

Ng isang pangitain.



Ngayo'y nananahimik ang mga lunsod

At nagigising ang mga talampas.

At ang ngalan mo ang linab

Sa uliuli ng bulkan.

Payo Sa Bumabasa Ng Tula
Rolando S. Tinio



Hindi nalalayo

Sa pagpangos ng mangga

Ang pagbasa ng tula.



Amuyin, sapulin sa kamay.

Ipalasap sa palad

Ang init at kinis ng balat.

Saka hubarin ang dilaw na katad

Na minsan may itim na pekas,

Parang matang ibig mangusap.



Huwag na huwag ngangatain.

Tubo at mangga'y magkaibang sining.



Tandaang laman ay parang laman.

Humihingi ng ingat, pagmamahal.

Turuan ang ngiping dumagan

Nang hindi mag-iiwan ng sugat.

Unti-untiin ang pagsisiwalat



Sa buto. . .



Na namimintog, lumalapad-

Kutsilyong walang talas.

Pinatuyong sinag ng araw.

Usok-at-ulang nagsabato.

Garing na di pa nakakatam.

Siksik na taguan ng yabong,

Lilim, at tatal.



Huwag mithiin ang asetikong buto,

Ang puting ermitanyo,

Bago mapagdaanan ang mga ehersisyong

Karnal.

Bayaang maganap

Tamis, pait, saklap

Sa isang panlasang wagas.



Huwag kainipan ang labo

Ng pisnging humuhulas.



Pagkatapos na makipagtapatan

Sa mga istasyon ng pagkalaman,

Kusang liliwanag

ang sagradong buto-

Na simbigat ng katotohanan,

Singgaan ng pangarap at kalawakan.

Declamada por la Sra. Doña Delfina San Agustín de González (1905-1992) - Recitadora Filipina en castellano. La estrella mas grande del Teatro Español en las Filipinas. Encantadora, y artista de la palabra.

RYjWXFTRlvw&feature=channel


A LA JUVENTUD FILIPINA
Lema.- ¡Crece, oh timida flor!

¡Alza tu tersa frente Juventud filipina, en este día!
¡Luce resplandeciente
Tu rica gallardía,
Bella esperanza de la Patria mía!

Vuela, genio grandioso,
Y les infunde noble pensamiento,
Que lance vigoroso,
Más rápido que el viento,
Su mente virgen al glorioso asiento.

Baja con la luz grata
De las artes y ciencias a la arena,
Juventud, y desata
La pesada cadena
Que tu genio poético encadena.

Ve que en la ardiente zona
Do moraron las sombras, el hispano
Esplendente corona,
Con pía y sabia mano,
Ofrece al hijo de este suelo indiano.

Tú, que buscando subes,
En alas de tu rica fantasía,
Del Olimpo en las nubes
Tiernísima poesía,
Más sabrosa que néctar y ambrosía;

Tú, de celeste acento,
Melodioso rival de filomena,
Que en variado concento
En la noche serena
Disipas del mortal la amarga pena;

Tú, que la peña dura
Animas al impulso de tu mente,
Y la memoria pura
Del genio refulgente
Eternizas con mano prepotente;

Y tú, que el vario encanto
De Febo, amado del divino Apeles,
Y de natura el manto,
Con mágicos pinceles
Transladar al sencillo lienzo sueles;

¡Corred!, que sacra llama
Del genio el lauro coronar espera,
Esparciendo la Fama
Con trompa pregonera
El nombre del mortal por la ancha esfera.

¡Día, día felice,
Filipinas gentil, para tu suelo¿
Al Potente bendice,
Que con amante anhelo
La ventura te envía y el consuelo.

---

TO THE FILIPINO YOUTH
Theme: Bloom, oh timid flower!

Raise your unruffled brow
On this day, Filipino Youth!
Resplendent shines
Your courage rich,
Handsome hope of my Motherland!

Fly, grand genius
And imbue them with noble sentiment
That vigorously rushes,
More rapid than the wind,
Its virgin mind to the glorious goal.

Descend to the arena
With the pleasant light of arts and sciences,
And unbind, Youth,
The heavy chain
That fetters your poetic genius.

See that in the bright zone
Where lived the shadows, the Spaniard
With pious and learned hand,
Offers the son of this native land
Resplendent crown.

You who ascend
On wings of your rich fantasy,
Seeking from Olympus in the clouds
Tenderest poetry,
Sweeter than nectar and ambrosia;

You of the celestial accent,
Melodious rival of the nightingale,
Who with varied melodies
Dissipates the mortals’ bitter pain
In the night serene;

You who animate the hard sorrow
With the impulse of your mind,
And with prepotent hand make eternal
The pure memory
Of the refulgent genius;

And you, who with magic brushes
Are wont to transfer to simple canvas
The varied enchantment of Phoebus,
beloved of Apollo divine,
And the mantle of nature.

Run! For the sacred flame
Of the genius awaits to be crowned with laurels,
Spreading fame
With trumpet proclaiming
O’er the wide sphere the mortal’s name.

Day, oh happy day,
Philippines genteels, for your soil!
Bless the Almighty,
Who with loving desire
Sends you fortune and consolation.

^^superlative

Bagong Simula
By ME

Sadya bang nalugmok
Sa animo’y palusong na tatsulok.
Ako’y nasubsob at naghihimutok
Sa mga matang mapanghusga
At salat na kaluluwa.
Taliwas ko’ng mga paa
Sa matuwid na katwiran umasa.
Malayo pa nga ang umaga
Na sa pangako’y umayuda.
Hanggang madinig ang tinig.
Katupara’ng nabinbin
Sa wakas ay diringgin!

Paano Na?
Rofel G. Brion

Sa Wakas

Umulan kahapon

At kahit napakainit

Nang tumila ito,

Kahit papaano

Naibsan ang pagkayamot

Sa napakaagang pagdating

Ng tag-araw.



Pebrero pa lamang

Nang magsimulang matuyo

Ang damo.

Dati-rati'y maginaw pa

Sa buwang ito.



At kahapon, nang umulan,

Maraming nakahinga nang maluwag.



Ngunit nang muling umaraw

Pagtila ng ulan,

Biglang namalayan

Na dati-rati'y

Hindi umuulan kung Marso.



Paano tatanggapin

Ang unang ulan ng Mayo

Na dati-rati'y

Matagal na hinihintay?

Ano ang gagawin

Kung mapaaga rin

Ang mga bagyo ng Agosto?



Paano kung guminaw na

At muling uminit

Bago dumating ang Pasko?

Gabi ng Lagim
by ME

Ibayong paghahanda
Ang sa atin ay ibinabala.
Maging mapagmatyag
Sa bawat paglalayag.
Sapagkat ang ugat
Ay muling manunugat.
Hanggang magkapilat
Ang balat na may sulat..
Araw nga’y di sisikat
At walang masisilat.
Ngunit dakila ang mata
Ng tupa sa baka.
Waring nangungasap
Sa lagim ng takip-silim.
Lahat nga’y napayuko
Sa hiwaga ng sumuko.
Isang pinagkalulo
Sa wakas ay namuno!

E. SAN JUAN, Jr. was recently visiting professor of literature and cultural studies at National Tsing Hua University in Taiwan and lecturer in seven universities in the Republic of China. He was previously Fulbright professor of American Studies at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven in Belgium and fellow of the Center for the Humanities at Wesleyan University. Among his recent books are BEYOND POSTCOLONIAL THEORY (Palgrave), RACISM AND CULTURAL STUDIES (Duke University Press), and WORKING THROUGH THE CONTRADICTIONS (Bucknell University Press). Two books in Filipino were launched in 2004: HIMAGSIK (De La Salle University Press) and TINIK SA KALULUWA (Anvil); his new collection of poems in Filipino, SAPAGKAT INIIBIG KITA AT MGA BAGONG TULA, will be released by the University of the Philippines Press in 2005.


The Three Temptations
E. San Juan, Jr.


"What death would you desire?"

She says: "A bronze death that yields

a cloister for the heart; or that



which is charter for a giant, a silver death;

or that for which one must labor:

one's sacrament, that's a death of gold?"



Alas, how can your pilgrim choose?

Always there's the hissing of fire--

On my neck creeps the salamander!



But here on this steadfast ground

earth whereon the mighty have fallen,

gnomes choir a bronze hymn to you



and yet could I but rear for myself--

a giant's head far from all solitude--

O how the undine's luster shall flood



into my silver sepulcher! For it is fate

out of gorges between sheer cliffs

that gives us wings for pilgrimage



and you who dance like a scented sylph

on the winds have not, have not

the golden character of grace



and should you but pray for me

'a fine and private place' plucked up

for this death, my death, that's golden



to you alone I give my only name--

"Oh, now, what death would you desire?"

She says: "There is only my embrace."

Love indeed can smoothly thwart,
Mind’s control on carefree heart
You try in vain to eclipse
Love’s rays shine in uttered slips

The sun ascends in the day;
The moon and stars in the night
Love’s moment will not delay,
In Time’s assigned date to light.

Paspas at Ligalig
By Me

Dilat na mga mata
Bibig na nakabuka
Palad na nakasahod
Sa langit naghinuhod.

Tubig nga’y di papatak
Sa nagniningas na pugon
Hanggang hangin ay umiwas
Sa ilang na nayon.

Putik at burak
Tugon sa bitukang tigang.
Butil nga’y di lunas
Pagdarahop ay di kukupas.

At sa bahagyang pagpawi
Gutom ay nasawi.
Sa pagdanak ng dugo
Kapalit ay kapirasong pagsamo.

Paspas nga’t ligalig.
Sino’ng masasawi?
Pinagkaitan ng kapalaran
Sa yungib nadatnan.

Sanaysay sa Tula
Alejandro G. Abadilla


Ang tula ay sining.



Iisa ang kanilang daigdig:

Ang daigdig ng mga kaluluwa.



Iisa ang kanilang kaharian:

Ang kaharian ng kagandahang mulala at

walang malay

Sa kanilang sarili-

Sila na mga matang may pananaw sa dilim,

Sa karimlang mahiwaga,

Sa rurok-lalim ng karimlan.



Iisa ang kanilang kaharian:

Ang kaharian ng kagandahang mulala at walang maliw-

Ang kapangyarihan ng Bathalang nasa tao.



Ang tula ay sining:

Ang katauhang nagbalik sa dati niyang sarili:

Sa sarili niyang dumarama lamang,

Sa sarili niyang nagmamatuwid,

Sa sarili niyang daigdig ng karurukan,

Sa kaharian ng Bathala.

Sukli
by ME

Tao!

Nilalang
At isinilang

Isang basong paghihirap.
Dalawang kutsaritang paghihikahos.
Tatlong pirasong paglapastangan.

Ang bawat pintig ng puso
Katumbas ay bagong anyo
Pagbabagong hinangad
Nang dalawang tao’ng hubad.

May nagbago ba?
Tanong ng batang yagit
Na sa kabila ng pagkamusmos
Ay hindi mabigkas ang pangalan
Na sa kaniya’y nagtanyag.

Oo!
Siya’y natanyag.
At sa pagkakatanyag siya’y namayagpag.
Sapagkat mula sa wala siya’y natagpuan
Nang mga mata’ng
Yaman lang ang alam.

Dinumog nga ng mga kaibigan, kakilala’t kawatan
Hanggang ibalik sya sa gitna ng kawalan.
At sa kanyang pagkadapa’y
Walang kamay ang nakiramay
Sapagkat tanyag at papuri
Kanya lamang ipinagbunyi.
Ni hindi tumingala at nagbigay sukli.

Salita
By ME

Mag-ingat ka sa pananalita
Pagkat iyan ay hiram mo lang
Kahit umurong ang iyong dila
Hindi ka pa rin nagsasarili
Bakit mo ipagmamalaki
Na ikaw ay lasing
Gayong ang pangungusap mo’y
Hiram lamang sa gin?
Sino ka ba sa inaakala mo?
Na handang tahakin
Ang kabilang dulo ng mundo?
Salita ka ng salita
Hanggang mapaos ang iyong dila.
Maituturing bang iyo
Ang pag-imik ng salita ko?
Sasabihin ko sa’yo
Ngunit itatanggi mo
Sapagkat ang nagsabi
Ay hindi kailan man
Kailan man ay nagsabi
Dulos man ay ikubli
Sa balikat ng pisngi
Salitang hiram
Sa dulo ng dila nakamtan
Katotohanang hiram
Kamatayan lang ang kabayaran!

Paglikas
by ME

Tila nga nakakatulala
Yaring aking tula,
Tawid-dagat na paglikas
Bigkis lahat sa pagbigkas

Tila nga tula
Yaring aking dula
Isang tulala
Nakabasa ng tula

Tilaok nga ng manok
Yaring naging himutok
Lahat ay namundok
Panhik manaog sa bundok.

Tilamsik ng himagsik
Sa lahat ay namamanhik
Gawa nga’y isiwalat
Pagkat lahat ay masisilat

Sa lahat ay binanggit.
By ME


Sukdulan ang kasamaan
Sa aking kinagisnan.
Kadiliman ang namayani
Kamatayan ang namutawi.

Sa lahat ng dako
Kapusukan ng tao
Sa lahat ng dako
Kasuklam-suklam ang tao

Sukdulan ang kasamaan
Sa aking kinamulatan
Karumaldumal ang asal
Kamatayan ang dasal.

Sa lahat ng sulok
Kahayupan ang dulot
Sa lahat ng sulok
Kalaswaan ang sagot.

Sukdulan ang kasamaan
Sa aking kinadatnan
Kakila-kilabot yaring inabot
Kahatulang mahigpit

Sa lahat ay binanggit!

Paspas at Ligalig
By Me

Dilat na mga mata
Bibig na nakabuka
Palad na nakasahod
Sa langit naghinuhod.

Tubig nga’y di papatak
Sa nagniningas na pugon
Hanggang hangin ay umiwas
Sa ilang na nayon.

Putik at burak
Tugon sa bitukang tigang.
Butil nga’y di lunas
Pagdarahop ay di kukupas.

At sa bahagyang pagpawi
Gutom ay nasawi.
Sa pagdanak ng dugo
Kapalit ay kapirasong pagsamo.

Paspas nga’t ligalig.
Sino’ng masasawi?
Pinagkaitan ng kapalaran
Sa yungib nadatnan.

wow! magaling!

Gising
By ME

Pagkat pupunta ang lahat
Sa bukal ng kawalan
Hanggang ang liwayway
Ay magdilim sa kaarawan.

