Longer

My first completed song. April 5, 2022.

I wish I could tell you

How much you mean to me

I want to stay with you

I want to stay with you, stay with you longer

Verse 1:

I thought I was alone

But I had you to call my own 

You were the one that I could turn to

The place that I came home to 

In a world where I’m alone

There’s a place that I had always known 

Pre-chorus:

I didn’t want it to end this way

I thought that you would always stay 

I wish that you and I could be

Just happy and free, you and me

Chorus:

I want to stay with you

I want to stay with you, stay with you longer

Verse 2:

Thought that I could be a friend

I thought that this would never end 

I didn’t want to know

The future that it holds

Pre-chorus:

I didn’t want it to end this way

I thought that you would always stay 

I wish that you and I could be

Just happy and free, you and me

Chorus:

I want to stay with you

I want to stay with you, stay with you longer (2x)

Repeat verse:

I thought I was alone

But I had you to call my own

You were the one that I could turn to

The place that I came home to 

Repeat chorus: 

I want to stay with you, stay with you longer (2x)

End: 

In a world where I’m alone

I’m on my own 

Who knows what’s in my heart of hearts?
I wish that I could show it. 

Instead, I wrapped it tightly to conceal

The ones I do not owe it to. That’s fine -

As long as no one knows it, too.

I gave the gift to you one day;

You tore the wrapper open. 

And underneath the layers are

Things that are left unspoken.

I wanted you to see the parts - those parts that have been broken.

You held it up to see the scars;

Knew why I never showed them.

You understood the reasons why

This gift was saved for you; from people who don’t have to know 

What I reveal to you.

Who knows what's in my deepest hearts?
I wish that I could show it.
Instead, I wrapped it tightly to conceal
The parts I don't owe to others to feel.

That's fine - as long as none besides you know.
I gave the gift to you one day;
You tore the wrapper open, layer by layer to show
The things that are left unspoken.

I wanted you to see the broken parts,
The scars that I've kept hidden deep.
You held it up, and with gentle heart,
You understood the reasons why I kept.

This gift was saved for you, from prying eyes,
For you to see what I reveal in trust.
You knew why I never showed these parts before,
And in your hands, my heart is secure.

Imagination Gone Blank

Has my imagination gone blank?
The outdoors look so pale.
I see no more than wires and streets
And smoke that mouths exhale.

I yearn to see beyond the clouds
But trees just block my view.
Has there truly been no sun for days?
The birds don’t sing today.

I must go out and find the breeze
That once gave life to me.

I must look up, see things unseen,
Let my creativity be sparked, and creativity be keen.

Has my imagination gone blank?
The outdoors look so pale.

The birds are visible, but quiet and still,
The houses are big but empty, with no life to fill.

Perhaps I need to shift my gaze,
To find the beauty in the haze.
Perhaps the world outside is fine,
But my eyes need to redefine.

I need to search for hidden views,
And let my imagination renew.
I'll chase the wind, I'll feel the sun,
And let my creativity again be won.

Dear God, guide my gaze anew,
Help me find beauty, even in the haze, too.
Perhaps the world outside is full of Your grace,
But my eyes need Your insight to see Your face.

Lead me to hidden views, both high and low,
Renew my imagination, that I may see and know.
Give me the courage to chase the wind, to feel Your sun,
Let my creativity be won, and for Your glory, begun.

Untitled Song

Verse:
Come with me
Sit on the grass
Put your sweater on me
I lean on your chest 
Leave your worries behind
Let me hold your hand
Share your troubles with me
I will understand

Pre-chorus:
The world is for you to discover
The tide waits for you 
So much to defend and recover
The high roads that we must define 

Chorus:
Paint me a picture
Sing me a song
Tell me that you are
Where I belong
You are the memory
Through all of these years
Your love protects me 
You are so dear

Verse:
Lie with me
Let’s watch the sky
Flowing into sunrise  
With you at my side
Gentle breeze is blowing 
Lay your head and rest
Love for now and always
I have found the best

RIP, BIRB: A Haiku

Lain outside the door 

Feathers scattered all around

Petals on the ground

I’m standing on... (Sonnet 14)

Sharing my favorite quote by Audra McDonald. "I am standing on Lena Horne's shoulders. I am standing on Maya Angelou's shoulders. I am standing on Diahann Carroll and Ruby Dee, and most of all, Billie Holiday. You deserved so much more than you were given when you were on this planet. This is for you, Billie."

This is for you, Pastor W.

I’m standing on the shoulders of the one 

Who still believes in me despite it all.

He tells me I am teachable and called

To lead, to love, to say, 

(unfinished)

Personals Ad

From October 16, 2015

---

Introverted creative genius, overthinker worrier

Publishes ad on newspaper

Sick and tired of university life, needing an escape, a date

Thinking she has lost talent: “Would you help a depressed girl? Donate.”

No, not cash. Deliver promise to mailing address: N/A. Lost girl; location unknown.

Meet her instead. Quietly. Because only you would know where to find her.

