Tranquill Poet

Ad Astra Per Aspera

2006-08-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

(To the stars through difficulty)

The ironies of life

To go up, one must go down
To go forward, one must look back
To go down, one must go up
To go back, one must look forward

In a poem of ironies

Ad astra per aspera
Nulla die sine crucem
Gutta cavat lapidem

Vir. Forte. Humus.

An Encore

2006-08-02T22:00:00.000-07:00

There is no paradigm shift without humility.
Humility is the foundation of all virtues.
Without it, there's no virtue to speak of.
They are mere role play -- acting.
Like an actor or any actress,
Waiting for the crowd
To applause.

Encore.

I Love You

2005-02-11T23:17:00.001-08:00

What else is there left for me to surrender?
Tell me.

a.t.d.
12 February 2005

Can't You Sense?

2005-02-11T23:17:00.000-08:00

Can't you see the sunlight
Passing through palm leaves
Gliding on the ocean...
You only see the trees, the sea

Can't you smell the fragrance
Brewing in the morning Jasmines
Hovering over the newly cut grass...
You only smell the coffee, the daily

Can't you feel the warmth
Filling the surroundings
Melting the drift of cold air...
You only feel the heat, the pinprick

Can't you sense?

a.t.d.
12 February 2005

Hikers

2004-12-16T03:25:00.000-08:00

March 1, 1998 (Note: Submitted this as a requirement for my Lit course. I say, pathetic! :O)

        The sun was directly above the forest. It was noon time. The river sparkled on the right side of the trail under the sun’s rays. There was a little breeze enough to blow the dried leaves off the branches to fall down the trail. There were sounds of different animals which can be heard endlessly. John and his fther were resting at the bottom of a low slope under the shade of a tree. The slope was rocky.
        “Let’s go. We still have halfway to go until the sun sets,” John’s father said, and began to gather their equipment to be put inside their backpacks. “Check your things, John. You have the hand book?”
        “Check.”
        “Compass?”
        “It’s here.”
        “Water?”
        “Yes.”
        “Good. And I have my handbook, my compass, and my water. Then let’s continue the hike. Now, it’s very rocky on this slope so we also have to use our hands to hold on to the rocks to push us up.”
        Both of them were wearing boots of sturd-and-rubber construction which can stand rough terrains. But as John started his climb of th erocky slope, he started losing his balance.
        “John, are you all right?”
        “I am having a hard time on these rocks.”
        “Did you bring anything besides the things which I told you to bring that can make your backpack heavy?”
        “I kind of picked up some strange-looking rocks along the first half of the trail, which I thought I could give to my friends as a souvenir.”
        “I think we have to do away without those rocks if you want to gain your balance back,” he said as he worked his way up the slope.
        “But those rocks are rare, dad, and it will be a good show to my friends.”
        “Leave those rocks behind because heavy things make our hike harder. It even says so in the hand book.”
        “All right, but can I keep one—just one?”
        “Not a single one, John.”
        “All right, all right.” John removed the rocks from his backpack, and continued to climb up the slope with greater ease. At the top of the slope, the land was levelled. The forest was more dense though, and shadows are beginning to form on the ground. On one of the branches, there was a bird with read, black, white and yellow. “Look up there. There’s a rare bird perched on one of the branches. I want to take a picture of it.”
        “I see the bird, but it must not stop us from moving on by looking at it.”
        The bird glided down with no effort at all to a lower branch, which is an arm’s reach high from John He took his camera and pointed it to the bird. Before John was able to take a shot, the bird flew away to a farther branch into the deep woods. John followed where it flew leaving his father along the trails. John found himself in the company of unknown sights and sounds. He realized that he was lost. He did not know what to do.
        “John!” his father shouted.
        John heard the familiar voice of his father and quickly traced where it was coming from. “I am here, dad!” he answered back.
        “Where did you go? I was worried sick for you.”
        “I’m sorry, dad.”
        “The next you get lost, always remember to follow where the water leads. Listen to its flow carefully.”
        John understood what his father said and never removed his eyes from his father anymore. John’s father used his compass and the hand book to find their way back to the trail. The trail was full of dried leaves which fell from the trees. They were golden brown making the trail as if it is made of gold. As they hiked the trail, they reached a part where the road divides.
        “It says in the hand book that we should always take the right road,” John said, putting the book in his backpack.
        “Then let’s take the right road.”
        Just as they trailed the right road, an eagle soared across the sky towards the sun. It was already late afternoon. The sun was preparing to set.
        “Dad, I’m tired.”
        “Drink some water. It will help you reagain some of your strength.”
        John cannot speak any longer because his throat is beginning to dry. So he got his jug and drank a gulp of water, and put the lid back tight so the water would not spill. His eyes were once again alert, and his back straight again.
        “Come on. We cannot waste time anymore. The sun is almost setting,” John’s father said. His walk is faster.
        “Are we near the place that you talked about, dad?”
        “Yes, son. We must not miss the sun now.”
        “How does the place look like?”
        “You will see, son. You will see.”
        Then there was silence. The only sound that can be heard was the sound of their feet brushing against the trail that looked golden because of the dried leaves. John’s father came to a halt, and so did John upon reaching the end of the trail. below was a meadow. One one part, it was covered by a variety of flowers. There was also a lake on another part, and a tree at the center. The eagle was perched on that tree.
        John’s father stood with his eyes fixed on the setting sun which spread its glow across the meadow and into the woods. The sun was golden orange. This made the meadow and everything else look as if they are made of gold. John’s eyes were also fixed on the sun.