Bakit ka nalilito?
Ito’y hindi bago.
Datapuwat kinikilala mo ako
Hanggang makalimutan ako

Bato man ay pipi
Sya’y tanging saksi
Buhat sa panimula
Bago pa ang panimula

Nakita ko ang salita
Patuloy sa pananalita
Ngunit kaila sa iba
Lahat ay nag-iba.

Hindi kita pinilit
Ikaw man ay galit
Hindi ko iginiit
Pagkat ito’y pilit.

Bukas man ay dumating
Sa huni ng gising
Sila’y mapalad
Sa kanila’y natupad!

by ME

Tao nga'y tulad ng latigo
Patulo'y sa paghagupit
Hanggang tumagos sa balat
Hanggang mapunit ang laman
Hanggang makita ang buto
Hanggang malaman ang kulay nito!

Life


Today
or tomorrow
we will go to this or that city,
spend a year there,
carry on business and make money.
Why?
You do not even know what will happen tomorrow.
What is your life?
You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

http://www.stampscapes.com/hand1.jpg
photo from stampscapes.com


"Pi"

Oh! Life
is a circle-
an electron of carbon
spinning round the nucleus
of an atom
in the sugar base
of a strand in the
twisting helix of DNA.

Like the moon
that revolves around the earth
that goes 'round the sun,
that circles the Milky Way
like some cosmic
merry-go-round
and galaxies
sweeping away
to undefined infinity,
to the boundless reaches
of a universe
that may be
a sphere.

But oh how simple
it seems to my eyes--
spheres themselves--
how we all revolve
around each other,
how my world
goes around yours,
how everything starts
and ends
and begins again
like this poem.
And oh!
Life is
a circle.

:)Everyone is invited to critique.:bash:

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3527/3267276484_1595ccf694.jpg?v=0
photo from Jerry Webb's flickr


"We Buried You on a Rainy Afternoon"


We buried you on a rainy afternoon
in the middle of July 2000
when we were both sixteen--
both of us eager to see the world,
you said so yourself.
I remember your mother wailing
as you were lowered down
the wet earth, freshly dug
and how for months after that
her wails continued to haunt my dreams.
Sometimes I still hear it
in those uncertain moments
between waking and sleep
or as a shout of thunder
after lightning rips the sky open
like a wound where instead of blood,
rain pours down, beating angrily
On the pavements, on the flowers--
the feeling I get standing before
a waterfall, its subtle violence
where I, so small and fragile,
wept in rage, my cries silenced
and lost in the thundering flood.

^^keep flowing those creative juices guys!:)

http://www.sarangani.gov.ph/newsimg/1121-a.jpg
photo from sarrangani.gov.ph

"Nostalgia"

Today, I wake up.
I rise from the comfort of pillows,
sweet, sun-dried scent of blanket,
soft breeze when it sweeps my feet,
like the way it swept my face
when mother held it over me
while I lie down the mat.

Then I sit by the window,
crisp and fragrant air
softly kissing my cheeks.
Homely odor of grass,
fresh, sultry smell of shampoo
and soap wafted to me
as children bathe outside.

I am listening to
sweet music of birds
perched on the post
twittering on treetops
while the wind waltzes
leaves, falling lightly
on browning blades of grass-
green, brown, yellow
changing hues with the passing
of cloud shadow,
cumulus fleet silently sailing
in the bluest skies.

I am waking up today
like I woke up before
on summer afternoons
when siesta was torture
for a six-year old.
I am waking up,
the world is waking up
to long shadows
when the sun must be going to bed
and children play along streets,
in backyards, trees, and fields
while the sky turns orange,
fiery red, then black.
Darkness comes along like wind
and the angelus rings.
Yes, we must go home
because the night has come.

Paglikas
by ME

Tila nga nakakatulala
Yaring aking tula,
Tawid-dagat na paglikas
Bigkis lahat sa pagbigkas

Tila nga tula
Yaring aking dula
Isang tulala
Nakabasa ng tula

Tilaok nga ng manok
Yaring naging sinok
Lahat ay namundok
Panhik manaog sa bundok.

Tilamsik ng himagsik
Sa lahat ay namamanhik
Gawa nga’y isiwalat
Pagkat lahat ay masisilat

Kasalan
By ME

Hinahamon kita, O tulang makata.
Dinggin mo ang lalim ng hiwaga
Na bumabalot sa bawat titik
At bawat hudyat ng ‘yong pananalita.
Subukan mong itarak ang panulat
Sa dibdib at pusod ng dagat.
Hayaan mong iukit at ililok
Ang mga kasaysayang walang pahinga.
Patuloy silang sumisisid sa kailaliman
Walang pagod, hanggang lumutang,
At kainin ng uwak ang laman sa kapatagan.
Ipinta mo nga ang kanilang paghihirap.
O napakasaklap, pagkat dugo ang tinta.
Tinta na hindi maiguhit sa palad ng biktima.

Hinahamon kita, O maestro ng obra!
Itubog mo sa pilak ang gintong mukha.
Palamutian mo nga at punuin ng adorno,
Hanggang kasiyahan mo’y maisakatuparan.
Labit ang iyong mga papuri,
Upang maging alay ng iyong mga labi.
Itayo mo ang altar ng luklukan.
Sabihin ng buong lakas ang iyong pangalan.
At tutugon Siya, Sino ka!?
Hindi kita kilala!!! Umalis ka sa dambana!!!
Wala akong kilalang ligaw na tulad mo,
Hindi ka kawalan, Hindi ka kabilang.
Magmadali nga ang tinawag,
Ang kasalan ay sa pinagtagpo
At pinagkasundo lamang.

Balaki ko day samtang gasakay ta’g habal-habal
By Adonis Durado

Balaki ko day
Samtang gasakay ta’g habal-habal.
Idat-ol og samut
Kanang imong dughan
Nganhi sa akong buko-buko
Aron mas mabatyagan ko ang hinagubtob
Sa imong kasing-kasing.
Sa mga libaong nga atong malabyan.
Gaksa ko paghugot
Sama sa lastikong
Mipungpong sa imong buhok.
Ug sa kainit sa imong ginhawa
Gitika kining akong dughan.
Ang mga balili unya
Nga naghalok sa ‘tong batiis
Isipon tang kaugaligong mga dila.
Dayon samtang nagakatulin
Kining atong dagan,
Mamiyong tag maghangad
Ngadto sa kawanangan
Aron sugaton ang taligsik
Sa uwan, dahon, ug bulak.

Tulaan Mo 'Ko, Inday, Habang Lulan Tayo Ng Habalhabal
Isinalin ni Luis Batchoy

Tulaan mo 'ko 'day
Habang lulan tayo ng habalhabal
Idiin mo pang lalo
Ang 'yong dibdib
Dito sa aking likod
Upang lalo kong madama ang dagundong
Ng puso mo.
Sa mga lubak na ating madadaanan
Yakapin mo 'ko ng ubod higpit
Tulad nyang lastikong
Nakatali sa iyong buhok.
At sa init ng 'yong hininga
Kilitiin 'tong aking dibdib
At ang mga talahib mamaya
Na humahalik sa ating mga binti
Isipin nating mga dila natin
Tapos, habang natulin
Itong ating pagtakbo
Pumikit tayo at tumingala
Doon sa papawirin
Upang salubungin ang tilamsik
Ng ulan, dahon at bulaklak.

^^

really? haha...i never thought there's a tagalog translation for this! :okay:;)

Tagumpay
By ME

Mula sa mataas na bundok
Daraan ang tubig mula sa talampas
Hanggang lamunin ang burol
Hanggang ilibing ang kapatagan.

Mula sa apat na sulok ng daigdig
Iihip ang hangin sa kabilang dako
Upang ibuwal ang matayog na kahoy
Upang subukin ang kumapit sa kinapitan.

Mula sa ilalim ng lupa
Uusbong ang nakayayanig na alulong
Hanggang matinag ang dapat matinag
Hanggan mabungkal ang dapat mabungkal.

Mula sa bughaw na kalangitan
Ihahagis ang talento ng tao
Upang ibaba ang kanyang tagumpay
Upang ipakita ang hangganan ng tagumpay.

Araw Na Parating
By ME

Kay gandang pagmasdan
Maririkit na tanawin
Kay sayang pakinggan
Daluyong ng dagat
Kay sarap langhapin
Halimuyak ng hangin
Kay ginhawang damhin
Mga pinong buhangin
Kay lamig lasapin
Bukal ng kasaganaan
Kay higpit yumakap
Araw na parating

LIBINGAN

At ako’y tumuloy sa isang libingang
may bukas na nitsong umaalingasaw,
sa uod na roon ay nagpipistahan
bakit nawawala ang puso ng bangkay?

Saan na napunta, saan na naroon,
saan hahanapin ang pusong parool?
tinangay ng hangin o sadyang pinukol
sa laot ng luhang lumalim sa taghoy?

Ay! ano sa akin kung nagkagayon nga
sa akin bang puso siyang nawawala?
yaan mong mabulok sa piling ng linta
pagkat sa alabok babalik na kusa.

Subalit sandali, masdan mong pamuli
saan ba nahiram ang huwad na ngiti?
bakit di naagnas ng pagkakasawi
ang lihim ng labing tinago ng landi?

Ganyan nga marahil kung ang nahihimlay
natutong umibig nang walang katwiran
kaya’t ang lunggating binaon sa hukay
may tuyot na ngiting hindi mapaparam.

Ang ulilang nitso’y piping sinaksihan
ng isang lapidang nawalan ng saysay
dahilan sa lumot na sadyang binuhay
nang upang ikubli ang aking pangalan!


-Skywalker2008:cheers:

Nakalibing
By ME


Aanhin mo ang ginto’t pilak?
Nagsisilbing baluti sa’yong libingan,
Na syang bumabalot sa bawat haligi
At nagbibigay kinang sa sarili.

Para saan ang ligaya?
Sa gitna ng kasiyahan ay kinuha ka
Naghihikahos ang iyong hininga,
Hanggang bawian ka ng hininga.

Paano na ang katanyagan?
Nakamtan sa mata ng karamihan
Ngunit ngayon ay hubad ka,
Walang saplot at katawa-tawa.

i slowly went down her thigh
the faithful descent made me high
we reached diamonds in the sky,
while on love's treasures, we lie.

Ito Ang Katotohanan
By ME

Ito ang katotohanan
Na ang Anak ng Tao ay walang kakayahan
Ngunit ganoon na lamang ang pag-ibig ng Anak
Na sa kanya’y ipinakita ang hiwaga ng Ama
Na sa kanya’y ibinigay upang lahat ay makakita

Ito ang katotohanan
Nagalak ang pumanaw na nakarinig
Na sa kanila’y ipinarinig ang tinig
Na sa huli’y nagsipagtindig
Na namuhay sa bagong daigdig

Ito ang katotohanan
Na ang Ama ay higit na dakila sa Anak
Na sya’ng nagluklok sa Anak
Na sya’ng ipinakilala ng Anak
Na sya’ng pinaglingkuran ng Anak

Ito ang katotohanan
Na ang Anak ay panganay ng Ama
Na ang Anak ay naluklok sa kanan ng Ama
Na ang Anak ay pinadakila ng Ama
Na ang Anak ay maghahari kasama ng Ama

SIKSIKA LAENG
Melvin Banggollay


Siksika laeng
Ti ay-ayatek
Ti biag ko
Ti pagrukbaban
Inga't panungpalan

Siksika laeng
Ti pagserbiyan
Ti ayaten
iti ayat
a nasudi
ken agpayso
nga awan patinggana

Traveler's Wisdom


Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom.
Though it cost all you have, get understanding.

I guide you in the way of wisdom
and lead you along straight paths.

When you walk, your steps will not be hampered;
when you run, you will not stumble.

Hold on to instruction, do not let it go;
guard it well, for it is your life.

Do not set foot on the path of the wicked
or walk in the way of evil men.

Avoid it, do not travel on it;
turn from it and go on your way.

For they cannot sleep till they do evil;
they are robbed of slumber till they make someone fall.

They eat the bread of wickedness
and drink the wine of violence.

The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn,
shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know what makes them stumble.

My son, pay attention to what I say;
listen closely to my words.

Do not let them out of your sight,
keep them within your heart;

for they are life to those who find them
and health to a man's whole body.

Above all else, guard your heart,
for it is the wellspring of life.

Put away perversity from your mouth;
keep corrupt talk far from your lips.

Let your eyes look straight ahead,
fix your gaze directly before you.

Make level paths for your feet
and take only ways that are firm.

Do not swerve to the right or the left;
keep your foot from evil.

Not Everything Is Beneficial



Everything is permissible
but not everything is beneficial.
Everything is permissible
but not everything is constructive.
Nobody should seek his own good,
but the good of others.
Eat anything sold in the meat market
without raising questions of conscience,
for, The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it


Everything is permissible for me
but not everything is beneficial.
Everything is permissible for me
but I will not be mastered by anything.
Food for the stomach and the stomach for food
but God will destroy them both.
The body is not meant for sexual immorality,
but for the Lord,
and the Lord for the body.

@Maxxclip: Your posts, are they even remotely about Philippine poetry? Are they authored by Filipinos? Because they're kinda detracting from the original intention of this thread.

Immoral Woman



While I was at the window of my house,
looking through the curtain,
I saw some naive young men,
and one in particular who lacked common sense.
He was crossing the street near the house of an immoral woman,
strolling down the path by her house.
It was at twilight, in the evening,
as deep darkness fell.
The woman approached him,
seductively dressed and sly of heart.
She was the brash, rebellious type,
never content to stay at home.
She is often in the streets and markets,
soliciting at every corner.
She threw her arms around him and kissed him,
and with a brazen look she said,
“I’ve just made my peace offerings
and fulfilled my vows.
You’re the one I was looking for!
I came out to find you, and here you are!
My bed is spread with beautiful blankets,
with colored sheets of Egyptian linen.
I’ve perfumed my bed
with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.
Come, let’s drink our fill of love until morning.
Let’s enjoy each other’s caresses,
for my husband is not home.
He’s away on a long trip.
He has taken a wallet full of money with him
and won’t return until later this month”
So she seduced him with her pretty speech
and enticed him with her flattery.
He followed her at once,
like an ox going to the slaughter.
He was like a stag caught in a trap,
awaiting the arrow that would pierce its heart.
He was like a bird flying into a snare,
little knowing it would cost him his life.
So listen to me, my sons,
and pay attention to my words.
Don’t let your hearts stray away toward her.
Don’t wander down her wayward path.
For she has been the ruin of many;
many men have been her victims.
Her house is the road to the grave.
Her bedroom is the den of death.