Bring her to your chest (check if head is at the right place),

Assure her that everything is okay--do not ever,

Ever leave her side. She will push you away, throw fits at you,

Say everything to make you believe she doesn’t need you,

But hold still because your presence keeps her sane,

And your promise keeps her alive.

When she sheds tears, do not be alarmed. Ask her what she feels--keep asking,

Keep trying. You will take her to Capri Island to see electric blue seas and clear skies,

To operas and orchestras to remind her how to feel. You will keep giving--

Even though she tries to run away from you,

You have to keep winning her back.

Biyayang Kalikasan

I wrote this Ambahan (Oriental Mindoro Hanunuo-Mangyan poetry) back in 2016. Unpublished.

Lubos na kalumbayan
Aking nararanasan
Tuwing nasisilayan
Nasirang kalikasan
Manlambot ang halaman
Nawalan ng tahanan
Ang ibon sa rangiran
Ang maya at bidlawan
Tahanan basurahan
Gawaing tampalasan
Walang kadahilanan
‘Di pinagsisisihan
Huwag nating dungisan
Tubig ng Agwanayan
Kalinisang Amawan
Bangong galing bunguran
Huwag nating sugatan
Punongkahoy’t halaman
Ating kapaligiran
Biyayang kalikasan

Modernity is

Modernity is alumni models mentoring current top models in competition. It is breaking out of cycles and coming back to them.

It is 10-minute Shakespeare plays in theater-in-the-round and 4-hour operas on YouTube 

It is slowing down in progress and finishing the week ahead of schedule

It is both the good and the bad about Netflix, Christmas songs, evangelical Christian churches and technology

It about our time; who we are: “thank u, next”

It’s the curriculum, what it is and what it isn’t, and starting afresh, when you leave and when you come back

Perhaps recurring mistakes aren’t there to teach us a lesson. Repetitions are the lesson, the repetition of the repetition itself.

The dance of flames in his eyes 
Doused by his secrets of a forgotten childhood
Those tears were the sweet caresses of her
Fingers softly on his face
I wipe away

Your touch
Is sunlight on my skin
       turning
Drops of gold into moments
       rewinding


--For G.

To my ghost readers

Sorry for the lag. My blog looks abandoned, but it really isn't. There's a treasure poem I hide among my drafts, which contains some gold and a lot of blood (shedding of heart). It's a Personals Ad. It's a Personals Ad because I'm tired of waiting still. I wrote the first part, "Flesh," a couple of months ago before 2015 ended. I started writing the second part, "Meat," today. I will need more time... perhaps another year.

Something deep inside of me is waiting only to be understood.

Vous, Musicien

My language
is tasteless
to your tongue--which,
in defiance of a first requirement,
I seriously forgot about
because of your music.

Shorties

[1.]

I've often wondered what you'll think
And feel when I show you
The ugly essay that explains
The deepest things I feel for you.
You've started deeply in my heart,
I can't simply deny;
But trust that I will soon forget.
I promise you, I'll try.

[2.]

I've often wished you'd write me back
For after all I've written you.
It seems the very proper thing
To do when someone writes to you.
I can keep wishing you'd reply
To everything I've sent and said,
But know that what I want right now
Is have you somehow off my head.

[3.]

You cry at night from TV shows

That do not seem to matter.

I turn the lights off and you sigh

A Great Wall of disaster.

I slip away to Neverland

While you go back to watching,

Then rise to catch the stillness of

The sunrise in the morning.

Banig na Gawang Banban (Ambahan)

(2nd place - Write Green: Premio Ambahan 2014)

Sa tumpok ng kawayan

Tabing-ilog ng Kuywan

Mahirap ang anihan

Tuwing buwan ng tag-ulan

Ngunit dito sa Kuywan

Umuusbong ang banban

Natatanging halaman

Handog ng kalikasan

Walang kumakalaban

Sa kanyang katibayan

Matagal ang gawaan

Pinagtitiyagaan

At pinagpapaguran

Pinagsusumikapan

At pinagpapawisan

Higit pa sa ‘sangdaan

Dahon ang kailangan

Upang makapaglaan

Banig na gawang banban

Para may mahigaan

Sa buwan ng tag-ulan

E. 1

I grab the sheets to hide;

I hear a lover's heartbeat.

          Hands removing covers like unwrapping

          Presents on a white winter morning.

After Dennis Haskell

Original:

At times I wonder what it is that really

Makes a poet; they say that he who owns

The most experience is wise. And wisdom, an

Attribute of age, comes with a great price I believe,

And so does Haskell. It changes you to think that life

Reveals ephemeral. I cherish reading every

Verse in the sweetest satisfaction that he believes

In the immortality of a poet in writing, ironically

Because finite human beings are objectified in a

Strange yet very meaningful way. A child can make so

Much sense of the mundane. A poet captures,

Or attempts to capture, a kind of experience:

Picasso spent most of his adult life trying to see

Through the eyes of a child, says he.

With experience and all that I may write with

I may never see my life in order

The way I think I should, accurately;

And to touch a thesaurus is sacrilegious. 


Revision 1:

At times I wonder what it is that really
Makes a writer; they say that he who owns
The most experience is wise. And wisdom,
An attribute of age, comes with experience, I believe,
And so does Haskell. Experience changes you to think
That life reveals ephemeral.