The Women Who ate the Ground

2004-12-16T03:22:00.000-08:00

(Note: I don't remember what I ate that made me write this story. Kinda crazy and amateurish I should say. ;P)

        The fire of the sunset sliced through the pale blue sky of the afternoon. The end of the day has emerged. Loleng lights the candles of her house in the lonely unlit town of Humusan. The windows of their house she shut close to protect them from the biting cold of the evening and the soft pinch of the mosquitoes. She went straight to the crying kitchen. Loleng just finished an ordinary day and is having just an ordinary night.

        In the kitchen is Karidad, Loleng’s elder sister, a thirty-something old maid with nothing to do but notice things that are not in order. “What happened with you today? You look so…usual?!”

        “Oh nothing…I just had to be rewarded for all the bad things that I have done in the factory today. They just don’t seem to notice my good side…”

        “And let me hear this list of things that is making you oh so gloomy,” Karidad replied sarcastically. There was a long pause. After Loleng satisfied herself playing with the helm of her recently-stitched blouse, and before Karidad start to open her mouth wide again ready to demand at her face, she finally gets to answer and good-naturedly.

        “They said that I was clumsy, good-for-nothing, better off in the dump sites, a…a…a misfit!”

        “And what else,” Karidad said as a matter-of-factly.

        “And the other usual things that you already know.”

        “And so what’s new? I mean you always get the same comments everyday from your boss…they are just re-phrased sometimes. You should be used to this already! My God, do I always have to listen to this darn list of ugly ways a person can call a person?”

        “You don’t seem to care.”

        “I do care! But I can’t always comfort you and assure you that everything is going to be all right because everything is not going right. You have to do something about these things they complain about you…and now!”

        “And what about you? When are you getting a job? I can’t always be the one to always work for the two of us, can I? You blame me for our loss but you yourself do not do anything about it.”

        Three years after that ordinary night, on the same day, time and circumstance, Loleng and Karidad are again in the same spot in the sala. Still talking of the same thing.

        “Why can’t you learn to be more careful? You always…”

        “Here we go again, Karidad. What do you want me to say next, ‘Why can’t you get a job of your own so you can help me bring ourselves out of this muck?’”

        Loleng’s words rang in Karidad’s head. She started seeing the furniture in the room spinning and spinning. Her lips felt pale and tears wanted to fall but they can’t…she can’t—she won’t allow it. She stood up from her seat in the living room and pounded her feet heavily on the floor as if to wake the rest of herself to face a full-body mirror left for them by their mother. She placed her hands to cover her face and started sobbing. Her hands become wet with tears she had always kept in her heart. Loleng could not do anything. She stayed in her seat amazed. She never saw her elder sister burst out like that before. A long while has passed before she could actually say a word…as long as Karidad’s trying.

        “I…I…I am sorry Karidad. You were supposed to be used to me already…”

        Gathering up her last sob, she finally spoke, “Loleng, it is my fault that we are in such a wreck of house. I have never seen myself for a long time…at least not in this way. It is just so hard to swallow your own words after you discover the same goes to you. It is so hard to list down all the things that is wrong with one person…life is hard. It is hard to live. It is hard to get the money. It is hard to look good. It is hard to be good. It is double hard to accept who we really are. Life is just so hard.”