@Maxxclip: Your posts, are they even remotely about Philippine poetry? Are they authored by Filipinos? Because they're kinda detracting from the original intention of this thread.

matuwid ba lahat ang nasa Pilipinas kaya nasabi mong walang kinalaman ang mga tula?

Wala bang karapatang umangkin ang Imbentor sa kanyang Imbensyon?


paano mo nasabing masugid kang tagasubaybay ng isang babasahin gayung hindi mo kilala ang sumulat nito?

Come, let’s drink our fill of love until morning.
Let’s enjoy each other’s caresses,

i slowly went down her thigh

So she seduced him ...
and enticed him ...

He followed her at once,
like an ox going to the slaughter.

the faithful descent made me high

He was like a bird flying into a snare,
little knowing it would cost him his life.

Don’t let your hearts stray away toward her.
Don’t wander down her wayward path.

we reached diamonds in the sky,

Her house is the road to the grave.
Her bedroom is the den of death

while on love's treasures, we lie.

(fusion verses of eonyx and maxx)

^^:) that's nice Lili, "A Tender Trap":okay:

Wise versus Fool



A wise son brings joy to his father,
but a foolish son grief to his mother.

The wise inherit honor,
but fools he holds up to shame.

The wise man listens to advice,
but the way of a fool seems right to him.

The wise in heart accept commands,
but a chattering fool comes to ruin.

Wise men store up knowledge,
but the mouth of a fool invites ruin.

He who walks with the wise grows wise,
but a companion of fools suffers harm.

The wealth of the wise is their crown,
but the folly of fools yields folly.

The tongue of the wise commends knowledge,
but the mouth of the fool gushes folly.

The lips of the wise protect them,
but fool's talk brings a rod to his back.

A wise man fears the LORD and shuns evil,
but a fool is hotheaded and reckless.

Kapalaran


Kapalaran, Ikaw da'y magmando!
Huyop, Hangin, Ikaw da'y mag-igo!
May mabuhat ba ako
kung pagbut-an mo ang utlanan ko?

Ang ugma ko nasayran mo na;
Nahapatik sa akong mga mata.
Apan wala'y kapuslanan
Ang mga bukton kong buot motuis.

Kapalaran, Imo akong dinakpan,
Giilogan mo sa kagawasan
May mabuhat ba ako
kung mao kini ang akong dalan?

Pasagdi nga malarag ang mga dahon
Ug malaya ang sanga sa kagahapon.
Wala'y bili ang akong panlimbasog
Kay Kapalaran, gamhanan Ka!

Kapalaran, gamhanan Ka gayud!
Wala'y malingkawas sa laang mo--
Ug wala'y kapuslanan
ang nakigbisog nga galamhan ko.

Mabmabtak Ti Bangabangak


I

Mabmabtak ti bangabangak
iti lagip.
Adda dagiti rurog a di maipumpon
ti isem.
Kandila a di malunag ti napalabas
iti kaltaang
iti ita, ket bangkay a malamay
ti lagip.
Rumkuas ti lua iti lungon ti nalipatanen
a nakem.
Ngem tinapoken ti barukong, dinagan
ti rikna.
Ti padeppa ket rimmugman
iti nagkaleddaan
a tanem ti bigat a pinapatay
dagiti bigat.


II

Adda
dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem.
Mabtak ti bangabanga iti lagip: mailiw
dagiti tawa ken ruangan iti kukkok
kadagiti ridaw ken payat iti agdan. (Uray
dagiti pagpigadan, segsegseggaanda dagiti baddek
a maigudagod-nadalus man ken saan.) Kandila
a di malunag ti napalabas iti kaltaang ti ita.
Ngem
agungar pay ngata ti talek
kadagiti nalamiisen a dalikan
ken nagpasugnoden a kama ken dulang?
Nagarin dagiti buong a bote ken sarming,
barut a siitan, natitirad a landok iti rabaw
dagiti sigud a napasig, nalamuyot a pader. (Uray
dagiti ruangan, guardiadon dagiti managatap
ken awanan panagtalek a sikyu a mangsuspetsa,
mangrikisa, di basta mangpastrek iti uray
siasino man a kasingpetan.) Rumkuas ti lua
iti lungon ti nalipatanen a nakem.
Mabtak
ti bangabangak iti lagip ngem tinapoken
ti barukong, dimmagan ti rikna: uray
uso itan a maipakpakita ti sagrado a puseg
ti balasang, awanen umtog a dara wenno
ling-et. (Uray dagiti riang iti luppo
ken barukong, wenno uray muldotan
a teltel, awananen iti tangsit ken awis.) Adda
dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem, ti padeppa
ket rimmugman iti tanem.


III

Mabmabtak ti bangabangak iti lagip,
Di mailawlawag ti ita no apay nga
Adda dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem.
Kandila a di malunag ti napalabas
Ket adu nga apay ken palimed ti nakamassayag,
Mabmabtak ti bangabangak iti lagip.
Rumkuas ti lua iti lungon ti nalipatanen
A nakem ti pulso nga agsalsaludsod no apay nga
Adda dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem.
Tinapoken ti barukong, dinagan ti rikna,
Ket iti panagbangabanga dagiti tuwato iti malem,
Mabmabtak ti bangabangak iti lagip.
Ti padeppa ket rimmugman iti nagkaleddaan
A tanem ti bigat a napapatay ngamin ta
Adda dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem.
Ti bigat patayen latta dagiti managbasol a bigat
Ket adu nga apay ken palimed ti malamay, ket agingga a
Mabmabtak ti bangabangak iti lagip,
Adda dagiti rurog a di maipumpon ti isem.

Buhay Batangueño
Keyza Macuha


Buhay na kaysarap at minsa'y kay lungkot
Magandang buhay, ba't ako nakalimot
Nakalimot sa mundong ginagalawan
Nagsusumamo na ito ay balikan.

Dito sa Batangas, ako'y nagsimula.
Balisong at kape, dito ay kilala.
Tagaytay, Bulkang Taal, mga tanawin
Taga-rito ako, isang Batangueño.

Poetry is often encountered in books, most often within the confines of the school. But those regularly commuting on Metro Manila’s overhead trains would have surely noticed those short verses that make the rather mundane daily commute more interesting.

The verses by well-known poets like Jose Rizal and Pablo Neruda been viewed by passengers of the Metrostar Express on the Metro Rail Transit (MRT) Line Three since last week.

As commuters ride to their train stops, they can enjoy select Spanish poetry that has been translated to Filipino and posted inside the air-conditioned MRT coaches. Meanwhile those waiting to catch the next train in the stations from North Ave. in Quezon City to Taft Ave. in Pasay City see the MRT coaches which are "wrapped" with lines from popular poems on their exteriors.

These are part of the expanded "Berso sa Metro" campaign of the local office of Instituto Cervantes, the cultural arm of the Spanish government. First launched on October 2007, the "Berso sa Metro" campaign was first implemented on the Light Rail Transit (LRT) line from Baclaran, Parañaque to Monumento, Kalookan City.

The LRT coaches were spruced with select verses that were featured on posters as part of the efforts of Instituto Cervantes to promote reading and the awareness of Spanish poetry written by Spanish, Latin American, and Filipino poets.

Jose Rodriguez, Instituto Cervantes director, told reporters that the first "Berso sa Metro" campaign on the LRT trains was so successful that they decided to expand the project to include the MRT line.

"If we can reach even just 1% of the half a million commuters that ride the MRT everyday, then we will be very happy," Mr. Rodriguez said after the launching of the campaign on the MRT Taft Avenue station last week.

Included in the campaign are verses from "Me Piden Versos" (They ask me for verses), one of Jose Rizal’s patriotic poems, as well as the verses from "Tu risa" (Your Laughter), a poem about love written by the Chilean literary hero Pablo Neruda.

Poems by Spanish poets Gloria Fuertes, Ernesto Cardenal, Gabriel Celaya, Juan Gelman, Gioconda Belli, Alfonsina Storni, Gonzalo Rojas, Luis de Gongora and Luis Muñoz were also selected for the campaign, as well as those by Jesus Balmori, Lope de Vega, Luis Rosales, San Juan de la Cruz, Adelina Gurrea, and Angel Gonzalez.

Mr. Rodriguez said Instituto Cervantes is very thankful to the MRT administration for donating the space within the MRT coaches where the poems are posted. It is said that these spaces, when leased to advertisers, cost an average of P300,000 each.

"It is important for us to encourage people to read... and be more aware of the long-standing cultural and literary relations between the Philippines and Spain," Mr. Rodriguez said. — Jeffrey O. Valisno (http://www.bworldonline.com/BW031109/content.php?id=163)

A Noble Wife



A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.

Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.

She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.

She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.

She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.

She gets up while it is still dark;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her servant girls.

She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.

She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.

She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.

In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.

She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.

When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.

She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.

Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.

She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:

"Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all."

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

Give her the reward she has earned,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.

A Tender Trap - Ka(r)ma Apavarga


hahaha!:lol: very clever @lili!

Man's Appetite (Chasing After The Wind)



I have seen another evil under the sun,
and it weighs heavily on men.
God gives a man wealth, possessions and honor,
so that he lacks nothing his heart desires,
but God does not enable him to enjoy them,
and a stranger enjoys them instead.
This is meaningless, a grievous evil.

All man's efforts are for his mouth,
yet his appetite is never satisfied.
What advantage has a wise man over a fool?
What does a poor man gain
by knowing how to conduct himself before others?

Better what the eye sees
than the roving of the appetite.
This too is meaningless,
a chasing after the wind.
Whatever exists has already been named,
and what man is has been known;
no man can contend
with one who is stronger than he.The more the words,
the less the meaning,
and how does that profit anyone?

For who knows what is good for a man in life,
during the few and meaningless days
he passes through like a shadow?
Who can tell him what will happen
under the sun after he is gone?

Katoninungan Kan Mga Duot
Erdie Arriola


Gayung nakatanaw sa sirang nin aldaw
nagaanduyog sa mainit na panahon;
naghahalat na dae namamangnuhan
nawawaran nin pagkakataon.

An durudingkilan kan mga dahon naunabihan
ta' daw dae na kamo nagdudurataan?
an siring na kaugmahan
haen saindo ngonyan?

Gayung naaalang an manga puon
tuyong nagsasarig sa lindong nin diklum
bangguing maheherakon
taweng kapahengaluan an kapungawan.

Misteryosong Taldok
Isko Candaza


Sarong aldaw napaduman ako sa kabuldan
Nahiling ko an dakol na kakahuyan
Ako nagngalas nagayunan sakong pinutol
Dai ko aram igwang tawong nagpupugol

An misteryosong taldok sakong dinara
Daplos sa likod asin labod sa abaga
Pagal an lawas an taldok sakong namansayan
Kun sisay an may sadiri, ako baga nalilibungan

Magayon an kahoy asin pambihira an korte
Kun nata ko nakursunada, ano an nangyare?
Pirang aldaw baga dai ako nangiturog
Maski sigeng kakan pero dai nababasog

Sarong albularyo an sakong dinulok
Warang turog asin pahit sana an kakaulok
Anong rason baga kan misteryosong taldok?
Kun nata ko pinutol, hilinga sa sakong pandok

Dai ko malikayan asin warang padudumanan
Kaya buhay kong ini warang kairibahan
Mientras nahihiling ko an misteryosong taldok
Ini an nagtaong leksyon sakong sinaudok
Siguro an makadangog/ makabasa kan rawitdawit ko
Kamo tabi mangangalas sa mga paliwanag ko
So iba nagtutubod asin so iba warang pakiaram
Kaya ko ini nahaman, ini baga satong namamatean

Sa mga bagong tubo ngonayan, dai sinda nagtutubod
Wara kitang maginibo, sa bagong teknolohiya nakaukod
Ini parte man sana kan tinodan kan mga kagugurang
Ini na an saindang nagimatan kita baga minasulang
An misteryosong taldok, saro man sanang halimbawa
Kun kita nakakasabot o basta na sana kita minatiwa-tiwa
May mga minakontra asin may mga tawong nakaksabot
Kanya-kanyang pagtubod sana dai kita makakaraot

Kun ini an gusto kan lambang saro o persona
Satong isipon ini an naging parte kan buhay ta
Sa ngonayan uya na kita sa bagong teknolohiya
Sato nang malilingawan an sa gugurang na pagtubod baga
Dakol an paagi ngane satong salud marahay
Kun kita may pagtubod sa Dios magian an buhay
Dai lang kita makalingaw sa Saiya kita mag-arang
Tawo lang kita natural na kita man an may pagkukulang

Mayon
Noel Dorente



dai ko man mahapros

an saimong pandok,

iluwas mo sana

padalihigon mo.
dai mo sana pagdugangan

ki saro pang kalag,

akong nakalubong nang

magmamansay

sa saimong kagayunan.
sagkod man,

kun ika madagit,

no dai nanggad na mapugolan,

ikurahaw mo...

ibatas mo an kaanggotan

sa tubig

sa dagat

sa kaparusan,

ta no-ako kaan an makinabang,

gigibuhon ko an ladawan

na magbabalaog ki hadok,

magdadanay man giraray

an marhay mong dangog,

sagkod sa mga suksok na dai pa naaabot.
no-ika man tumurog na,

magpahingalo

mabalos.
liwat yaon an mahayahay na hinangos.
sa otro no-lumuha ka

no-humaya gibuhon mo,

iyo sana an maka-uraw sa gabos

an magpamati kang dai kana mahihiling otro.
giraray maglugo-lugo ka na no-mag-alintuto dai ka

sana mapinaw

sa paghiling ko.


Karangahan: Pagranga sa Panurat Bikolnon (http://karangahanonline.blogspot.com/)

Ha Kamatayon
Vicente S. de Veyra


an baga hiwi niya nga guliat
ha ilarom han kurtina ug bintana han
hospital, diri tungod hin sekreto nga
kakulba ha operasyon han langit o
ano man nga tinatago nga kaham han
kapalaran, kundi tungod nga may

nakit-an hiya nga pulso han lindong
ug sirak nga nagpamatuod han
siring: an nagtikang ha gugma,
matatapos manta, o mga sugad
nga pananglitananan.

diri ha paghimaul-ol, o pagkatanga.
Kundi ha pagtagad han di maluruwas
nga pagbilib ha mga butang nga hinimo
para han at' buta ug urhi nga mga
pagkapausa.

nga sugad hin malagundo nga kasing-
kasing ha dugo han nagnganganga nga
ngala-ngala para han dentista.
Pero waray kagat,
puro ugat

ini nga
inaabat, guliat
nga waray huni, para la ini
han at' bungol ug urhi nga
mga pagkapausa.

