On Saying Goodbye to Maria, Among The Thousand Other Ways

on the placid waters
upon the dock
where we once started--
slowly
i unraveled the rope
where my boat was tied
while afloat;

i looked towards
the line
where the water ends
and saw
how the great ball
gently give way
to the night.

i had no sail
for the wind to carry me,
to lead me
to where i should go.

as i move forward,
among the gentle waves,
almost like ripples
i was counting on my paddle--
so i could move farther away
faster
away
from you.

now,
under the indigo sky
while my boat
is being carried by
the same waves,
i take a glance of you
one last time,

your right hand moving, waving--
i wasnt certain
if you were calling me back
or you were bidding
"bon voyage";

in your left hand,
safely tucked
close to your chest,
my paddle,
which should have gone
with me
when i left.


november 24, 2009
9.54 am
extension 64517

Karen, Note to Self: On Losing Friends, Losing Love and Being Alone.

You must learn to
travel alone
eat alone
sleep alone
cry alone
shop alone
watch a film alone
laugh alone
love alone

because

you were brought out
to this world alone
(unless you have a twin)
and you
will die alone.

On Weaving Tapestry for Maria, Among Other Ways

I will weave a tapestry in your image
Of gold and brown streaks, your colors, that is
Of reds and mauves, for your passion and unspoken sorrows
Of silver and green pigments, for your better days
Of yellows and ambers, for the light that you bring forth

I will weave a tapestry with your image in mind
To remind me why it is never enough
to describe you
with a single color
shade
hue.

And Just like the threads that I used,
No matter how they raveled upon weaving,
In the end,
With so much hope,
They’ll tie us back—
They,
will tie us back.



_suppiestar
August 21, 2009
Sa station ko.

Of Writing to Letters to Maria, Among Other Things...

I will write letters to you.
In papyrus, in stone tablets and scented stationaries;
In rose petals, in dew drops and in every body of water.

And if the air, thank goodness for the air,
would agree to carry what I must've missed,

I will write the same thing over
And wish that you're writing the same thing too.


*sobrang cheesy*

--August 16, 2009, habang nageencode ng assignment para bukas.
guadalupe, makati

An Dalan Ngada ha Imo

I have not written a single attempt on poetry for quite some time now. I felt like my recent trip to Tacloban has culminated the year-long hiatus from writing-- not in the business sense that is, writing for reports, compliance and innumerable deliverables. No, I am not complaining, don't accuse me of whinning. It's just that, I have not written anything to describe my present state of being for the longest time. Except from “twiterring”: “karen is bored”, “karen is contemplating”, “karen is thinking”, my Facebook page is empty. If not for the “you're a fan of this and that” application, it is a visual representation of the sound of the crickets on a peaceful night in Biliran.

I could just simply change my status from “single” to “it's complicated” so my page will be swarmed with comments from my “friends” asking their endless why's and how's and who's. That's what they usually do. And they get really generous feedback for that. Nah, it's a futile attempt on my part. First, no one would care if I change status. Second, no one would ever believe.

My recent trip back home was like a spark plug-- jumpstarts me back to writing something else apart from what I eavesdropped from the floor, or what I saw in the jeepney on my way home to Guadalupe. Poetry. Poetry to be exact. Poetry, in my case is just about implying what the world is seeing at the moment, associating it with what I am feeling at the moment. Never mind the rhythm, forget about the measures. That's how I view poetry in my case—in my own rules.

And here, while I'm on my 4-hour long travel to Biliran Island, in my 2009 Hello Kitty datebook, I wrote this, in Waray-- because that's what I usually do. As such, the language has never failed me to say what I mean. And in my attempt to let my Tagalista peers understand, I came up with it's bastardized tagalog translation.



An Dalan Ngada ha Imo
alang kan Nanay Joycie

“In nga dalan,
Kun di ta na pag-aagian
Wawad-on, paparaon han mga banwa
nga dinhi maturok...”
-Ini nga Dalan, Voltaire Oyzon

Hagtaas na an mga banwa
Ito nga tanom nga ak natamakan,
Tunukon baya.
Ngan an sig-ot, ngan mga laya nga dahon,
abadaw kay kadamo.

Buot ko na unta humuyo na hin pagpinangita
Kay han kahaluag hini nga uma,
Hain ko daw la iton papamilnga?

Sige la,
kay it nga akon hinumduman
It nga akon gugma--
amo an maghaharas, manhahawan
it akon aagian
ngan ha imo,
dad-on ak utro hito nga dalan.

A rough translation of the Waray poem above:

Ang Daan Patungo sa Iyo
para kay Nanay Joycie

Matataas na yung mga damo
Yang tanim na natapakan ko,
matitinik pala.
Yung mga kalat at tuyong dahon,
ay talagang napakarami.

Gusto ko sanang tumigil na sa paghahanap,
kasi sa laki nitong kapatagan,
San ko naman kaya iyon hahagilapin?

Sige lang,
kasi ang iyong alaala,
ang iyong pagmamahal--
ang maggagapas,
ng aking daraanan
para muli,
dalhin ako ng daang iyon,
patungo sa iyo.

February 17, 2009
dalan tikadto Biliran

when I asked...

I asked for rain
and it came.

I asked for sunlight
and it came.

I asked for love--

and it rained...

Ode to Raama and Sita*

*my two goldfish



worry not of hunger
for Tetra will provide.

worry not of coldness,
for your water will remain warm and calm

worry not of air
for it will never cease to gurgle and bubble...

your glass globe will protect you,
and keep you,
while you--oblivious to the outside world.


december 19, 08
makati