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.

a glance

In two

seconds

I looked,

you saw.

Our eyes—

we met

like two

bubbles

combined.

In two

seconds

we were

just one

I give

myself

to you.

It then

ended—

pop!

pop!

In two

seconds

I lived

and died

with you.

a hades mistake

CONDEMNED!!! to roll,

                              rroll, ro-oll,

                                           rrrrOwll…

a BIG boulderrrrrr up-up-up

heaving and sweating

and breeeeeeathing deeeeeeeep and

e x h a l i n g sssllooowwlllyyy…

                                           until

                                you

                   reach

         the

top

of the hill on the underworld—

then the task of sweat and tears

falls down to waste as

you let the

            big fat

                     rock

                          go—

                               roll,

                                 rrowwling..

                                     rolled down

fast(ittooklesstimethanwhenyourolledit)

beautifully and gracefully it

looked like a

drop

of the nectar in the

                       highest mountain

where gods live and bask

in immortality and you

live your sentence in hell

as a reward in punishment

as you

                         see

Persephone’s sad face

                        brighten up

smiling and laughing at the foolish wise you.

 

Note: Here’s one of my poems. It’s based on a Greek Myth. I’ve tried to experiment a lot here. I don’t know, it’s also some kind of legendizing the myth of Sisyphus. The man condemned to roll a rock to a hill in the underworld only to let it roll back down again.

the kiss

Bottle on the
table, half-filled
with water.

Thirsty Amy
approaches the
bottle.

Her lips touch
the opening and
she drinks.

Jim shows up
smiles. She has
kissed him through

The bottle of
clear mineral
water.

Structuralism Notes:
The structure of this poem is somehow derived from the example of John Donne’s metaphysical poem The Flea. In this case, the conceit is actually the bottle of water in the table that both Amy and Jim partook of. Despite the differences of the form, there are still structural similarities like the male’s will to dominate the female and the phallic symbol which is the bottle also suggest meaning to the poem.

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!

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.
 

master ee cummings

There is nobody like ee cummings! I mean it. Among the many poets I truly admire, he is really stands out. His poetry is like none other. Everything in his love poems are new that they are almost music. What first attracted me was his deviation to the proper structure of grammar. He breaks language like he breaks glass and the shattered pieces are beautiful!

You don’t even have to ponder to is with so much effort. The poems reeks with charisma and style that would definitely blow your mind. It blew mine. Try to google him and his poems in the net. If you want to be in love, learn cummings. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

Here’s one of my favorite poems made by him (soooo beautiful):

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)