THANK YOU, Philippines Graphic, for having my poems...

...grace the whole page 42 of your current July 20, '15 issue! It is truly an honor. (Philippines Free Press in 1998, then now Philippines Graphic. I guess getting published in the country's two esteemed news-and-literary paper magazines, in two consecutive centuries, ain't bad. ;) )

Now, on other "related" news. Ayon kay Senador Ralph Recto ('SONA IS POETRY, BUDGET IS PROSE'):

Poetry: State of the Nation; prose: Technical Report to the SONA and the proposed national budget.

What he isn't saying, the common Filipino's experiences and struggles:

Epic poetry: The true state of the nation.

* * *

Anyway, print on photo of page, bottom of this post, is a little too small already. So here they are:

Shadow on Bathroom Floor

I watch my shadow stare back at me without eyes,

omniscient as I perceive it to be, knowing all about me...

when it's just a splotch the lit light bulb on the ceiling,

above the toilet bowl, casts before me,

upon the tiled floor cum Rorschach test.

Okay, all-knowing it isn't. Neither is it dumb.

Or anywhere in-between. It's just there;

dark and futile mimicry of reflection.

Wing envy

Grounded humans we, wax only figuratively,

When we refer to ourselves as having those

Pairs of “membranous appendages,” of feather,

Flesh, and bone, that our avian cohabitants

Flap vigorously to fly, or hold still and extended

To glide in the blue, gray, or blue-gray sky.

But there is no direct relation between earned respect

And altitude, it seems, for those naturally endowed

To leave earth for a while.

And so the treatment, “accordingly”: If we can’t fly,

At least we do vicariously, through piercing steel

Projectiles, launched from lethal devices, also of steel.

As experts, we have learned to reach and decimate

What we can only see and aim at, but can not touch

nor soar with, solely with our bodies.

Such immense satisfaction:

To see eagle or dove plummet like a shuttlecock,

Except with feather, flesh, and bone – and blood.

(And, what's with the computer "program" that erroneously conjoins two separate words? removing the space in-between? I didn't know "norsoar" and "solelywith" would appear, prior to submission. Sorry...So please consider the above the final texts... :p Though now, with this blog post, I got a problem with the spacing between lines/stanzas/paragraphs... :( )

*  *  *

Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems). 

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

"Hell is -- other people!"

...said Jean-Paul Sartre, in "No Exit."

One day, I'll travel the world naked

and holding nothing (not even a travel bag).

One day, everybody else will be blind.

*  *  *

Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems). 

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

My Collections

Then . . .

I counted my books of poetry
and comedians' biographies,
and was surprised to find the latter
far outnumbered the former.

So I tried to even things out,
and more of the former bought,
until somehow they numbered
the same as the other.

Now .  .  .

 

I've lost count of how many
books I have of poetry.
Likewise of how many
I have of comics' biographies.

But now I don't really care
if each set equals the other.
Still I can't help but wonder:
Which is sadder?

Dedicated to the late Robin Williams (comedian, actor, wrestler, among others), and the others... 

Robin Williams (July 21, 1951 - August 11, 2014)

(Photo attribution: "Robin Williams 2011a (2)" by Eva Rinaldi - →This file has been extracted from another file: Robin Williams 2011a.jpg.Flickr: Robin Williams. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Robin_Williams_2011a_(2).jpg#/media/File:Robin_Williams_2011a_(2).jpg.)

Poetry and Plumbing

A little past noon. Reading "This World: Poems by Harvey Shapiro" while seated on a short concrete fence bordering between Royal Midway Plaza building and its parking lot. Two utility men wearing green shirts printed with "Royal Midway Plaza" approach and slide off the concrete cover of the manhole, a meter and at a forty-five degree angle left of me. It reveals three big pipes and one small one, all bent downward at a ninety degree angle. I close my book and ask, "Sa tubig ba 'yan?" ("Is that for the water?" Really my way of asking, "That's not the septic tank, is it?") The older guy replies, "Yes," and tells me and his companion about fixing the water supply with plumbing jargon. He'll buy a "floater" (yes, I believe that's what he said). They leave. The manhole, with its cover slid off (and perhaps an empty tomb laid at its bottom), remains open. My book of poetry remains closed.

*  *  *

Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems). 

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City