        Loleng could not understand why Karidad was saying those words to her. Karidad is probably the person who will not eat breakfast without having to look at herself for a second time in the mirror. But one thing was clear for her. “Karidad, I have known that for a long time. And I am actually glad that I always get the same comments year after year. I have learned to accept the truth. I have learned that life is hard and that I will forever complain about this imperfect world…Us eating this imperfect ground…”

a. t. d.
31 October 2001

For Cecilia

2004-12-16T03:14:00.000-08:00

As you play your music on the piano
I wonder and stare at your cold fingers
that touch my ivory keys.

Are those the fingers that I long to feel
On those times when I need you most?
The music I long to hear?

Is that the voice that is supposed to melt
my own frozen pith I long to set free?
The dynamics that was not there…

I hunger for the piano of your smile
but I sit and lay still for something I yearned
that will never come after all.

I crave now for nothing but the absence of
your cold fingers and seek the empty breeze
of my true love’s breath…

Not to be played ever again by those
cold fingers that freeze my heart to its death.
But still hear the melody of my true love’s song.

a.t.d.
20 October 2001

Patient Donkey

2004-12-16T03:13:00.000-08:00

The radiance in the dark
The guide of day and of night
Admirable as your are
With the beauty of your bright light

I sit and gaze at the sky
As I pause to speak with you
The breeze blows with a sigh
It seemed as if won’t come the dew

The breeze stronger it grew
Beating behind to urge you
“Move on, move on,” so it says
To follow the star I go anew

a.t.d.
12 January 2002

Playful Donkey

2004-12-16T03:12:00.000-08:00

I want to place myself behind the wall
Thinking rather I’d play my notes away from all
On my own for mine own ears to hear
But Lo and behold! The wall starts to fall!

The wall went smack head-on on me
As I blow and draw through the holes for the key
My perked ears crumbling down to the ground
My mouth a-gape, broken pieces I see…

(Will I ever hear the bells toll again?)

This is what we get hiding behind
Our own little consolation in our mind
Escaping the reality of witnesses to our being
Being to our worst and to our kind.

The beauty of life is not in accepting
For that is only a step to the next great thing
The hope for the flowers to bloom again
As a tender – but strong!- hand puts your ears back.

(Yes, I will hear the bells toll again!)

a.t.d.
12 January 2002

Tides

2004-12-16T03:11:00.000-08:00

As eyes travel as I tilt my head - up.
That shallow green...that deepest blue!
White foam come in, like an army
ready to fight - in one direction.
They rise and they fall as natureworks
its laws - pulled.

Rocks...fine and countless as they are;
Laid down by will as in steps - up.
Dry as it may seem - this is the land
where trees abide - where fruits abide.
This is where the wind blows as
it harmonizes all creation

Yes, where the shallow and the deep are,
Also where life abides, but in silence they lie.
One by one the foam goes - no sound...
But together all those white you see,
you hear that sound as if the wind blows...

See, these are not two worlds
as it may seem though it is
Deepest blue...abiding trees...no difference
lies for both sing the same song
the wind whispers from where
we do not know.
There, where trees abiding, the army sets in
- all in one direction
There, where the army wants to go
Where I want to be, am.

21 May 1998
San Juan, Batangas

Silence

2004-12-16T03:10:00.000-08:00

The depth of silence is unfathomable
Its predictability is never that easy
Are you sad, or are you happy?
Silence is the best place to be for hiding.

It cannot be interpreted quickly
Or you’ll fall into a zone of danger
To suffer the consequences of anger
To think otherwise far from the truth.

Silence is a consolation and a refuge
To stay there long – is it really wrong?
You’ll discover a lot, you’ll hear a lot, yes.
Whether it’s the truth you hear, I don’t know.

Don’t go far, don’t go far
Or you’ll drown and see your life
flash before your very eyes!
Don’t go drowning, please, raise your head

And talk to
Me.

a.t.d.
25 October 2002

Untitled 6

2004-12-16T03:09:00.000-08:00

Tight…slowly…a tinge of green
A stretch of its arms
Chin up, eyes facing the sun
Reaching out towards the light

Bright…the green coming out
One, two, three, four and more!
All palms out offering for cover
Spreading out across with might

Tight…stronger…a hold on the ground
Crawling humbly on the humus
Through humus south of compass
Extending deep searching for right

Alternating heat, cold, light, dark
Wet, dry…Blown: pushed, pulled
A pinch of brown, another pinch
Spreading as time goes by

a.t.d.
1999

Let me continue the poem for a happy ending:

With the ray of light in every break of dawn
The birds start singing again
As you lift your eyes up to the fount of light
Your body becomes light and you find yourself
on both feet again.

