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Posts Tagged ‘literature’

The first point of the article is true to the bones. I write for myself–my thoughts, my happiness, my anger, the fun things I encounter.

When I looked at the stats, I can see patterns of what posts are most viewed, the Cebuano poetry. I think that maybe some Cebuano literature students are trying to find something for this assignment, papers, etc. That makes me happy; at least I’m helpful in a small way. 😀 With that development, I tried to write poetry more, but found that I lost that random thought-write process I use when writing. You know, when something pops in your mind, you write it on anything writable. Good thing my work PC has sticky notes where all my thoughts are posted all over two monitors. Just kidding; I arrange my sticky notes–OC, hahaha. So I resolved to write whenever that spark comes.

Back to the question, “who is your reader?” To answer this, I am still my number one reader. As I have written in the About page, this is my online diary, though I don’t write daily. I write for myself because I love to express what I think and feel. Just like that.

But on a bigger picture called the future, I want to leave something for my kids to gag while reading. Really, I want them to know something about me more than what they do know me physically, and I hope WordPress will still be here by the time I give them my account name. I spend like twelve hours away from home, and lucky for me, I can still write when I am at work, during breaks of course.

~
KiPet, I hope you find my blog worth your time. Maybe when you read this, you’d be in your teens, hacking the PC for whatever reasons and you discovered that mom is keeping a blog, not just one but three. Whatever is here is written from my observations, and of course, from my point of view. If you think otherwise, that’s great! It means you are just like me. Cheers to life! May we are still friends the time you read this and you are over that petty sibling fights and you read a lot. Love, Mama. 😀

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Leave me be

my journey has just started

to weave the weak threads

to make a strong hemp.

 

I have forgotten

the rudiments

of the prayerful,

the source

of such wonder,

the luster

of that wonder.

 

Leave me be

alone

to sail away

without a pole.

 

Don’t

impose,

push, or pull me

out of your imagined

pyre of the unbelievers.

 

I believe I am lost;

but in losing I found

I belong.

 

Leave me be

I will find my way through the dark.

Somehow, I will come to see light.

 

My dark hours are

of no sense,

incomprehensible,

idiotic,

unreasonable.

 

Yet it is all I am

and no one but me.

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to the Wall

my own walk

along the top

of a crumbling wall

through the twists and turns

through the storm of tears

and the thunder of laughters

 

perhaps I was mad

to scale it over

and over again

to walk again and be pushed

and be pushed once more

 

i have clung

to the side

my hands nowhere

my head pressing

hard on the top

the rest

a dangling thread

 

perhaps I was mad

to smile

amid the crush

of my skull

 

as I walk

away from the wall

I pray for solace

for air and wings

for the elements of sanity

to come back to me

and bear me

to my end of days

 

 

**A wall is supposed to be a protection from the harmful elements of the outside world.
A wall is supposed to be standing–a supportive structure. However, reality bites. Walls can crumble down. Walls may stand through time–like a statue, like a tombstone–cold and emotionless.

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unread

I squeeze
the soul between the letters
of the unspoken words
and push them
apart
can you see
the hidden
meaning between
the lines
now?

be more
than a pious
babble
that you
think
you are

how odd
the words
I have written
are simpler
than the
complex
rote memorizing
you endured;
the thoughts
your fat brain
can conjure
yet
all you see is
a nag
too many
words in a page
just words.
nothing more.

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How do you?

With a sigh so deep it can touch the ocean floor;
with eyes shut until they bleed;
with fists clenched and knuckles blue;
with a blank stare at eternity?

With an indefinite pause,
quickened pulse,
pumped veins,
weakened knees…

Lips mumbling for words unuttered.

Of the lament that is never seen
Such beauty, such pretense
Even the shadows are left baffled
Only the cobwebs bear witness.

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I owe two articles for my Philippine Literature Challenge. Yeah, nobody is not busy. However, this quest is setting my heart pumping and my brain functioning in a rather excited motion. I think about what to write every night.

To start, I have to search the net for a good read on Cebuano literature. I found a few and truly enjoyed reading them aloud. Reading a Cebuano piece is a different moment, like falling in love–way pamilok kung motutok… Well, for me, I have to read it with my eyes in every syllable of the word. What I am going to share is not a literary piece but rather an intellectual discussion about Cebuano poetry. It’s a blog post with comments I was so engrossed in reading I forgot my coffee.

The discussion started with a post listing what pops out of the blogger’s mind when Cebuano poetry is the topic. It’s an interesting list ranging from names to songs to what is needed. What tickles my Cebuano spirit is the definition they gave to it.

Cebuano poetry is a different consciousness.  What makes it distinct, like all other poetry, is its own culture. I have read several from years ago until these days and one element is imminent—the guatsinanggo factor. Often (from my poems I have read), the comical and witty if not the ‘green joker’ personality of a Cebuano is present. One major example is the poem Suwat sa Sugarol by Adonis Durado, the owner of the blog himself. The poem reminds me of my father (he is alive and well, thanks God), a sugarol by heart . What else have I learned? We terribly need good critics. As much as we love to write poetry, we should also consider their quality. Let there be critics! The learning game is never satisfying without someone lashing at your work. We should not take them negatively all the time, though they are usually pride-crushing. Criticism is all around us anyway and we know we are on the roll if someone notices our work.

Lastly, I want to be a critic, oh yeah. I suddenly remember the summer with Dr. Ulysses Aparece  (AB/Liberal Arts, University of Cebu) and the yellow pads he used to carry for our literary criticism class. They contain wonderful tools for literary criticism.

What I have read today is here in my heart. I am keeping it and I will learn the trade of the critics for my love of Cebu.

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count me in

in your play

on the field

with the sun above our heads

 

i can still run

and catch you

… how i love your giggle

pong! —found you…

 

however you do it won’t matter

all my heart knows—i am contented

all the worries of age

fly away with the wind

 

you make me feel

i am me again

one with the clouds

with the flying kite

and the siyatong shout

 

your laughter

fills this empty heart

your waving arms, running feet

erases the weariness of my soul

 

you and your way

me and my mind

we just belong

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VICEDOMINI OF THE WUP New Name, New Location! Welcome to our poetry corner, The Poets’ Corner NEW SITE! The name has been changed to (our) because it belongs to all of us who post! Sincerely hope you find the change easy and exciting to be here! Please feel free to post and comment your thoughts so we all can enjoy!