Tir-as
Vicente S. de Veyra


"Maupay!" -- an tawag/pulong
nga waray hulagway
han oras nga nagagadayan,
an luwag nga nakuhit

han im' rayandayan,
an kubit nga waray
hulagway han tir-as mo
nga pagkamapulunganon.

"bring your friends close, but bring your enemies closer."

-the godfather-

"politics has no permanent friends. only permanent interests"

-popular quotation-


*****
in uncovering treacherous schemes
nothing is always what it seems
clever, resourceful, russian spies
clothed in hightech, james bond disguise
*
who devised what nosey, smart trap?
the one who plays the hideous cat?
of poisoned crumbs, is there a map?
to chart the end of naive rat
*
and rats are they, naive not so
playing games, they are in the know
a cursed thing of who bit the bait
the fortunes of who lies in wait
*
gossips blur issues, small and big
plotters are lovers of intrigue
who are the makers and breakers?
tragic kings or shrewd kingmakers?
*
a complex or simple device
expose the truth and hide the lies
no honor lies in corrupt fame,
where much is done to hide the shame
*
the plots continue to unfold
success and failure, both foretold
the house is creaking and rotting
cats and mice continue scheming.

i removed the cork of inhibitions
out came overflowing bottled emotions
object of my exquisite taste,
let not this evening go to waste!
*
you sparkle in gilded glass
adorning your lofty class
my nostrils sipping your fragrance
drinking you in a trance
*
get in my senses!
shed all pretenses!
do not just linger,
make this night last forever
*
declaring with boldness, not force
of love's strength, consent is source
i am drunk with wanting,
intoxicate me with fine loving!

Under the Mushroom Cloud
by Joseph D. Greenwood


http://i.usatoday.net/news/_photos/2009/03/24/france-nuclearx-large.jpg

And so the juggernauts roared
As the firebirds soared
And the soldiers howled
While the politicians pleased the crowd
And the children screamed
As the bullets streamed
And the buildings crumbled to the ground
As the bombs rained down
Pounding, pounding
Like a heartbeat
Came the waves of heat
People burning in the streets
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers
We held on
Until the final bomb
And now we are all gone
Nothing else around
Only ashes on the ground
Is this to be our destiny
To leave behind no legacy
Only a fading memory

paumanhin kung hindi ko natapos ang tula na pinamagatang "Customs and Traditions"... narito, buo na ang tula para sa lahat:)


Customs, Traditions, Feasts, and Fellowship Offerings



For they rebelled against the Spirit of God;
They mingled with the nations,
and adopted their customs.
They worshiped their idols,
which became a snare to them.
They sacrificed their sons
and their daughters to demons.

You have let go of the commands of God
and are holding on to the traditions of men.
You have a fine way
of setting aside the commands of God
in order to observe your own traditions!
Thus you nullify the word of God
for the sake of your tradition!

I hate, I despise your religious feasts;
I cannot stand your assemblies
Even though you bring me burnt offerings
and grain offerings,
I will not accept them.

Though you bring choice fellowship offerings,
I will have no regard for them.
Away with the noise of your songs!
I will not listen to the music of your harps.
But let justice roll on like a river,
righteousness like a never-failing stream!

Meaningless



Remember your Creator
in the days of your youth,
before the days of trouble come
and the years approach when you will say,
"I find no pleasure in them"-

before the sun and the light
and the moon and the stars grow dark,
and the clouds return after the rain;

when the keepers of the house tremble,
and the strong men stoop,
when the grinders cease because they are few,
and those looking through the windows grow dim;

when the doors to the street are closed
and the sound of grinding fades;
when men rise up at the sound of birds,
but all their songs grow faint;

when men are afraid of heights
and of dangers in the streets;
when the almond tree blossoms
and the grasshopper drags himself along
and desire no longer is stirred.
Then man goes to his eternal home
and mourners go about the streets.

Remember him—before the silver cord is severed,
or the golden bowl is broken;
before the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
or the wheel broken at the well,

and the dust returns to the ground it came from,
and the spirit returns to God who gave it.

"Meaningless! Meaningless!" says the Teacher.
"Everything is meaningless!"

this thread is full of biblical verses lately. anyway, keep posting guys!:)

excerpts: Loving Young

love's eyes most clearly reveal,
what actions try to conceal
though love's acts can be more loud
acts opposing spread the shroud

cover then those precious looks
plain covered are golden books
if not, then do look away!
love's looks, hiding on display

http://www.hauntedventures.com/2007NEWTEMPLATES/AnimatedAndStaticProps1/AnimatedProps/Scarecrow.jpg

The Scarecrow
Leo Yankevich


Drunk on clouds and yesterday’s rain,
his hollow eyes would hate the stars
and his hat shelter him from pain
to the whir of distant passing cars,

but the cosmos inside his head
is only a vacuum of air:
he cannot feel my angst or dread,
though oft I think he knows despair.

Fastened to the stick of a broom,
his cramped straw feet would touch the ground
and his racked arms embrace the gloom
of anguished nights wound round and round,

but he won’t tame a feral crowd,
nor build temples of a new faith,
nor in tears cry to God out loud,
nor enter heaven like a wraith.

Underneath an unminding moon
amid corn that spreads on and on,
he never lives and dies too soon
as endlessly, I wait for dawn.

Francisco Baltazar produced many poems and songs Mahomet at Constanza, Almanzor y Rosalina, Orosman at Zafira, Don Nuño y Zelinda, La India Elegante y el Negrito Amante, Hatol Hari Kaya (a kundiman), Parangal sa Isang Binibining Ikakasal (a poem), Paalam sa Iyo (a song), Rodolfo at Rosamunda, Pagpupuri Kay Isabel II Reyna sa España, Auredata y Astrone, Nudo Gordiano, Abdol y Miserena, and Clara Belmori. He also wrote a grammatical book El Ensayo de Grammatica Hispano-Tagala. But it was his Florante at Laura that established him as the greatest Filipino literary figure.

Dr. Jose P. Rizal, in a letter to his elder brother Don Paciano Rizal in 1886, acclaimed Francisco Baltazar’s literary greatness and declared that Florante at Laura is a gem in Filipino literature, the one single literary output in Tagalog unmatched in emotional intensity and beauty. Succeeding great Filipino literary figures called Francisco Baltazar “Hari ng Makatang Tagalog” (King of Tagalog Poets) and “El Cisne Filipino” (Poet of Filipino Poets).

Born in Bigaa, Bulacan, on April 2, 1778, Francisco Baltazar mastered the Spanish language at a young age. This enabled him to read many works written in the Spanish language and broadened his consciousness about the oppressive conditions prevailing in the country. He resolved to fight his people’s oppressors and educate his countrymen.

Francisco Baltazar was the first Filipino native literary figure to break free from the restrictive colonial mold. His Florante at Laura blazed a new trail for native writers. He voiced the people’s feelings and sentiments, e.g., “Sa loob at labas ng kaharian kong sawi, kaliluhan ang naghahari” (Evil reigns throughout my unfortunate land). To break free from oppression, he told his countrymen to strengthen themselves. He inserted many native sayings in his masterpiece, e.g., “Ang laki sa layaw karaniwa’y hubad” (Spare the rod, spoil the child).

In Florante at Laura, Francisco Baltazar laid the foundations of a new literary tradition in his country – that literature is also a means to fight evil, that literature should express the people’s sentiments.

Francisco Baltazar died on February 20, 1862. He left many great legacies. He elevated Tagalog as one of the world’s major literary languages. He laid the foundations of our National Language – Pilipino. He was the first Filipino to use the pen to advance Philippine freedom. He thus paved the way for Marcelo H. del Pilar, Dr. Jose P. Rizal, Graciano Lopez Jaena, and the other writers of the Philippine Revolution of 1896 who helped recover the Filipino liberty lost in 1571.

http://mb.com.ph/articles/201066/birth-anniversary-francisco-baltazar

Let me share to you my poem...

Mantika

Mantika nga naglanay sa akong nawong
Perti ka-abunda naghalag lang ug kasinaw sa akong agtang ug ilong

Ingon nila ang mantikaon nga nawong dugay mangunot
Pero tungod sa mga bugas ug kasinaw permi lang ko maglagot

Akong nawong nga sinaw pa sa lechon
Akong ampingan arun dili kaayo bugason

Francisco Baltazar produced many poems and songs Mahomet at Constanza, Almanzor y Rosalina, Orosman at Zafira, Don Nuño y Zelinda, La India Elegante y el Negrito Amante, Hatol Hari Kaya (a kundiman), Parangal sa Isang Binibining Ikakasal (a poem), Paalam sa Iyo (a song), Rodolfo at Rosamunda, Pagpupuri Kay Isabel II Reyna sa España, Auredata y Astrone, Nudo Gordiano, Abdol y Miserena, and Clara Belmori. He also wrote a grammatical book El Ensayo de Grammatica Hispano-Tagala. But it was his Florante at Laura that established him as the greatest Filipino literary figure.

Dr. Jose P. Rizal, in a letter to his elder brother Don Paciano Rizal in 1886, acclaimed Francisco Baltazar’s literary greatness and declared that Florante at Laura is a gem in Filipino literature, the one single literary output in Tagalog unmatched in emotional intensity and beauty. Succeeding great Filipino literary figures called Francisco Baltazar “Hari ng Makatang Tagalog” (King of Tagalog Poets) and “El Cisne Filipino” (Poet of Filipino Poets).

Born in Bigaa, Bulacan, on April 2, 1778, Francisco Baltazar mastered the Spanish language at a young age. This enabled him to read many works written in the Spanish language and broadened his consciousness about the oppressive conditions prevailing in the country. He resolved to fight his people’s oppressors and educate his countrymen.

Francisco Baltazar was the first Filipino native literary figure to break free from the restrictive colonial mold. His Florante at Laura blazed a new trail for native writers. He voiced the people’s feelings and sentiments, e.g., “Sa loob at labas ng kaharian kong sawi, kaliluhan ang naghahari” (Evil reigns throughout my unfortunate land). To break free from oppression, he told his countrymen to strengthen themselves. He inserted many native sayings in his masterpiece, e.g., “Ang laki sa layaw karaniwa’y hubad” (Spare the rod, spoil the child).

In Florante at Laura, Francisco Baltazar laid the foundations of a new literary tradition in his country – that literature is also a means to fight evil, that literature should express the people’s sentiments.

Francisco Baltazar died on February 20, 1862. He left many great legacies. He elevated Tagalog as one of the world’s major literary languages. He laid the foundations of our National Language – Pilipino. He was the first Filipino to use the pen to advance Philippine freedom. He thus paved the way for Marcelo H. del Pilar, Dr. Jose P. Rizal, Graciano Lopez Jaena, and the other writers of the Philippine Revolution of 1896 who helped recover the Filipino liberty lost in 1571.

http://mb.com.ph/articles/201066/birth-anniversary-francisco-baltazar

happy birth anniversary prince of philippine poetry!

"My only love sprung form my only hate
Too early seen unknown and known too late...."
--Romeo and Juliet--

"I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore!"
--Twilight--



***
These loathing wants and affectionate hates
What contrasting stirrings grave love creates!
Despising someone for making you fall
A drug addiction with a sickly toll
Your brain concludes a cold diagnosis
With feverish heart drawn to its disease
So disturbed of its inviting power!
Rendering you a helpless, maimed lover
Half well knowing, this long will take to heal
For your mind to soften heart’s stubborn will
On one you hunger, denying to feed
Nourishing titles, you deprive your need
****Be high on love to cure your appetitie!
****Withdrawal symptoms are for love on diet.

God of the universe
Came on earth under curse
Creations' Creator
Born on humble manger

Lost His life on the cross
To recover man's loss
When He rose from the grave,
Rose forever to save

'Tis the season of Lent
A tradition to repent
But repentance seems gone
When the season is done

Became man, Redeemer
To save man- the sinner
His death led grace on earth
To make man heaven' s worth.

"Tuwing ako'y nangangamba,
ay nagwawala.
Napipilitang magpanggap
na ako'y ganap
na tao, isang superhero.
Hindi nasasaktan! Hindi nasasaktan!"
---------Eraserheads----------


"Walang kamag-anak! Walang kumpare!"
-------------------ERAP---------------------


"I....am...sorry...."
------PGMA-------



***
Many faces
For all places
Why not one face?
For any place

Few of the crowd
That shouts not loud
Their acts are proud
Humble endowed

Need not mutate
They just create
Their mirrored state
Of any fate

No need to drape
A spooky cape
To spook escape
Of nights that rape

Need not be strong
With conscience strong-
For right, while wrong-
They shun for long

They are like us
Mouth praise and cuss
With deeds that buzz,
With not much fuss

Of them, few asks
For glory’s masks
Corruption basks
On heroes’ tasks

A true hero,
For sure has no
Alter ego
On public show.

Let's take a pause!
Go see some claws
From his bare paws,
Is his sharp cause.

Guys, this will be the last appeal for the reading invites for the short novel I have finished written. Please PM me and I will provide the links to the novel and to the "OST" I created (compiled tracks) for it. If you want it in higher bitrate, I will also deliver it. For those who requested the initial copy, please tell me how it felt like to read the work. Sorry for flood posting and please take necessary action mods if my posting is unwarranted. Thank You.

Nay
by ME


Nay, ang nagbigay buhay
Mula ng bumukol
Ako sa kanyang tiyan.

Nay, nagtiis sa pagdighay
Hanggang masilayan ko
Ang mukhang may ngiti sa mga labi.

Nay, sa’yong mga braso
Ako’y kinalong mo
At sayong dibdib, ako’y iyong pinasuso.

Nay, sa’king pag-iyak
Ngiti mo’y humalimuyak
Upang pawiin luha ko't pag-iyak.

Nay, ako’y iyong sinipingan
Kasabay ng pag-awit
Ng isang uyayi’ng natatangi.

Nay, sa aking unang yapak
Ako’y iyong inalalayan
Hanggang maging matibay at natutong bumangon.