I am overcome by Sadness

2004-12-16T03:03:00.000-08:00

I am overcome with sadness I cannot swim over
The depth of my heart I cannot carve out
It somehow carves on its own without my knowing
The dagger that sinks deep into my soul
I cannot get hold of for I am helpless
It continues to slice, to pierce through
To stop it knows not of it seems

Hear my prayer:
Heal this wound if you so wish
But I want it so if you so want
To feel for you on that dry wood
I want for that is what you want.

a.t.d
20 March 2002

Journey

2004-12-16T02:53:00.000-08:00

Tick: You start your life’s journey
        at the rising of the sun
On the pavement you walked
        with the rhythm of your heart
The warmth falls touching your face
        tells you to move on, move on
Whispering grass, blooming of flow’rs
        greet you pleasingly, teasingly;
The thought of your destiny
        heartens you on, move on

Heat sits on its throne where he
        reigns with fire as its scepter.
Rays of power strikes its plan
        through skin so vulnerable.
As the dark shadows of the trees,
        invite you for longing refuge;
A man-sized block of wood along
        the way, prepared you your slumber.
The thought of your destiny
        quickens your footsteps, move on

Gone are the trials; threat now rules:
        though surrender was not yours.
The ground moistened by torrent rains;
        your footsteps stagger back slowly;
The dark makes you long for light...
        Decide. That you set what’s right:
The thought of destiny
        brings life to you again
The shallow foothold finds
        foundation in the core
Beat fastens as your steps
        find their way anew
Every step marking deep
        ‘til the last is held free
The battle is won now
        Out of that lurking dark

You end your life’s journey
        at the setting of the sun
On the pavement you walked
        with the rhythm of your heart
The soft touch of the sun
        inviting you to its arms

You throw yourself at last
        like a child to his father: tock.

09/25/98

Virtud

2004-12-13T07:30:00.001-08:00

It’s been a long time since I got
corrected and it felt like I was up
in the clouds and forever…
Jumping like a mindless doe
from one to another…

These childish ways and days
are finally over when that
blessed correction was given.
The doe not anymore mindless.
Her feet now back on the ground
after the greatest humiliation
met with her that caused her
great pain as she gravitates
with the pull of your words!
and firmly place her feet on the hard ground
with much effort, with much force…
No, not only that natural force,
but the inner as well.
My breath runs away from me.
My hands tremble as the energy
escapes me. My skin dries as the
moisture of the dew evaporates
from me. My senses come back
as I lose all of these…!

She begins to tread the forest
again for there is where she belongs.
Treading on sure ground – nothing
is better, no where is better.
She has been to two poles:
And has now found true virtue.

07 January 2002
a.t.d.

Untitled-10 October 1999.doc

2004-12-13T07:30:00.000-08:00

Untitled
10 October 1999

Why is it sometimes
You escape from my consciousness
And everything turns to a machine
screws, bolts, springs, wires, buttons…

Why is it sometimes
You escape from my view
And everything else seems to leave me
alone, on my own, helpless…

Why is it sometimes
Your voice escapes my ears
And everything else sounds tempting
unwilling, emotional, very animal…

Why is it always
You are looking down on me
And everything else is alright
simple, generous, loving…

Untitled 2-30 October 1999.doc

2004-12-13T07:29:00.000-08:00

Untitled 2
30 October 1999

Drowning in the abyss of push and pull
Waves crashing on the back
On which everything drops endlessly,
On the grains of the sand being swallowed,
That soul crawling helplessly…

The weeds slippery coiling through the corners,
Hand loosening hold of the unstable floor
With the push and pull of the currents,
The thought of uncertainty and doubt,
All twisting and turning in the poor soul…

The tranquility of the water’s surface
Does not speak of what is down under.
But, lo, this silence is disturbed!
A hand reaches down offering a tender
inspiration that awakens the deposition.

The waves turn back.
The grains of the sand have settled in fear.
The weeds like Medusa have hardened.
The creatures of the abyss have unscaled.
That poor soul extends and gasps smiling for air…