thedreamer learnstowrite

A clean piece of paper laid in front of me, waiting to be written on, but my mind was filled with air- I was having it again- another writers block. Though the tip of my pencil seemed so eager and ready to put words in that paper, not one escaped through me. “Of the million things in this world worth writing about, why can’t you think of one?,” I impatiently asked myself. Everything was ready; everything was there-the eagerness, the excitement, the passion- everything, but the words… I stared to nowhere for sometime, somehow looking for an inspiration.

  I scanned my surroundings and lazily read the titles of the books that stood mockingly at my study table…”Oh God, please give me at least one-sixteenth of that inspiration you gave Stephanie Mayer, J.K Rowling or even that of Jane Austen,” I silently prayed, a few moments passed and still none, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath…when an abandoned abused notebook caught my eyes.

 I felt a sudden rush of excitement through my veins. At the back of my mind, I knew I recognized the notebook. Deep inside me, I feel some kind of happiness seeing it. Somehow, it was memorable. I grabbed it unconsciously and started scanning it. It was nothing very special looking- it had no cover and looked haggard as the papers were yellowish. I examined it and saw, written in crappy hand writing, my first collection of poems…. and it all came back to me.

 It was in third grade when I had to transfer to my new school- away from my circle of friends, and away from my comfort zone. I wasn’t really very enthusiastic in my studies that time and there was nothing particular in my mind... until that faithful day when our Civics teacher asked us to make a poem about nature.

 At first, I wasn’t really excited about it. To me, it was just a requirement a student must submit to earn a grade. Life was that simple for me. But I couldn’t explain how overwhelmed I felt while I was writing that poem. Thousands of ideas collided in my mind. Words kept flooding around me and there I discovered the passion.

 Whether my teacher commended my work or not, I don’t know, but I didn’t stop there- I wrote like I’ve never written before, I’ve learned to write different things, and in different ways. Somehow, it changed me- I felt enthusiasm in most of the things I do. I started to see the world in a different light as I explore new things through my compositions.

 I thought of this as I sat there. I smiled as I remembered all those years. And I felt something so intense… Inspiration? I don’t know. Passion? I’m not sure. It was spreading throughout my body and burning throughout my soul- it’s inexplicable. It was drowning me again, but at the same time it made me fly… then, I realized I finished it- my essay.

 It was like de javu. The feeling was familiar… one which I had already felt before; Still overwhelmed, I stared at my paper and through my crappy penmanship I read to myself the composition I just wrote… “A clean piece of paper laid in front of me….”

I am sick to the pit of my stomach

as you turn my words into sparks

that ignite the dynamite wick

you've cleverly placed against the tip of my tongue

as if you knew that at some point

I will be the one to light it

It was your rage, your battles, your bombs

and I was caught in a crossfire--

the land that knew the troubles the left had

and the struggles the right endured:

we were a country bound by affinity

And yet the scene was you

it was always a fight to triumph:

one always has to win,

no compromises or in-betweens

nevermind the bodies, the bloodshed, the burns

nevermind the wounds, the faces, the hurt

nevermind the entirety of the rest of the earth

I was the land between: laid bare

where living things could no longer fare

on gunpowdered resentments

and sharpnels of doubt--

your poisons:

pure, potent, and permanent

this was the moment both of you wanted:

a dynamite explosion is the gunfire that begins the race

it just had to be my voice that starts it

because I am just a ground for slaughter

I write better on paper

because my inscriptions

are not daunted

by a blinking cursor,

but live on ink:

where dashed words are like dead timber on the embankment, now irrelevant--

but still visible, still within hand's reach;

A glint of hope,

just incase I lose the stream of words

to the undercurrent they call "imposter syndrome"

#tula #ofw #filipinopoetry #sabado

Nagising ako isang araw, kamakailan:

Napamasid sa paligid,

natigilan at napaisip

"Nasaan ba ako ngayon?"

At sa unang pagkakataon

Makalipas ang maikling panahon,

Naramdaman ko ang lungkot na dala

Ng katahimikang saaki'y bumungad.

Hangin sa bintana kong bukas ang siyang nagpabatid:

Oo nga pala, Wala ako sa Pilipinas;

Walang tunog ng jeep o trasikel man lang sa labas,

Walang kapit-bahay na nagsasampay,

O sumusuway sa mga alagang makukulit,

Walang tunog nang naglilinis o nagsitsimis

Ngunit bakit ko naman 'yun mamimiss?

Ang malakas na tunog ng radyo ni Tatay panggising...

Bombo radyo, o diskong palaging naririnig

O kaya ang daing ni Nanay na sanay

Palaging maagang magising, maligo't magsaing.

Ang bigat ni bunsong dadagan sa'yo

Para piliting makipaglaro, tutal, "sabado naman po."

Hanggang sa mamaya, sa pagod mo nalang

Ay sasabihing, matutulog pa, at babawi nalamang

Sa pagbili ng tingitinging paburito n'yang kendi

Sa may tabing tindahan,

sabay maalalang

Magbabayad pala dapat ng mga nakalistang utang

Bilang kahapon lang ang sahuran.

Simple lang ang buhay doon,

Kaunting salapi ang kita, salat madalas

Ngunit kahit papa'no'y kinakaya naman.

