How does her mind meet a thought?
Sometimes it is that magical coincidence of words crossing ways
like serendipity
— finding something good she didn’t even look or ask for
But at times, too, it’s just one smelly ‘spell’
when her mind meets (or never meets) a thought
like constipation
— ‘laboring’ so hard
or feel
like waiting a decade
before something ‘glorious’ comes out
This is how the writer writes.
photo: loyola.edu
I am glad to have discovered a great poet in the person of Lang Leav. Getting a copy of her book soon! (Photo taken from Lang Leav’s Facebook page)
I come here with my running shoes
With a dream and a poem, I leave.
Like the eyes of my wandering thoughts
To the ceiling at night
The eager heartbeat of the brushes
To a clean canvass
The blank countenances on a jeepney
An untold narrative comes out
Of the infinite spaces
Of the undefined
Waiting to conceive
A story
A song
Or
A sigh
When I stare at an empty sheet.
Syllables fight to unite
To incarnate the thought
Of a questioning wise
Like an inch by inch motion
Waiting for the perfect beat
Waiting for gravity to drop
Every faultless intuition
Inhabit a kingdom
Of an untarnished sheet
The toughest battleground
In the infinite spaces
Of human mind where lies
This war of words
How do you really draw them
right from the heart?
Write
from
the
Heart.
(photo:www.flashxml.net )
#reminscence
She fights for her thoughts as an indomitable warrior
fights for the people’s liberation from
The nights of terror that must unface
She sings the hymn of the soul and the Divine
the music of quietness that shouts at the ears
of arteries beneath the chest that beats
She listens to her own breath
She cries and sobs the bitter-sweet angst
She weeps
again
like a child and a century old mistress
of life.
She counts the hours with daydreams
and colors it with illusions
Alive as the crimson, and multitude of memoirs
She scribbles with her blood
She dances with her silhouette and the trees
to the air that seduces
her cerebral to ecstatic serenity
She frees
and freezes from the coldness that
hypnotizes her spirit to an ephemeral escape
She smells fragrance in beguiling pages as it transcends
her to antiquity and ages
She kisses every impending notion voices may arouse
and argues with her sensibility
She devours their charm of wisdom like a hungry wild
She lives in an empty sheet.
where she finds a sacred asylum
The ink blots
She awakens her sanity
(April 22, 2012)
photo from pinterest
Nakaka-miss
ang pagsusulat
tungkol sa mga bagay bagay na gustong gusto mo
talagang isulat.
Di yung tipong kailangan mong halikan
ang labi ng sandamakmak na tasa ng kape
para pawiiin ang antok
at kung no anong klaseng gasolina
ang makakapag paandar ng makinang naghihikahos
Parang kumakapa sa dilim ng mga salitang
lumilipad sa kalangitan
Tila sapilitang sumisisid sa karagatan
at malulunod dahil hindi alam
ang kahahantungan
Nakakamiss
Yung tipong di mo na rin kailangang ibabad
ang mga paa mo sa maligam-gam na tubig
para gisingin ang buong
diwa para sa mga makabuluhang kaisipang
hindi maintindihan
Nakaka-miss ang nakakaaliw na ingay
ng aking puso.
Nakaka-miss ang
tuloy
tuloy
na
daloy
ng
wika..
malayang gumagalaw
ang pluma
na sumasaliw sa musika
ng damdamin na nagsusumigaw
Hanggang
sa
huling
tuldok.
(March 2012 #Blogging vs Academic Paper # Research Essays vs Poetry