I cherish reading lines of poetry because I believe
In the immortality of a poet in writing, ironically
Because finite human beings live and die instead.
A child can make so much sense of the mundane.
A poet captures, or attempts to capture, a kind of
Experience:

Picasso spent most of his adult life trying to see
Through the eyes of a child.
With experience and all that I may ever learn to write with,
I would love to see my life in proper order
The way I think I should, consistently;
And to touch a thesaurus is heretic.

Incomplete and Nagged At (title taken from Dennis Haskell)

Original:

The worst thing [about] being alone under

A tree of stars is… no I’m sorry I cannot twist

My tale by telling you how I did not revel at the loneliness

Of my being alone; and you were—always, actually—probably

With company. When I looked up I remembered

The stones down your hair, I remembered they shone

Quietly enough for one I. Then you told me that if

You placed those stones on a plate they would

Be spilling over with light,

Because of their luster, but you’ve said only

So much about it. Your friends wouldn’t have known

What to say better—you tell me

Not to judge or speak harshly about people, but I would

Neither—either. I know that I’ve known of a kind of

Beauty to myself when I saw, tonight, the same, the sight,

A tree of stars, alone. And the worst thing about being,

The worst thing about being alone

Under a tree of stars is that I may often have to view it

Alone and just quietly enough for one I.

Revision 1:

The worst thing about being alone under
A tree of stars is... wait, let me first tell you
That I reveled at the loneliness of my being alone;
You were--always, actually--probably
With company, and they're always with you.
When I looked up I remembered our youth
And the stones down your hair,
And I remembered that they shone
Quietly enough for one I.
Then you told me that if you placed those stones
On a plate they would be spilling over with light,
Because of their luster,
But you've said only so much about it.
Your friends wouldn't have known
What better to say--you tell me not to judge
Or speak harshly about people, but I would
Neither--either. I know that I've known of
A kind of beauty to myself when I saw,
Tonight, the same, the sight of
A tree of stars, alone.
And the worst thing about being,
And the worst thing about being alone
Under a tree of stars is that
I may often have to view it alone
And just quietly enough for one I.


Note: I do not believe in this poem anymore.

Woman in the Shadows (An ekphratic poem from “The Numbering at Bethlehem” by Pieter Bruegel)

Original:

I am haunted by the stillness of your form, oh how complex
That one figure, the singularity of your being: there,
In the shadows, an open door, a different world in an empty,
Quiet silhouette. You make no noise, no sound. Answer;

I wonder, friend, or enemy, of contempt,
About your state, your complex state
Is in shambles, your body in the dark; your soul seems
To smell nobody, nothing, never

Mind us. Stay as you are, frozen, timeless
Figure in the dark, on the wall; I know a common
Kind of shade I've lived my life longing for:
There, where you are,

Where you hide, oh friend, or enemy, of the world,
Guardian of none, devotee of faction,
Companion of shadows, alone.

Revision 1:

I am haunted by the stillness you project.
The singularity of your being there,
In the shadows, under an open door,
Is amusing, terrifying.
You make no noise, no sound, you are an empty,
Quiet sillhouette; and I wonder, friend,
About your state. Your complex state
Is in shambles, and your body, in the dark;
You soul smells nobody, nothing, never
Mind everyone else. Stay as you are--frozen,
A figure in the dark, on the wall; I know a common
Kind of state I've lived my life longing for:
There, where you are,
Where you hide, friend, or enemy of the world,
Guardian of none, devotee of faction,
Compation of shadows, alone.

Revision 2:

I am haunted by the stillness you project.
The singularity of your being in the shadows,
Under an open door,
Is amusing. Terrifying.
You make no noise, no sound; you are an empty,
Quiet sillhouette; and I wonder, friend,
About your state. Your complex state
Is in shambles, and your body, in the dark;
You soul smells nobody, nothing, never
Mind everyone else. Stay as you are--frozen,
A figure in the dark, on the wall; I know a common
Kind of state I've lived my life longing for:
There, where you are,
Where you hide, friend, or enemy of the world,
Guardian of none, devotee of faction,
Compation of shadows, alone.

(Written before WRITLIT grades were revealed...)

1 John 4:18

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

***

To live but suffer,

Or to die but not fulfill,

Recover. This poem offers a choice

Between love and fear. Easy

Vocabulary. Fear comes first

In the dictionary, the search

For meaning is frightening. You rethink

Your actions; fear is ever leading.

The chance at loss, the loss

Of hope, the dream begone. But life did happen

Once. You devoured the poultry at the banquet

Center, you drank the blood

Of the wine of poetry, you

Felt, you knew, you lived with

Every whiff of word in the wind, and love

Was translated into the words that lived

And died with you: the love of fear,

Stood you against redemption. Hello.

The fear you loved, the fear of love.

Shut your eyes, tight, and think not too much,

Too much. It might happen. One dream, one big

Dream, might die. But try one dream, dream one. You've lived one,

Dreamed. You know how it works, that when you suffer,

You recover, resurrect.