Sinuwerte lang nang makatapak

Sa yaring sulok ng bansang kinaroroonan

Upang makipagsapalaran

Sa mga konspto at mga dayuhang

Malayo sa nakasanayan.

Ito na ako ngayon:

Mukhang marangya sa malayo,

Ngunit sa katahimikan ang bungad ng Sabado,

Ramdam ko ang puwang

na dala ng kakulangan

ng mga Ingay at tunog na nakagisnan

mula sa buhay sa Bayang aking tahanan

-

Nagising ako isang araw, kamakailan:

Napamasid sa paligid,

natigilan at napaisip

"Nasaan ba ako ngayon?"

At sa unang pagkakataon

Makalipas ang maikling panahon,

Naramdaman ko ang lungkot na dala

Ng katahimikang saaki'y bumungad.

Hangin sa bintana kong bukas ang siyang nagpabatid:

Oo nga pala, Wala ako sa Pilipinas;

Walang tunog ng jeep o trasikel man lang sa labas,

Walang kapit-bahay na nagsasampay,

O sumusuway sa mga alagang makukulit,

Walang tunog nang naglilinis o nagsitsimis

Ngunit bakit ko naman 'yun mamimiss?

Ang malakas na tunog ng radyo ni Tatay panggising...

Bombo radyo, o diskong palaging naririnig

O kaya ang daing ni Nanay na sanay

Palaging maagang magising, maligo't magsaing.

Ang bigat ni bunsong dadagan sa'yo

Para piliting makipaglaro, tutal, "sabado naman po."

Hanggang sa mamaya, sa pagod mo nalang

Ay sasabihing, matutulog pa, at babawi nalamang

Sa pagbili ng tingitinging paburito n'yang kendi

Sa may tabing tindahan,

sabay maalalang

Magbabayad pala dapat ng mga nakalistang utang

Bilang kahapon lang ang sahuran.

Simple lang ang buhay doon,

Kaunting salapi ang kita, salat madalas

Ngunit kahit papa'no'y kinakaya naman.

Sinuwerte lang nang makatapak

Sa yaring sulok ng bansang kinaroroonan

Upang makipagsapalaran

Sa mga konspto at mga dayuhang

Malayo sa nakasanayan.

Ito na ako ngayon:

Mukhang marangya sa malayo,

Ngunit sa katahimikan ng bungad ng Sabado,

Ramdam ko ang puwang ng mga

Ingay at tunog

mula sa buhay sa Bayang aking tahanan

#tula #ofw #filipinopoetry

Of the things that could go wrong along the way”

You would sing to me each night like a lullaby

And I would start to snooze as you hit the notes tugging each sweet sound

With a mellow whispering voice at the end of the line;

This is one of those days I wanted to tell you

“Please, don’t hang up”

Because you might as well be giving me the stars right now

Stars I look for in every night sky--

Stars I used to ask myself about,

Do they make twinkling sounds at all?

But you would laugh, ruining the moment

Just before you finish singing the chorus

Segue-ing to how corny you think the song is

And I would’ve said “No, I like it” but I underestimate my revolt with a sigh,

Maybe I should have said it

Maybe then I could start to tell you how good those songs sounded

And let you laugh at my choice of music

Instead of agreeing to every little thing you say

Just so you would like me;

Maybe then I would have gotten it out of the way,

Saw what you would say

And get over myself asking all these “what ifs”

What if you knew that I was this humanoid

Trying hard to be human

And that I know nothing about make up

Or cool songs?

That all the songs I learned to play in the guitar

Were the ones I carefully chose

Because I like the way it sounded

And I like what they try to say?

That I wasn’t really that clever girl in school,

Instead a daughter that felt obligated to please

And a student who needs to work hard for what she gets?

What if I was the "unflitered" me that spoke to the real you?

What if I said “I don’t like cursing”

Because I didnt think it was cool,

And all the other little things I pretended to like just because you were you,

And I was "just me"?

Maybe then I could have been given the hint

To start THE conversation

You dont want to hear:

Then I can say, that I AM

I come to you

From the rubbles you left me in

Broken, bruised and burnt,

But much wiser and learned,

To say I now forgive

For I too, am a sinner,

dear love,

Don't get stuck

In that corner

You were not meant

To stand on,

Find a way

To turn yourself around.

Keep fighting,

Teeth clenched

Knees straight,

Eyes steady,

searching

For that light of an exit

In this endless maze

To say

"goodbye"

Walking the walk

Talking the talk

Today, we do the same:

Just like yesterday,

Pretending

Everything is okay

Minimizing the squints

You feel like doing

When nobody seems to notice,

Taking less toilet breaks:

So that you are not left alone

In a silent room

That can echo the sound of your voice

And heed to that desperate desire

To bawl your eyes out

Because you always

Feel

like

crying...

Come on, Stop.

Swallow it all.

Gulp.

Inhale, exhale slowly.

One step closer each time

To the best version of me;

But the challenge remains

As the day closes in

And I am left alone

In my own company;

A faint voice says

"calm down. Rest."

As my head fills with loud cheers

Of anxiety

"we will be okay"

Night by night we will concentrate

On the faintest voice

With words

Of Apologies,

Anger,

And arrogance,

When I know

It will take time,

Persistence,

And love

To fill the hole

You left behind