Nay, salamat sa pagsanay
Ako’y naging matagumpay
Dahil sa pagmamahal at natatangi mong alay.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3436/3393267353_ea21f02df9.jpg?v=0

Nakikibaka
by Jasper (http://www.flickr.com/groups/photo_kalye/discuss/72157615931424845/)

Eskinita, Barong-barong, Tulay, Estero
Bumubuo sa lugar na kinamulatan ko.
Pinagtagpi-tagping lungga aming tirahan,
walang bakanteng sulok na di napakinabangan.

Mangilang beses na ring sinuri ng panahon,
magmula sunog hanggang sa demolisyon.
Ngunit heto't tirik pa rin, patuloy na lumalaban,
kapit-bisig na nakikibaka bawat mamamayan.

Marahil yaong pangalan ay may kinalaman,
sa aming magkadugsong na swerte't kamalasan.
Maaaring tulad din ni Magdalena, lipunan kami'y binato, ipinagkanulo
Ngunit kahawig din niyang di namatayan ng pag-asa sa pagbabago.

Tadhana ma'y pilit kaming himukin,
ginhawa sa buhay ipagkait man sa amin,
walang puwedeng dumurog sa aming pagkatao,
mga taong sama-samang nananahan sa nagkakaisang Sitio.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3451/3397209903_ab1fbd3951.jpg?v=0

Tatlong Dekada
by 8ght

Hanep ang mga katagang pinag-sudlung-sudlong,
upang makakatha, ang kwento'y maisulong.
May kaniig pang larawan, makapangyarihan,
imaheng gigising, may kakawing na istoryang magdidiin.

May pag-asa kaya si magdalena,
kung siya'y 3 dekada ng ginagahasa?
makababangon pa kaya siya?
ngayong madungis at lasug-lasog na?

Binigay ang sarili, buong-buo, libre
Pero kung P1500 ang upa,
sa ispasyong ni katre ay di kasya,
hindi ba Siya'y iwinganis, ginawa na ring puta?

Kung ang kuryente ay libreng pakikikable,
Tubig ay bumabaha't marami
Ba't P1500 ang ibabayad ?
Kung sa Ligo sardinas. ang buhay-tao-espasyo maitutulad.

Makakabangon pa ba si Magdalena?
Mapanghahawakan ba niyang larawan nati'y kanyang pag-asa?
Baka-sakali, bakit hindi?
Baka may makakita, tangis niya'y marinig, may mamulat, may magising.

Baka...
Sana... bukas si Magdalena ay makabangon din.

http://www.mmda.gov.ph/metrogwapologo.jpg


Metro Gwapo
by Wells Avante


Sa overpass ng Philcoa,
Nagkaroon ng mga hita, binti at paa
ang lahat ng nakahimlay na paninda.

May dumungaw sa ibaba,
Dali-daling rumaragasa
ang asul na dambuhala.
Lalamunin ang lahat ng nakasisira
sa natatanaw ng mga mata.
Lahat ng abala sa kalsada’y
biglang mawawala.

Huminto na ang dambuhala,
Lumabas ang kanyang mga alaga.
Naiwang paninda’y nililimas.
Nagkulay bughaw ang buong overpass.

Sa gitna nito’y naiwang cellphone casing ay ibinulsa
ng mumunting batang papasok sa escuela.
Sa ibaba’y naroon ang ibang manininda.
Nagkubli pa sa likod ng pulis ang isa.http://www.mmda.gov.ph/metrogwapologo.jpg

http://www.teachenglishinasia.net/files/u2/white_water_lily_pad.jpg


~The Lily~
by William Blake

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

She is child-like in being wild,
In your forest of confusion
Glimpses of the heart in meows mild
Drunk, she's in controlled abandon

A tigress, she appears to pounce
With feline charm in every ounce
A softness you think you'll posses
That in turn, will own you no less

Don't be fooled by her sheepish eyes
She's a smart fox in disguise
You see her through, although she'll hide
To chase that knowledge, a vain ride

Mazes of her enchanting facts,
Bewitch you always on wrong tracks
Her wilderness swallows her trees
In her shadows, you feel her breeze

Despite bits of disheveled hair,
She's still composed, she still looks fair
As ancient nymphs in haunting tales,
Her magic to lure never fails

Who wouldn't want to be her prey?
Be devoured in a sumptuous way
The fear she strikes will draw you in
Like falling for a black hole's spin

Strong drinks with legions of spirits,
Can barely conquer her fortress wits
That's why she's a beautiful beast,
A tamed predator in a wild feast.


-eon oregon spring-

It's cosmic rapture being romantic,
A cure for a love being fever sick
Having cured that love, this madness will die
Afflict me still for a romantic high!

--eon oregon spring--

Poem For Max
by Sophie


There was a young cat whose delight
Was to follow the moths in their flight.
He entrapped them in nets,
Then admired his pets
As they danced on the ceiling at night

There was a kitty from Racine
Whose botanical interests were keen.
He planted a sock
In a bright window box,
Where it blossomed and sprouted a bean

There was a poor cat on the street,
In the dustbin found tidbits to eat.
Though his hot garbage stew
Smelled exactly like glue
He declared its taste was a treat

There was a cute cat who, in bed
Nightly slumbered with eggs on his head.
When the sun at its rise
Made him open his eyes,
He enjoyed them for breakfast in bed

To Max
by Julie


At night when I lie awake and cry,
And ask God why you had to die,
I get no answer, but can imagine
Our little angel up in heaven
For I believe that God will keep
You safe and sound while you're asleep,
And give you all his love and care
'Til Dad and I can join you there.

Because dear son, I have no qualms
We'll hold you once more in our arms.
Until that time you'll always be
In both our hearts until we're free
To join you in that special place
And see again you lovely face.
Our ray of sunshine , way above.
Good night, God bless Max, with all our love.

http://www.griefhealing.com/images/MaxPoem.jpg
by Katy


When my dog Max died I felt blank inside,
he made me feel good when I had a frown,
but most of all, he was my dog.
I remember when I was little he would always wag his tail
and at night he always slept with me.
Even though my mom didn’t care for that,
and if I could I would,
I’d find him and bring him back today.
I know that I will never actually see him,
but in my dreams I do. My sister says
a dead person or dog will never ever be seen
but in my heart I know that is not true.
My dog meant a lot to me
and even though he’s gone
he will still be in my heart.
My dog is a part of me
just like a parent or a child,
so what was there can never be replaced
no matter how hard we try
or no matter how loud we scream
a part will still be gone
but over the past eleven years we’ve spent
he will be there in my heart
because a dog is an unreplaceable animal,
especially a dog like mine.
Dogs play a very important role
in a girl’s life.
They are always there to warm your feet
or beg you for their favorite treat
but no matter what it is,
they are always there.
I love you, Max!

The Stone
by Wilfred Wilson Gibson


"And will you cut a stone for him,
To set above his head?
And will you cut a stone for him--
A stone for him?" she said.

Three days before, a splintered rock
Had struck her lover dead--
Had struck him in the quarry dead,
Where, careless of a warning call,
He loitered, while the shot was fired--
A lively stripling, brave and tall,
And sure of all his heart desired . . .
A flash, a shock,
A rumbling fall . . .
And, broken 'neath the broken rock,
A lifeless heap, with face of clay,
And still as any stone he lay,
With eyes that saw the end of all.

I went to break the news to her:
And I could hear my own heart beat
With dread of what my lips might say;
But some poor fool had sped before;
And, flinging wide her father's door,
Had blurted out the news to her,
Had struck her lover dead for her,
Had struck the girl's heart dead in her,
Had struck life, lifeless, at a word,
And dropped it at her feet:
Then hurried on his witless way,
Scarce knowing she had heard.

And when I came, she stood alone--
A woman, turned to stone:
And, though no word at all she said,
I knew that all was known.

Because her heart was dead,
She did not sigh nor moan.
His mother wept:
She could not weep.
Her lover slept:
She could not sleep.
Three days, three nights,
She did not stir:
Three days, three nights,
Were one to her,
Who never closed her eyes
From sunset to sunrise,
From dawn to evenfall--
Her tearless, staring eyes,
That, seeing naught, saw all.

The fourth night when I came from work,
I found her at my door.
"And will you cut a stone for him?"
She said: and spoke no more:
But followed me, as I went in,
And sank upon a chair;
And fixed her grey eyes on my face,
With still, unseeing stare.
And, as she waited patiently,
I could not bear to feel
Those still, grey eyes that followed me,
Those eyes that plucked the heart from me,
Those eyes that sucked the breath from me
And curdled the warm blood in me,
Those eyes that cut me to the bone,
And cut my marrow like cold steel.

And so I rose and sought a stone;
And cut it smooth and square:
And, as I worked, she sat and watched,
Beside me, in her chair.
Night after night, by candlelight,
I cut her lover's name:
Night after night, so still and white,
And like a ghost she came;
And sat beside me, in her chair,
And watched with eyes aflame.

She eyed each stroke,
And hardly stirred:
she never spoke
A single word:
And not a sound or murmur broke
The quiet, save the mallet stroke.

With still eyes ever on my hands,
With eyes that seemed to burn my hands,
My wincing, overwearied hands,
She watched, with bloodless lips apart,
And silent, indrawn breath:
And every stroke my chisel cut,
Death cut still deeper in her heart:
The two of us were chiseling,
Together, I and Death.

And when at length my job was done,
And I had laid the mallet by,
As if, at last, her peace were won,
She breathed his name, and, with a sigh,
Passed slowly through the open door:
And never crossed my threshold more.

Next night I laboured late, alone,
To cut her name upon the stone.

Have A Lovely Day
by Seema Chowdhury


Let our visions lead the way
Let us enjoy each new day

let us have some more fun
Before this day is over and done

For there is no limit for us to enjoy
We can have moments of fun and joy

Because life's grass is still pretty green
And there are many things unseen

There are new promises and adventures gathered
Which are waiting to be fulfilled all together

But to enjoy each moment of a lovely day
We must let our vision to lead our way.

He defied earthly gravity,
Of race and nationality
We all still sing his pop music
The language we know and speak.

--eon oregon spring--

My love's preview: Table of Discontent
Fulfillment lies in pouring on its leaves,
Showers and sunshines; autumns and springs spent
With Truths bound hard for whoever believes
Do test my Truths, I'm willing to be read,
Whether on or both new and old ages
On bounded heart will these Truths free the head,
Of all doubts as you go through my pages
Yes, I'm your classic Book of Boundless Love!
For all changing times with all unchanged plots
With earthly twists and motives from above,
Not short-lived paperbacks with wrinkled spots
****Bound to you, unbound from any other
****My love's a book sealed with a hard cover.

--eon oregon spring--

Spring Is Coming
by Risser, Frances Gorman


The bee buzzed to the daisy.
The daisy told the bird.
The bird sang, "Spring is coming.
Spring's coming; have you heard?"

The grass spread out a carpet.
The flowers brought perfume.
The breezes swept and dusted
The earth's big living room.

The clouds hung gauzy curtains.
The sunbeams, bright and gay,
Brushed everything with gold dust
For lovely spring's first day!

Departing from this waiting shed,
We arrived too soon on love's bed
Shedding inhibitions to wait,
Rushing to dusks we thought were late

Time freezes while here standing
Solitude- cold under life's shade
Memories of us keep meeting
In these shadows, the past won't fade

When rains, in heavy volumes dropped,
Love's downpours of promises stopped
Floods arrest the streets with traffic
Please pull over, Days Romantic!

Last summer, along this highway,
We took sizzling trips gone astray
Putting no brakes on raging ride,
Speeding love, a form of suicide

We started from this waiting shed
And couldn't wait, we were misled
The days were torched by sun's hellfire
The sparks of stars lit our desire

Our summer love was in full bloom
A sun-kissed flower spraying perfume
That filled the world with love's fresh air
We breathed a life beyond compare

With much sun though, love will wither
Fit to drown in monsoon shower
That summer fool was hot and proud
Itself consumed, to seasons bowed

These days' moody tempestuous rains,
Couldn't drown the voyage of full moon
Sweet past sailing through present pains
I'm soaked in tears of a sobbing noon

We didn't take needed refuge,
From flaming love's burning deluge
Blinded by the colors of May
Eyes opened when life became grey

Now, June's windy breath away blew,
The calm and sweet breeze we once knew
From still shades of this waiting shed,
A moving love had long since fled.


--eon oregon spring--

There is a time in a your life
that you must make a crucial decision
and the question is,
will it be the right one?


http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2093/1739731523_13e8fff34e.jpg?v=0

The Time Has Come
by Papaleng


My child, as you grow older
And the world is there for the taking
You’ll wake up one day a winner
Because you’d beaten all the odds the world had given.

And those thoughtless years of the past,
Won't matter that much,
Because your a better person than that,
Such stupid things, now you’ve learned how to watch.

God has a greater plan for you
That’s the reason why your here,
He gave you life to live the way He wanted to
Giving you loved ones to hold you dear.

A big loving heart the Lord gave you one
that is bursting with joy inside,
You have so much to offer someone,
Please don't run away and hide.

The time to decide has come
What path you will take,
The wide road or the narrow one
Be careful of what decision to make.

Your future lies before you,
What do you choose to do.
Let it pass by or make it great
My child, the choice is up to you...

Fading
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox


All in the beautiful Autumn weather
One thought lingers with me and stays;
Death and winter are coming together,
Though both are veiled by the amber haze
I look on the forest of royal splendour!
I look on the face in my quiet room;
A face all beautiful, sad and tender,
And both are stamped with the seal of doom.

All through the days of Indian summer,
Minute by minute and hour by hour,
I feel the approach of a dreaded Comer –
A ghastly presence of awful power.
I hear the birds in the early morning,
As they fly from the fields that are turning brown,
And at noon and at night my heart takes warning,
For the maple leaves fall down and down.

The sumac bushes are all a-flaming!
The world is scarlet, and gold, and green,
And my darling’s beautiful cheeks are shaming
The painted bloom of the ball-room queen.
Why talk of winter, amid such glory?
Why speak of death of a thing so fair?
Oh, but the forest king white and hoary
Is weaving a mantle for both to wear.

God! If I could by the soft deceiving
Of forests of splendour and cheeks of bloom
Lull my heart into sweet believing
Just for a moment and drown my gloom;
If I could forget for a second only
And rest from the pain of this awful dread
Of the days that are coming long and lonely
When the Autumn goes and she is dead.

