huge crush on andrea corr

When it comes to music, I’ve got a gender preference. Haha. No, I don’t know why. No, I don’t mean to offend or anything. I don’t even know if it’s offending to some people.

I love music. Who doesn’t right? I learned in one of my classes in criticism that music is regarded to be the best of all art forms. It could be debatable to a lot of artists out there but the reason given to me was quite satisfactory in my standards.

Music was considered the best of all art forms because of its nature. No medium was needed in comprehending music. Paintings needed to be interpreted from its canvas to be appreciated. Literary texts need to be analyzed from the paper. Music, however, is simply to be experienced. We no longer need to analyze or criticize music anymore. We simply let it flow into our ears. That’s it!

Going back to the gender issue at hand. Well, I don’t know if I’m offending anybody about my preference. Most likely not. I’m far from being a misogynist or a chauvinist, believe me. I like women of course. As a matter of fact, that’s the reason why I prefer women vocalist than men.

I mean it.

In my eighteen years of existence in this world, I have developed a “taste” towards female singers. Their different from male singers, of course. That alone could be reason why male and female are divided into alto, soprano, tenor and base. Don’t ask me any technicalities there, I’m not really good at Music back in my elementary years.

I just like the way women sing. The sound is just so beautiful to my hearing. I like the Corrs. They’re like the

smile of the grotesque

What would you do when you see a perfect nobody? Who is she to you?

She is nothing but a simple smile. Nothing but a two-second memory that seems to haunt your every hour. A curse. Her face is the face of a curse that you seem to crave for. Everything about her. Terrible things await.

My metal bonds are but chains of thread as she pull me. And I willingly beat myself to torment as she bites her lower lip like she’s unsure. Playing the dangerous game of uncertainty. And she wins everytime.

I no longer know her. But when did I know her? I don’t know her. But maybe… I know her.

Her face, her eyes, her nose and her smile. Oh that wretched and wonderful smile. The smile that burns the passion within my cold blank heart.

And then, I bleed.

birthmark

Both of your shoulders

covered with light

brown skin

that I wish I did not

kiss

when we were alone

together.

They are like two

conquering hands

clutching you

always—

not

letting go.

It has been there years

before I came

to you.

When will I ever

rid of

the light brown

skin, I would like to

get a thin white

knife

and

pierce your

soft plump skin

down to its

firm flesh.

I envy the

mark

that has

rested

around your

shoulders since your

birth.

not travelling

Here’s another one of my most favorite poems by master ee cummings. I remember my classmate Aaron presenting this poem in front of our class for our American Literature Class. I have to hand it to him. Even our professor, Dr. Genevieve Jorolan-Quintero remarked that the way he performed it was so good that it felt that it was the poet cummings himself was reciting his poem to us. A big hand for Aaron!  

somewhere i have never travelled

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

ee cummings

how i read a poem

There’s no definite way of reading a poem. There are a lot of critical approaches but the way to read the poem is always subjective. In my AH4, our instructor JC managed to simplify things in her own way. On my CL121 with Sir John and CL122 with Sir Nino, things got a little complicated.

Let’s not complicate ourselves. Here’s what I’ve learned in reading poetry. Here are some rough tips in reading poetry. If you see it defective, I would be more than glad to hear from you.

In reading poetry I…

…better be in a good mood. It’s hard reading poems when you’re distracted.

…read it first. I don’t try to understand it all at once. I just read it and let the words flow. Then, I read it again. And again. And again. I guarantee on your second reading, you’ll see a different poem.

…concentrate on the text first. It is important to look at the poem in a literary basis. Do not jump to conclusions or derive meaning just yet. If the poem said “the rose was torn and ravished”, don’t think of an abused woman just yet. Instead try focusing on the image of the flower torn into pieces.

…take note of the how the poem was written. Look at the line breaking, they actually mean something. Is there a rhyming scheme? Is there a meter followed? How many stanzas or how many lines? Is it a sonnet or an epic?

…depict a setting or a scene. The poem should have one. Feed on images. Where are they? What are they doing. What are the things around them that’s telling you that they’re in a cemetery, hospital, school, cabaret, house or hell? Try to figure out who is the speaker. On verbal address poems, try to figure out the addressee.

…check the symbols. What do they stand for? What could a flower, necklace, wolf, clock, elevator, angel, monster or drop of water mean? Try not restricting yourself to one line of thinking.

…capture the emotions. You’ll get it through the poem’s tone and the way the speaker is talking. Most importantly, try to relate that emotion with yourself. Did you also lose your mother? Did you also skin your cat alive? Did you manage to cut yourself into pieces? Did you ever talked with an alien? Something like that.

…learn more about the theme of the poem. Is it about drugs, sex and rock & roll? Is it about death or time? Is it about rejection or loss? What do you think the author is trying to tell you?