But all the while the sun gilds wood and meadow
And the fair cheeks, hectic glows and cheats,
I know grim death sits veiled in shadow
Weaving for both their winding sheets.
I cannot help, and I cannot save her.
My hands are as weak as a babe’s new-born;
I must yield her up to One who gave her
And wait for the resurrection morn.

http://photos-p.friendster.com/photos/31/19/10749113/1_283050837l.jpg



^^
-a very good person named Sheldon..i made this poem last january of this year..for him.ÜÖ™





Author Sidney

-by me.:banana:

Ye hadst that [S]aintly look
That revealeth not if an angel truly thou wast.
Where thine halo cannot be seen,
Yet feelings proveth [H]elpful in telling if really an angel was thee.

This happened one Friday night,
When he saweth thee cross its sight.
Where thine eyes & thine grinning smile
Makest thee an [E]nchanting sight.

It started thine [L]egendary story.
So [D]evious, 'twas left unexplained
So [O]dd, it ended just like a game
Where he loveth thee, not even knowing thine precious name.

His heart started pounding,
Beating as [N]oisy as a drum beaten.
So loudly, it hurts when he thinketh of thee
Of whom thine name he embedeth in this work he madeth just for thee.

http://pinoycentric.com/wp-content/themes/pinoycentric/images/ding_pc_left-gray.gifA Love Poemhttp://pinoycentric.com/wp-content/themes/pinoycentric/images/ding_pc_right-gray.gif
by Ninoy Aquino


I have fallen in love
with the same woman three times;
In a day spanning 19 years
of tearful joys and joyful tears.

I loved her first when she was young,
enchanting and vibrant, eternally new.
She was brilliant, fragrant,
and cool as the morning dew.

I fell in love with her the second time;
when first she bore her child and mine
always by my side, the source of my strength,
helping to turn the tide.

But there were candles to burn
the world was my concern;
while our home was her domain.
and the people were mine
while the children were hers to maintain;

So it was in those eighteen years and a day.
’till I was detained; forced in prison to stay.

Suddenly she’s our sole support;
source of comfort,
our wellspring of Hope.
on her shoulders felt the burden of Life.

I fell in love again,
with the same woman the third time.
Looming from the battle,
her courage will never fade

Amidst the hardships she has remained,
undaunted and unafraid.
she is calm and composed,
she is God’s lovely maid.

Dama Sa Balat
by ME


Dama sa balat ang init ng hangin
Habang isang liwanag ang lumamon sa amin

Dama sa balat ang lakas ng hangin
Habang isang dagundong ang pumukaw sa amin

Dama sa balat ang ingay ng kayakas
Habang iwinawasiwas ang bagsik ng pagaspas

Dama sa balat ang alingasaw ng singaw
Habang patuloy na sumisigaw ang lahat sa Araw.

Hango Sa Hinangong Hilagang Dako
by ME


Ito’y hango sa hinangong hilagang dako
Ang bawat sibat at sabat at kasabwat,
Sila’y nagkalata’y sa pagkakaratay ng mga patay
Rumagasa ang mga dalubhasa upang alamin ang hiwaga
Hiwagang nababalot ng hibla sa kahoy ko nakita.
Ipupukol ko sana ang dapat bumukol sa dulo ng kubol
Ngunit nagsipag-ayuda ang mga byuda habang lahat ay nagdududa
Sino ba ang taong itong nanglilimahid?
Bakit ka nangungusap ng mga usaping walang bahid?
Ulan man ay dumagsa titila rin ang daragsa.
Naparito ako ngunit paroroon ang nasa dako pa roon!
Tila baga may poon sa dakong iyon!
Ang kapirasong anino na pilit nilang ikinukubli
Sa isdang bakuli sila nabibili.
Pulot ng pokyutan ang minatamis na kamatis
Ito ang hinango sa hila-hilang kamagong.

Tulang May Kalaliman
by ME


Tulang may kalaliman
Hindi masisid ninuman
Nagsasaad ng mga salitang
Hindi masilip ng kaisipan.

Tulang may kahabaan
Hindi matapos kailan man
Pilit na pinapatag
Upang makita ang daraanan.

Tulang may kahulugan
Puno nang makahulugang kasabihan
Siksik sa kaalaman
Hindi matarok ang karunungan.

Tulang may kalungkutan
Sagot sa sugatang kariktan
Makikirit na talinghaga
Pumapaloob sa dakilang hiwaga.

Tulang may pabatid
Dala’y tulong pangtawid
Sa mga mananawid
Isang tulay ang hatid.

Tulang may katapusan
Dulot ay pighating lubusan
Hindi mabilang na kabuluhan
Naging abuloy sa luhaan.

Damdamin
By ME

Animo’y kalamidad ang sumambulat
Nang ang galit mo’y iyong isiwalat
Kasing lakas ng bagyo
Nang ibuhos ang niloloob mo
Wari mo’y ipu-ipo
Mga hagupit ng salita mo
Ultimo’y bulkang nagngingitngit
Nang ikaw’y magalit mula sa langit

Parang nasalanta ng trahedya
Ang bawat titig ng iyong mata
Lumalatay sa mga patay
Ang galit na’yong tinataglay

Maka-ilang ulit pa kaya
Ang lupit ng iyong diwa?
Maka-ilang ulit pa kaya
Ang pagbaha ng mga luha?
Maka-ilang ulit pa kaya
Ang kailangang iiyak
Upang ako’y iyong ilingap?
Maka-ilang ulit pa kaya
Ang aking pagdadalamhati?
Upang itong pighati’y
Hindi na muli maghari

Anatomy of a Call Center Agent
by a Former Call Boy Agent

As if to spite me last night
My mind was all alight, saying:
“Of all the things you know
What makes a call center agent so?”

I thought until dawn, hard and long
Of what I knew and what I felt
And finally it came to me-
Let me share the anatomy:

Nimble hands and faster fingers
Which upon cigarette butts linger
A honeyed tongue, a way with words
Your arguments easily reversed

And don’t forget the selective ear
Deaf to curses but heighted to gossip
An appetite for coffee and beer
Though breakfast and dinner often skipped

Sleep is often something foreign
A luxury, treasure long forgotten
And to compensate for lack of dreams
Internet, Videoke and Starbuck’s cream

Some are fond of sailing other streams
An itch that goes beneath the skin
In this case, like attracts like
Vampire couples enjoy the night

And onto the most important part
The call center agent’s heart -
A calloused thing, with many scars
(For loneliness leaves it marred)

Deep inside – a single desire
That keeps it beating every night:
A better life for the family
Is worth any devil’s price!

Tulong (Ang Tula Ko’y Bugtong) Ugnayan
by Dodie


Simple kong ginawa
ang mga salita,
Ang pantig at tugma
sa tunog ay tama.
Hindi tulad nuon
maigsi ang dugtong,
Sa Tula kong Bugtong
ano’ng iyong tugon.

Sagot:

Nuon ay papel lang
na aking laruan,
Ngayo’y totohanan
pabalik kay mahal.
Pirmi sa upuan
parang nakalutang,
Sa langit tumanaw
sa lupa maghintay.

Sagot:

Isa lang ang buhay
nag-aanak naman,
Sa kinatayuan
duon mamatay.
Kaydaming pangalan
may hiwaga rin daw,
Puso’y nahihimay
masarap na ulam.

Sagot:

Paboritong ka’nin
hirap ng lunukin’
Tunay ba’ng sabihin
na may kasama rin.
Sa Jollibe’y chicken
sa Mcdo’y hamburger,
Ang aking si Muning
baka nasa Chowking.

Sagot:

Kung nagkamali ka
‘wag ng umulit pa,
Iwas sa disgrasya
ingat sa kalsada.
Ipakita mo na
baka magalit pa,
Dapat ay kasama
saan man magpunta.

Sagot:

Kung tawagin ako
hindi pangalan ko,
Wala ng reklamo
kasi ay totoo.
Ang ibang ganito
sunod lang sa uso,
May iwas sa kuto
marami ay lolo.

Sagot:

Sa tula at awit
damdamin ay batid,
Walang maririnig
sa aking daigdig.
Sa iyong panigin
may buhay na hatid,
Ang puso at isip
na aking inukit.

Sagot:

Sino’ng ikalawa
nauna ay Byuda,
Ang ama’y dati na
at katulad Siya.
Ginoo na Una
mahal na asawa,
Tulad ay ligaya
ang pangalan niya

Sagot:

Dahil daw kaymahal
kung kaya’t matibay,
May hindi nagtagal
di naghihiwalay.
Maging kaninuman
sadyang kapalaran,
Mahirap mayaman
ay tinatapakan.

Sagot:

Umaga’y sa silangan
ang sikat ng araw,
Lumulubog naman
hapon sa kanluran.
Sa gabi ang ilaw
liwanag ng buwan,
Bigay na tahanan
sa sangkatauhan.

Kaibigan,

Sa iyong pagbigkas
Tula kong sinulat,
Wala ma’ng pamagat
may sagot ka dapat.

http://images.inquirer.net/media/showbizandstyle/lifestyle/lifestyle/images/pic-07130257000647.jpg

http://images.inquirer.net/media/showbizandstyle/lifestyle/lifestyle/images/pic-07130304520822.jpg

By Oscar Campomanes (http://showbizandstyle.inquirer.net/lifestyle/lifestyle/view/20090712-215096/Lost-Dragonfly-Tradition-and-translation)
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 18:39:00 07/12/2009

Filed Under: Arts and Culture and Entertainment, Poetry


MANILA, Philippines – “The process of cultural translation,” says eminent anthropologist Talal Asad, “is inevitably enmeshed in conditions of power.”

Cultural critic Rey Chow chimes in that one form of power involved in the translation of anything—from culture through all its expressive forms and texts/objects—is locatable in the etymological link of translation with tradition.

“How,” Chow asks, “is tradition to be transmitted, to be passed on, if not through translation?”

“Las Rimas,” a group exhibition of 10 emergent artists (nine from UP, one from Ateneo), which opened at Asia Art Gallery Megamall on June 24 and is now nearly sold out, generally “wishes,” according to its youthful curator Geronimo Cristobal Jr., “for the interested viewer to appreciate heritage and culture in their many forms and faces.”

Cristobal says the exhibition is designed to help transmit a certain tradition, “along with its historical baggage,” to a new generation.

Forgotten work

Serving as inspiration for the “Las Rimas” project is a little-known lyric poem, “Las Rimas,” by the Filipino-Hispanic poet Flavio Zaragoza Cano.

“Las Rimas” (the poem) is one part that signifies the whole of Cano’s forgotten oeuvre, just as Cano himself is understood, in Cristobal’s context, as one part that is made to stand for the whole of the Filipino-Hispanic literary tradition.

The tragic fortunes of this part of Philippine literary heritage, under the relentless onslaught of the Yankees’ culture following American colonization, we know only so well, thanks to the late Nick Joaquin who wrote what were probably the most elegiac critiques of this tectonic cultural displacement and its most poignant obituaries.

Cano’s work came to the attention of Cristobal while conducting independent research on Filipino Hispanismo and the Ilustrado legacy in their ephemeral flowering and extended obsolescence during the American colonial period.

He stumbled upon an English-language translation of “Las Rimas” from the Spanish original by L.C. Brilliantes and reportedly commissioned by the Ayalas (Zaragoza Cano won the Premio Zobel for Spanish poetry in 1929).

Thus began Cristobal’s quest to think hard about translation and what he found out later, on more research, as its etymological and powerful relationship to the transmission of tradition.

More specifically, given his Malikhaing Panulat (Creative Writing) major, his art-curatorial studies and his art practice at UP, he started to explore the possibility, with fellow Artists’ Circle members at the UP College of Fine Arts and using Cano’s poem as inspiration and pretext, of a collaborative project in “formal and cultural translation.”

What he wanted to happen was a process and a project by which visual art practice could be recruited to the service of a dramatic reenactment of his own original experience of rediscovering forgotten tradition (such as what Cano stood for) via the agency of translation/s, along with meditations on the creative and critical dimensions of artmaking and art appreciation that such a process would entail.

As he put it in one of several concept papers he drafted for interested collaborators: “How do we translate literature into paintings? And, second, how do we translate literature in Spanish into paintings?”

‘Multiform’

In actual output, Las Rimas turned out to be, in Cristobal’s resonant word from his curatorial notes, “multiform.”

The project became much more than a translation from poem (“Las Rimas”) into painting, as the completed and exhibited works now include—apart from unusual and singular mixed-media and experimental “paintings” by Cristobal himself and participating artists Francis Commeyne, Francis Bejar, Lex Marcos, Clarence Alvear, Paul Acena and Caroline Ongpin (the lone female contributor)—Ryan Tizon’s haunting black-and-white photographs in glass encasements; glossy sculptures in cast marble by Kylo Chua (of Ateneo); and rough-edged moldings, in stained polyresin on epoxied wooden base, by Manolo Sicat (recently hired faculty member of UP Baguio’s Diploma in Fine Arts Program).

Painting here is framed by quote marks, given Cristobal’s guidelines, which include the injunction, according to Caroline Ongpin, that “the body of works should look somewhat unfinished and more sketchy.”

Strikingly, painter Francis Commeyne, who is fluent in Spanish, says his participation accorded well with his own aesthetic creed: “As an artist, I combine different media, and in my work I use unorthodox grounds (rice sacks, metal sheet, a chair, a mirror) as I feel that it is necessary to deviate from the traditional oil paint on canvas, or in this case, solely one medium, like watercolor on paper.”

As he recognized from the beginning, “the goal of the show was to capture the process—the raw, sketch-like effects, trial-and-error experiments, associated with the translation of words into images, Spanish text into visual.”

Dark florals

Ongpin’s account of her decision to be mock-literal with one contribution, only to be literary in a visual (or what French philosopher of art Jacques Rancière would call “mediumistic”) way with the finished product, is quite telling.

Noting the preponderance of floral figures in the verbal imagery of Cano’s poem, Ongpin says that for the piece “Fragrant Memories” she “chose to use flowers, specifically violets.... but instead of making them colorful or vivid,” as would be stereotypically expected of a female artist, “reduced the colors so that the piece would not look too romantic.”

She based the piece on stanza 2: “[Rhymes] are aromas enclosed in a poet’s soul/in the dreaming soul/that fly after sweet dreams in the air/that perfume the hair of a seductive virgin/with the fragrance of violets...”

But Ongpin felt that while the speaker seemed “so in love with this woman that he felt and saw her presence in everything around him, even in his dreams,” a darker side to all that romance emerges on several rereadings: obsession. Hence her decision to make the piece look darker.

Loneliness, agony

Similarly, Commeyne chose, for his piece “Lost Dragonfly,” to focus on stanza 3, where the persona’s soul now chases, in an orchard of roses, “a bewitching idea (una imagen hechicera)” which is that of a “lost dragonfly (libélula perdida)” escaping into “vague and misty horizons (las vargas y brumosas lontananzas).”

The contrast in poetry between verbal structure and “a sense of movement through word-choice and imagery,” which this stanza exemplifies for him with its dynamic mise en scène, was what made him juxtapose “structured, straight and rigid lines/brushstrokes” with the “wild washes, stains, and biomorphic forms” in the strategically vivisected spaces of his composition.

While the poem teems with “beauty, overwhelming splendor and positive imagery,” Commeyne says he “still felt a sense of loneliness, agony, and feeling lost—much like the image of a lost dragonfly in the orchard.”

Sculptor Kylo Chua, meanwhile, says: “I believe man is most beautiful when he is lost.”
Asked what he would like viewers to come away with from inspecting his smoothly marbled images for “Las Rimas,” Chua declares: “I want them to enjoy getting lost!”

Perfect metaphor

Lost dragonfly (“getting lost”) is a perfect metaphor for the evanescent legacy of Cano to which these artists now pay creative and critical tribute with such rigorously conceived and deeply engaged artmaking.

As all the “Las Rimas” artists eloquently suggest with their works, Cano can even begin to be restored to Philippine tradition as pretext and predecessor.

“Finding meaning is like unlocking or digging; you get confused and distracted; you get your hands dirty,” says Cristobal. “While doing ‘Libélula Perdida,’ I was attracted to the dirt produced by pencil shavings and the oil on my hands. I noticed that words give out meaning in the same way: They are constructed, and that surprises concerning, and new ways of seeing and hearing and understanding, such meaning emerge all the time.”

A longer version of this essay examining the theory of cultural politics, signification, and art informing the “Las Rimas” project, with specific illustrations from the completed works and in the context of Jacques Rancière’s philosophy, will appear in a forthcoming anthology of Philippine art criticism.

E-mail the author at ocampomanes@ateneo.edu or the curator Geronimo Cristobal Jr. at juncristobal@gmail.com.

From Eminem, one of the greatest poets of the 90s:


I take a couple uppers
I down a couple downers
But nothing compares
To these blue and yellow purple pills
I been to mushroom mountain
Once or twice but who's countin'
But nothing compares
To these blue and yellow purple pills


Cool, calm, just like my mom
With a couple of valium inside her palm

The rest is a bit rude for SSC. Alliteration, assonance, enjambement, rhymes, you name it, he's got it!

Broken Glass
by Darryl R. Gray


A revelation,
found in the contemplation of meditation,
birthed from the Mind of another,
who perhaps is: all in my mind.
Then again, stepping out of Time,
perhaps the Mind is mine.
What really is the sound made,
when an object composed of glass breaks?
Or maybe perhaps I can expand this mental span,
and ask: “what is glass but sand,
and what is sand, but Man?
”Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
a momentary Reign on the Material Plane,
but the body’s return to the Earth is a must.
On items of glass we place a series of words that state:
“fragile, handle with care”.
Why not that same statement be made about the way we treat each other?
This is the question I dare to make.
Broken glass or shattered man?
A sound too profound to perceive with the ear.
And me, well,
the integrity of my vessel remains cracked many times and in many ways.
My body, my glass, bearing the scars of endless nights and even longer days.
So, I ask again: “What does it sound like when glass breaks”?
War, Peace, Love, Hate, Life, Death?
An Infinity of dichotomies.
Laughter, Crying, Screams, to Sighs
Shattering Glass !!!
One Universe dies, another One, comes Alive.

A LA RAZA HISPANA

Por Flavio Zaragoza Cano

Octubre 7, 1933
Ciudad de Yloilo
Isla de Panay
Filipinas

1.

Noble raza inmortal, raza divina
que hablas el dulce idioma de Castilla,
triste y altiva, mi alma filipina
ante tu altar sagrado se arrodilla.

Amo a mi Patria, mas el sacro rayo
de mi amor puro no es para ella sola:
que si como patriota soy malayo,
¡como poeta, ¡mi alma es española!

Y lo proclamo así sin cobardía;
amo a España que me dio cultura;
la gratitud es flor del alma mía,
y mi alma no es ingrata ni es impura.

Mi amor a España, Dios ha bendecido
y no es traición para mi propia tierra;
porque en mi corazón que odia el olvido,
si es noble y santo, todo amor se encierra.

2.

Hoy que muchos claudican, yo te canto
gran raza hispana, tu renombre eterno
vive en mi lira, en medio del quebranto
con que sufrimos el dogal moderno.

Si todos ya olvidaron el aroma
de tu seno prolífico y fecundo,
aun quedo yo, soldado de tu idioma,
para cantar tus glorias en el mundo.

No soy de ese linaje de chacales
que, nacidos de párramos incultos,
al recibir tus besos maternales
tu dulce amor pagaron con insultos.

Los que ayer te ensalzaron hoy te olvidan,
¡corifeos del nuevo coloniaje!
mientras extrañas águilas anidan
en el bello jardín de tu lenguaje.

3.

Noble raza que sufres con grandeza
las épicas tragedias del presente,
yo te amo y respeto la tristeza
que brilla en las arrugas de tu frente.

Y si ayer, contra ti, tenido hubiera
que ir a la lucha por la patria mía,
nunca hubiese manchado tu bandera,
y en medio de mis triunfos ¡te amaría!

De tu amor maternal la firme esencia
no olvidará la tierra panayana,
que al gritar "libertad" e "independnecia",
¡siempre hablamos la lengua castellana!

Cuando te olviden todos, mi alma fuerte
pregonará tu honor de polo a polo.
Yo hablaré tu lenguaje hasta la muerte.
Si nadie te ama ya, ¡te amaré sólo!

EL IDIOMA ESPAÑOL

Por Flavio Zaragoza Cano

¡Sabios vates é hijos todos de mi pueblo idolatrado!
Olvidemos este día las penas de nuestro estado
y ofrezcamos nuestras almas a la ibérica nación.
Nuestros cánticos resuenen por las célicas regiones;
se confundan abrazados nuestros nobles corazones
y de júbilo palpiten como un solo corazón:
En honor de la grandeza de una raza de gigantes,
de Pelayo, Hermenagildo, Magallanes y Cervantes
que embellecen con sus lauros el hispano pabellón;
de esa raza creadora cuyo genio sin segundo
encurvó los meridianos, descubriendo el Nuevo Mundo
con la hipótesis profunda del geógrafo Colón...

Tierra noble de los mártires de Bailen y de Numancia,
respetada por las águilas napoleónicas de francia
y temida en Covadonga por el burdo musulmán,
que a la sombra, de oro y gualda, de su enseña victoriosa,
en Lepanto y en Otumba, San Marcial y Zaragoza,
ha mostrado que sus hijos tienen alma de titán,
rudos músculos de atleta y son héroes bizarros,
herederos de la sangre de los Cides y Pizarros,
los Felipes, Carlos Quintos, los Legaspis y Cortés
cuyas mágicas espadas desgarraron mil trofeos
y llevaron sus banderas más alla de sus deseos
y tuvieron al planeta por peana de piés.....
Es sínfónico su idioma, de riquezas, soberana,
copia el ritmo de las liras multicordes de Quintana,
el poeta de altos vuelos, el cantor del trafalgar,
de Espronceda, De la Rosa, Jovellanos y Zorrilla,
pregoneros de las glorias de La Alhambra y de Castilla,
que supieron de su tierra las grandezas ensalzar.

Es relámpago en los labios de sus bravos oradores,
Enseñanza en el cerébro de sus sabios pensadores,
luz de auroras en las cátedras y en los templos oración:
Es idioma del espíritu por los ángeles escrito
que interpreta los misterios de lo abstracto y lo infinito
y traduce las bellezas de la santa inspiración...!

En las cántigas de Becquer melancólico suspira,
apostrofa con denuedo de Nuñez de Arce, en la lira;
En el sistro filosofa del genial Campoamor.
Con Francisco de quevedo se reviste de agudezas
por destruir corazones impregnados de vilezas,
como un dardo que se clava venenoso y punzador.
En el púlpito retumba con el verbo de Granada
y en las cámaras políticas refulge como una espada
con los párrafos sonoros del insigne Castelar,
cuando viera profanados en poder de los Borbones,
de la efímera República de Septiembre, los pendones
que adornaron fugazmente el ibérico solar!

Es idioma que no pierde sus bellezas, mientas brota
de las lamas el ensueño, mientras brillen del Quijote
los tesoros metafóricos y figuras de dicción,
mientras haya sinfonías en las cuerdas inspiradas
de la cítara de rueda que simula en sus baladas
del temblante Manzanares, la melódica canción...

Y resuena la elegancia de sus métricas sonoras
en las hojas dle "Tenorio", "Diablo Mundo", las "Doloras"
en las coplas y cnatares del ingenio poular.
En la mística "Cristiada", la patriótica "Araucana",
"Pequeñeces", "Galatea" y Gil Blás de Santillana:
¡Frutos de oro de la mente de una raza intelectual!

Es el ritmo inimitable del idioma castellano
ha brotado misterioso del Atlántico oceáno,
cuando riman sus poemas los ciclones al rugir,
de las ondas rumorosas de las mares españolas
donde algres pescadores canta tiernas barcarolas
O en las márgenes del Ebro y del Real guadalquivir;
ha emanado de los élitros de recónditas cigarras,
bajo el grato y refrescante cielo rao de las parras
saturadas de verdura, de perfumes y de luz.
Y ha nacido de la ardiente travesra de las 'jotas'
que vihuelas y bandurrias acompañan con sus notas,
o de terzos 'soleares, de algún patio andaluz.

En las alas celestiales de la diosa Poesía
ha salvado las fronteras la vibrante melodía
del idioma de Castilla, más allá de Gibraltar;
derramando sus arpegios en la América Latina
co los aires modernistas de la dulce 'Sonatina'
del genial rubén Darío, el del léxico sin par;
con la Atlántida gloriosa, decorada con las rimas
bellas y épicas de Andrade que ha bajado de las cimas
a mojar del Río Plata su cerébro en el raudal...
Y ginete sobre el lomo poderoso de un pegaso,
se remonta a las alturas del gigante Chimborazo
¡donde fule deslumbrante la alborada sideral!

La sublime gnetileza del lenguaje catellano
ha empapado las estrofas de Andres Bello, de Chocano,
Vargas Vila, Avellaneda, Catellanos y Escobar;
A maneras de caricias y suspiros de terneza,
se perciben sus dulzuras en los metros de Dios Peza
el cantor de las delicias de la patria y del hogar;
en los cnatos quejumbrosos y románticos de Acuña,
que una lira d esonidos melancólicos empuña,
entonando su 'Nocturno' a la ingrata de su amor...
Y serán siempre perenes las riquezas de ese idioma
mientras cnate colibríes y en lso campos haya aroma,
en los cármenes conciertos, mariposas en la flor...


Los ingenios y los vates del terruño filipino,
aun remojan en las fuentes del idioma cervantino
los cordajes armonisoos de rítmico laud.
Riman líricas estrofos a los rayos de la luna
que, en las márgenes del Agno y de Bay en la Laguna,
embellecen de los árboles la selvática quietud.
Nuestros sabios oradores, dignos nietos de Jaena,
hoy procuran con la idea sacudri nuestra cadena
y hata el grito que pronuncia la malaya juventud
es un grito castellano cuando dice en sus cantares:
"¡Corazones invencibles, defendamos nuestros lares
contra el yugo vergonzoso de la nueva esclavitud!"..

En la obra 'Noli me Tángere' donde lucen y palpitan
loos conceptos del ilustre desterrado de Dapítan,
en las págians qu enseñan la justicia y la verdad,
se reviven las bellezas del ibérico lenguaje
saturadas de tristezas y satírico coraje,
de lamento en los exilios por querer la libertad.
Y rebraman en los graves hemistiquiso de "Mi raza"
como un ábrego que ruje y a los párramos arrasa,
proclamando en sus estrofas el orgullo nacional.
En el númen de Guerrero se estremece con ternura,
en los cánticos de Apóstol reprecute con bravura...
¡Precursores del ingenio de los hijos de Rizal!

Y mientras enriquezcamos nuestros múltiples dialectos
procurando que sus términos sean ricos y perfectos
para ser fieles intérpretes de nuesta alta inspiración,
no olvidemos el idioma de las musas granadinas,
de los bardos españoles cuyas tiernas mandolinas
enzalzaran las bellezas de su amada y su nación.
Consrvemos en las almas su armonía placnetera,
y en el triángulo estrellado de nuestra única bandera,
bajo la orla esplendorosa que destella nuestro sol,
cuando robe nuestra herencia la avaricia del tirano,
escribamos nuestras cóleras en idioma castellano;
escribamos nuestros gritos de portesta en español!

Pueblo triste que suspiras al rumor de tu guitarra
tus amargas elegías y el dolor que te desgarra,
contemplano en le presente tu inseguro povenir,
haz que España siempre via respetada en tu memoria,
que el tesoro de su idioma y los lauros de su gloria,
en los pliegues de tu mente nunca lleguen a morir;
porque fue en tiempos pretéritos ¡una madre noble y buena!

Y si Filipinas arrastró alguna cadena, fue por obra de tiranos
de malvado corazón, solo fueron opresores los traidores a sus Reyes;
por sí mismas son humanas sus doctrinas y sus leyes;
¡por si misma es benignísima, del Rey Sabio, la Nación!

Dilang Walang Wika
by ME


Aanhin ko ang halabas,
Kung ang damo’y hindi matataas?
May silbi ba ang paliwanag,
Sa sulat na di maaninag?
Kung ang letra ay may petsa,
Masasabi mo ba ito nang diretsa?
Pagdating sa wika,
May pananagutan ba ang makata?
Paano na ang titik na walang pintig,
Na syang kumakalabit sa bawat patinig?
Bakit may patinig,
Gayong kinakatigan nya’y katinig?
May taludtod ba ang talata,
O makikita lamang ito sa tula?
Ano ang salaysay,
Kung ito’y wala nang saysay?
Saan ko makikita ang diwa,
Kung ang wika ay di kilala ng dila?