…understand the author and the time. Who is the author? Where did he live? What century did he live on? Why do you think he wrote the poem? Was he inspired by his one night stand with a complete stranger? Did he lose his wife? Or did he really make a poem for his books to sell?

…know if there are other poems like it? Then I compare and contrast them.

Those are some of my tips for now. I really have this feeling that I missed some important points. But generally that’s it! I’ll post another post like this if I remember some points.

I hope this helps!

purple pad craze!

I just realize something. For the past few months, I’ve been discussing a lot about Creative Writing and other related and/or unrelated stuff. But I still haven’t even given you a chance to see some of my works. Well, to make it up to you, I’ve got great news!

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to PurplePad!

PurplePad is our Creative Writing Blogsite featuring our works for the past semesters. Yes, it’s a requirement but I would have done one like it anyway. It’s all Professor Jhoanna’s idea to publish our works online.

On that site we’ve got collections of poems (narrative poems, mytho-poems and tankas), flash fictions and memoirs! It’s a one-stop amateur literary site.

Authors or my classmates and I have our own page with direct links to their works. You’ll definitely see their faces there! Learn more about them and get aquainted to the budding writers of the century (hehe..)!

Our teachers and mentors are also listed there. We couldn’t have done it without them.

We’d really want comments and criticisms from anyone who can spare some. Writers actually love them. They hurt sometimes but we like it! It helps us in our writing if people read and critique our works.

Check it out! PurplePad!

when with her

Here are some of the ways on how I behave whenever I’m with crushes. No, I’m not courting them. I wouldn’t want to. I simply want to settle in the getting-to-know stage. It works, sometimes.

1. Send her message after message. Through email or through text, it doesn’t matter. Make use of the darn technology we have today. But then you could always use the old fashion style like sending it through a cute kid or leaving it on her desk or something.

2. Stalk her. I mean it. Study her every move. You must know the essential things about her and the things that only few people know. Be prepared. You must know what color she likes. What attitudes she abhors and the way she ties her shoelace. Do not court her unless you know the name of her parent’s only child that is not her sibling.

3. When you’re with her, always talk about her. Her, her, her. The spotlight is always on her. She’s the star! Whenever she changes the topic to you, divert the topic back to her. Notice the every little things she does. Compliment her hair, her look, her voice. Flatter her. Flatter with style. Do not be obvious when lying.

4. Do not crowd her. She wouldn’t like it. Don’t send her 214 text messages a day! Do not go and chase her. Don’t be there always. When you’re in a photo exhibit, do not watch at the same picture she’s looking at. Catch her eye when she’s a distance away, don’t look at her when she’s near.

5. Listen. Let her talk a lot. Don’t interrupt her. Nod on the right times. Give good opinions. Let her know you’re listening. Make her feel that you’re interested on everything she says. 

6. Surprise her. Everything must be new! Or rather make it in such a way that old things seem new to her. Surprise her everyday!

neruda’s turtle

Here’s one of my favorite poems by Don Pablo Neruda. I like it because of the character in the poem which is, of course, a turtle. The metaphor of the turtle tells us a lot about life. Here’s The Turtle by Pablo Neruda translated by Jodey Bateman.

The Turtle

The turtle who
walked so long
and saw so much
with
his
ancient
eyes,
the turtle
who ate
olives
from the deepest
sea,
the turtle who swam
for seven centuries
and knew
seven
thousand
springtimes,
the turtle
hooded
against
the heat
and  cold,
against
sunrays and waves,
the yellow
turtle
plated
with severe
amber
scales
and feet for catching prey,
the turtle
stopped
here
to sleep
and didn’t know it.
So old
that he kept
getting harder,
he quit
loving the waves
and became rigid
like a clothing iron.
He closed
the eyes which
had defied
so much
sea, sky, time and earth,
and went to sleep
among the other
stones.
 

you pretty you

It’s funny, ladies here in the Philippines spend a lot to buy whitening lotions while ladies in the US spend a lot on tanning lotions. Beauty products has always been there since the olden times. There has been evidence that cosmetics has been existing since 4000 BC on Egypt. Greeks and Romans has been using them since the ancient times. Fragrances like frankinscence and myrrh are even mentioned in the Bible!

In India, people used henna for dying their hair. Chinese used beeswax, gelatin, gum and even egg to stain their fingernails! Japanese geishas used crushed petals of safflowers as lipsticks and make-up!

Cosmetics has been around for many centuries now. Beauty has been a very prominent topic for poets like Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, William Wordsworth and probably every other poets in the canon.

I guess what cosmetics aim is to preserve the youthful beauty one has. Age will always be there. What these beauty products do is to delay the signs of aging in one’s appearance. And you know what? There’s nothing wrong about it.

If you want to know more anti-aging information and to find the latest products in the market that suits your interest, try stopping by this dremu website.