(concept borrowed from an ancient Hindi poem)

Under the plethora of shimmering light
of this Milky Way,
its uncountable winking stars
stare down with blinking constancy
upon the tempests of change.
The written and unwritten story of man

The starry lights,
forever in speeds that stilled time;
its grandeur, in simple elegance captured
in Einstein’s balanced numeric expression: E=mc¬2.
The firmness of love knows no time
and distance.

It knows no changing temperaments
of seasons and places.
It alone knows the eternally frozen snapshot
of the fairest of weathers
being basked,
by you in temperate pleasantry.

Love’s eyes pierce constantly
with a speed of light
mocking immeasurable spaces and galactic time
with an unchanged age.
I see you through;
our spirits, fused and one.
Whenever. Wherever.

If in doubt, whether to cross oceans
or stay in your paradise island,
tread with a sweet meditation;
along the path of doubt-between land and ocean-
along the shores of pristine sands.
Capture serene but resolved thoughts.

Hello Longing!
Do keep me company!
Greetings Parting!
Gone is my company.

As you walk on the soft innumerable
sands on the side of the sea
contemplating
with the depths of that body of water
somewhere yonder.
Thoughts more disturbed
than the waves that taunt the shore:

Take a lucid moment
to sit down;
with bare hands, gather sands.
Uncountable sands with definite numbers.
Mold two little shapes
of you and me.
Smash those figures!
Mix them together.
Then part them in half.

Throw one half to the sea.
Huge and distant will the sea disperse our forms.
Sprinkle the other half on the sides of waters.
Far and wide,
spread our certainty along the shores of doubt.

In those countless sands
of a scattered you,
there will forever be countless bits of me.
And in those countless sands
of a shattered me,
there are eternal parts of you.

In the divides of waters
and through fragments of the earth-
we are one.

No distance. No time. No one
can keep us from the substance of the other.
In countless ways as the stars above
and the sands beneath;
and as transcending as the oceans- our love is.


eon oregon spring

Bashful shades gulped by shameless sun’s thirst
The dryness of land turns for the worst
Branches stretch no more to spread the breeze
All that grows are nostalgia for trees

Coastal talls swallowed by giant waves
Giving birth to countless onsite graves
Once dwelled by yearly cycles of blooms
Now solar withered with floods of glooms

This is scientific prophesy
Apocalypse of reality
Whose skyscraper tides we can reverse
The high rise crystals mirror the curse

In the glittering name of progress,
We create rusts of steeled wilderness
Making foreign our abodes of greens
Dwelling on lavishly, man-made scenes

Becoming mere postcards are our farms
With all their innocent, rustic charms
Draped in glamour, countless are defiled
In civil clothes, cities can be wild

The idyllic freshness of a village
Where life stays young with passing of age
The green-clad playmate of yesteryears
Today’s childhood chums are stainless gears

Floods of urban tsunami of smoke,
Floating to drown health, our poor lungs choke
Could development tangibly thrive?
Growth lives; Balanced Progress- more alive

Gluttonous, urban society
Overeating all and still hungry
Small wonder you have a fat belly
You have all life’s pills but still sickly

Mushrooming asphalt, jagged peaks sprout
With deep foundations of wealth and clout
Chopping off slopes of the earth’s smooth crests
A run down soil where a landslide rests

Trapped with the shroud of fumes and exhaust,
Are the peeling heat and biting frost
Above the shadows are neon words,
Where trees once perch the chirping of birds

All day long, there are bleating of cars
Unruly herds stuck in fast-paced wars
Lost in webs of growing urban maze
Grasses are fading on which they graze

Where is the road from the now and here?
When rains don’t flood and the skies are clear
With cemented ways of urban choice,
The answer is drowned by a crane’s noise.


--eon oregon spring--

^^nice poems eonynx:okay: hope to see more of your poems;)

Kalumpit
by ME

Sa punong kalumpit
Damit ko’y nasabit
Nang ako’y sumabit
Sa jeepning pa-Calumpit.

O kay lupit ng kapalaran
Damit ko’y nasayang
Sa aking pupuntahan
Ako’y nahubaran.

Bandila
by ME


Ang bandila –
Isang simbolo na yari sa kapirasong tela;
Ibinabandila sa oras ng pakikipaglaban;
Iwinawagayway sa oras ng kalayaan;
Iginagalang sa tawag ng palakasan.

Ang bandila –
Watawat ng pagkakaisa;
Nagbigay pag-asa sa panahon ng giyera;
Namayani sa puso ng mga magigiting na bayani;
Ipinaglaban kahit buhay ang kabayaran.

Ang bandila –
Dugo’t pawis ang naging puhunan;
Hinibla sa panahon ng pagsasarili;
Tinahi sa gitna ng digmaan;
Namayagpag sa bawat sagupaan;
Itinaas nang may kasarinlan.

^^nice poems eonynx:okay: hope to see more of your poems;)

salamat!:D

We made timeless tracks in the C.D.
Of our album in my memory
The only ballads I know today
Could we once more make the music play?

Our hearts together wrote soulful tunes,
My poor longing rewinds still and croons
Can we play back the songs of the past?
And hit the notes that would make us last

Or we could create a new album
Of joint pains and joys sung with aplomb
This will not be a sophomore jinx
If we can settle all those past kinks

They say love has better performance
If it can stage that one second chance
Let’s try some demos with no fillers
Record a love of life’s chart toppers

These days, I play our songs all alone
Likewise, their copyright is your own
I won't sing with someone just to pirate,
The real love we did once create.


--eon oregon spring--

Aawitan Kita
by ME


Aawitan kita
Ng mga musikang kahalihalina.
Pakinggan mo sana
Itong alay kong musika.
Damhin at namnamin
Ipinahihiwatig ng puso ko sinta.
Bawat mensahe’y may tugma
Upang ipahayag ang pangungulila.
Dalang tunog ay dagundong
Tulad ng pusong nakakulong.
At sa’yong pakikinig
Nawa’y marinig
Itong awit ng pag-ibig
Dala ay himig
Upang pusoy muling umibig.

Basura
by ME


Tinatapaktapakan!
Yan ang panaghoy ng isang basahan.

Sinisipasipa!
Sigaw ng lata sa bawat yuping dala ng mga paa.

Isinasangat!
Daing ng pambalot na hugis kulangot.

Inihahagis!
Panawagan ng lamping nabaon sa ilog na tila-langis.

Isinasabit!
Nasambit na salita mula sa plastik na nakasampit.

Iniiwanan!
Yan ang papel matapos ipang-iwang!

Vanity is written loquaciously
The heart is silenced for long to edit
And pen this skin-deep life eloquently
To simple wisdom and practical wit
O were this taste truly is elegant,
It would posses the verse of contentment!
Not ink a pact of glamour that is blank
Of resident joys with pleasures for rent
These proud lines of a whited sepulcher,
Etched in a face of superfluous visage
With sprouting short blooms of a pretender,
Its petals of pledges fade with young age
****This pricey life of storied empty worth
****Has scripted heavens authored by cursed earth.

Life is a calendar of all seasons:
Success and failure make dates with us all
Climates can seal trust, weathers plot treasons
To short-term chances, can long-term plans fall
Despite the foresight of a scientist,
Some well-thought guesses have insane outcomes
And journey on with the faith of a priest
To reach one’s heaven on earthly kingdoms
Aware of the coming of a dark cloud
Certain are life’s storms, there are roofs to hide
The wise and the meek, but sadly the proud
Steers fate to the waves where all proud sails died
****For all the flawless plans of ants and men,
****Misfortune parts no one under heaven.

--eon oregon spring--

Philippine Poetry

sana mga tagalog para unique, kahit saan naman ang dami ng english poem

^^well, it's nice to have tagalog poems here but not all people can and choose to write in it. on the other hand, we do have lots of tagalog entries here.

please be aware that not all people choose to write in tagalog.

ironically, if we are to follow that logic, then we might as well also include with equal footing, the cebuano, ilokano, ilonggo and other major philippine languages here because all of these tongues constitute what is philippine poetry. there are posts here that are in fact, already of those languages.

^^well, it's nice to have tagalog poems here but not all people can and choose to write in it. on the other hand, we do have lots of tagalog entries here.

please be aware that not all people choose to write in tagalog.

ironically, if we are to follow that logic, then we might as well also include with equal footing, the cebuano, ilokano, ilonggo and other major philippine languages here because all of these tongues constitute what is philippine poetry. there are posts here that are in fact, already of those languages.

Hahaha. Good point, and well put.:)

^^which brings to mind, why don't you post your cebuano poems here?:) and if you have the time and patience, their corresponding english translations.

EDSA’s infant liberty nursed with grace
By a proud widow with a humble face
And through travails, nurtured the baby crawls
And steps of freedom with its childish falls
Throughout years and decades of troubled fears,
Her resolve remained admirably fierce
That this child she once ruled shall finely grow,
For all unruly conducts he would show
This weathered child is now a young adult,
With some infantile fits that still won’t halt
The life and times of Cory will still guide;
Democracy lives although she had died
****Our modern freedom’s mother and icon,
****Her children’s triumphs, for them she had won.

--eon oregon spring--

A Prayer Request
by Mary Lorelei Aquino (http://1millionprayers.wordpress.com/2009/07/16/poem-for-cory-posted-at-facebook-cory-aquino-request-for-prayers-group/)


God, you have given us a breath of life
You shower us with everything to make it bright
All this life you never let us down
You have protected us with all your might; we never left your Sight

Today, I pray to you to hold my mother’s hand
You give her life free of pain and fright
Remove anything that brings her down
Uplift her spirit when we are not around

Hold her hand every time she is terrified
Send her angels that can wipe her tears away
Whisper to the doctor what needs to be done
Bless their hands so they make her better all the time

Hold her hands and give her strength
Let her win this dreadful game
Hold her hands and never leave her side
We count on you to help her win this battle of life.

Hold our hands as we pray to you
Bless us all so we can fight with hope and faith in you
Hold our hearts as we gather
And share our love for each other!

^^which brings to mind, why don't you post your cebuano poems here?:) and if you have the time and patience, their corresponding english translations.

Aaah, that's certainly difficult becase the cadences of the dialect are hard to capture when translated hehehe. But I will try when I can.

In any case here's a Cebuano poem by Adonis Durado translated into English by Merlie Alunan


Pagpangga

Kung duna kay panggaon,
tigumon mo diha niya
ang imong kaugalingon.
Iakob mo ang imong palad
diha sa iyang palad,
susama sa pagtak-om
sa duha ka nabuwag
nga kabhang sa kinhason.
Hipuson mo tuod
iyang pahiyom ug tutok,
diay aron iuli nga tibuok
pinaagi sa halok.
Mahimong itugot mong
isum-ok ka niya
ngadto sa lasang
sa iyang gibati ug hunahuna,
tungod sa utlanan niini,
nasayod kang ang mga sulog
sa busay sa iyang handumanan
kay misteryusong matigom
nganha sa lawod
sa imong dughan.
Ug kini ang rasun nganong
may kamingaw ka
nga masabtan diha sa anino
sa nag-inusarang kahoy.
Nganong may kasikas
sa kabalaka nga mamukaw
inig bukot sa kadlawon
dihang mialimungaw kanimo
nga wa siya sa imong kiliran.
Apan sa pagkaplag
nga nahinanok ra diay
siya sa imong luyo,
gakson mo siya uban
sa kalipay nga nasinati
sa umang nga nakakaplag
og bag-o niyang bayanan.



Love

If you love someone
put all of yourself
in her.
Press your palm
over her palm
the way the two shells
of a clam
connect.
Keep kindly
all her smiles, her looks
that you may return them whole
with your kisses.
You could
allow yourself to be thrown
into the jungle
of her feelings and her mind
because at their edges
you know there are whirlpools
springing from her memories
which will gather mysteriously
into the ocean
of your heart.
That’s how you’ll sense
the huge sadness seeping
from the shadow
of that lone tree,
why bad dreams
waken you as dawn
wraps still the world,
an omen warning you
that she’s no longer by your side.
But when you discover her
peacefully sleeping
at your back
you’ll embrace her with
the joy of the hermit crab
who has found for itself
a new shelter.

(Translated by Merlie Alunan)

^^magnifico!:okay:

Aaah, that's certainly difficult becase the cadences of the dialect are hard to capture when translated hehehe. But I will try when I can.

right! the language specific, cultural, indigenous, and what-have-you essence of the work could be lost in translation. anyway, thanks!

Delubyo
by ME


Narito nga’t parating
Malakas na ihip ng hanging’
Hatid ay simoy
Mula sa patay na nangangamoy!

Ang langit ay magdidilim
Bago pa man magtakip-silim
Dulot ay kalamidad
Sa mga tupang nangapadpad!

Lupa’y may bitak
Nilamon ang may tatak
Dala’y apoy ng impiyerno
Sa mga nagsiluhod sa adorno!

Usigin nga ang tagapakinig
Upang sila’y mayanig
Batid ng marami
Delubyo’y kay dami!

Bintana
by ME


Dalaga sa bintana,
Dungawin mo itong binata.
Dalangin ay iyong dinggin,
Dalay magandang hangarin.

Binata sa bakuran,
Bumabati sa dalaga.
Bitbit ay gitara,
Bungad sa dalaga’y harana.

Sa dalagang nililiyag,
Sa kanta’y napa-ibig.
Sa dalisay na pag-ibig,
Sa dalaga’y bukang-bibig.

i once revolved,
solely around you
till universe evolved,
and freed me from you

you were my sun
my center, my reason
my all things one;
my blinding heaven

round and round in stupid sphere
always far, rarely near
rotating at your whim
a mere planet in your sheme

till laws of the universe,
freed me from gravity’s curse
into awesome unknown hurled,
found myself with other worlds.

i saw and became weak
breathtaking, i beg to speak
knowing now i was a fool,
while with stars beautiful!


-eon oregon spring-

I dream of slowly undressing you
Truly in body, soul, and spirit
To be one and know the intimate you
As no one to you have done it

By candlelight, on lovenest lain
Enlightened love will never wane
The light of love all through the night
Heart of romance under the moonlight

O let me kiss you and call you love!
And sing love’s longings under the moon
From here below to heaven above,
Let the stars and crickets hear my tune

O let me hold you and make you mine!
And i will love you forever more
Please believe my every word and line!
For you alone is whom my love for

For all men’s lies and broken promises
Of women fooled by verbal caresses
My moonlight vows will stay forever
And love you still when night is over.

-eon oregon spring-

^^nice entries:okay:

Post away folks! :colgate:

Link to Thread 1 (http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?t=512725&page=50) in the Archives. :okay: