published!

Yey! I’m now published! A big whop-dee-doo for me!

Published online that is. Hehe.. Well, technically speaking, I’ve been published online since I’ve started posting in this blog but this time, some of my works are actually published on sites that aren’t really mine.

In other words, I’ve managed to contribute some of my poems on websites for other people to see!

Check out some of my works in these links:

1. Silver Ring Tanka. Like many of my other submitted works, this is conceptualized and made as an excercise in my Creative Writing 101 Class. The form this work takes is a tanka which is like a haiku with an extension. This tanka talks about loneliness and some musings.
2. Cresent. This is probably my first published image poem! And it depicts a woman’s breast. An image poem is a poem which takes a certain shape through its words. A figure seems to surface through the words as arranged by the poet.
3. Planter. You might find this poem interesting for you. The character in the poem himself is a representation of the unknown figure behind the Filipino legends that usually ends up with a fruit growing on the soil where the hero was buried. I do hope you like this one.
4. Reading Jack. This is probably my ugliest short story ever. And I do mean ugly! I’ve used the concept of the grotesque in one of the characters in the story. The story is only below a hundred words. I also played with the way I described things without using the sense of sight.
5. A Visit. Now this is a long five-paged article reviewing Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Heck, I decided to just post it and see the chances of it being read by other student writers. It’s not really much. It’s actually quite simple and common. And I still don’t know the grade it got from my British Literature professor.

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.

proetry and poese

After taking up CW101 under Prof. Jhoanna Cruz, we’re expected to have decided to the form of genre we’re suppose to focus at. In Creative Writing, we’ve got a lot to choose from. Being a fanatic of this course, I’m actually having this dilemma of what to focus on.

I’m lousy at playwriting! That’s a fact. At first, I was still optimistic in trying it out. I did try my best but I guess it just wasn’t for me. I don’t know. It’s the genre of being in the stage. The fact that the considerations that it’s to be performed rather than be read is quite new to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like staged plays. I actually had my share of experience in performing on stage in my younger days. But the writing of the play itself, hmmmm… I think it’s a no-no for me.

On the other hand, I guess I can consider myself to be a reasonably fair fiction writer. hehe. I mean, I’ve made stories that clicked. They’re not that good but I guess people found some potential in the writing. To be honest, I tend to get material to man’s best friend–the television. That’s the reason why my first short stories were kind of cinematic in a way. I like writing stories. Short stories or short short stories/flash fictions. The thing about fiction is the fact that I have the chance to explain myself in a prosaic way which is quite comfortable.

Poetry, however, is something exotic yet mysterious genre for me. And I’m quite thrilled in learning it. Unlike fiction, I find poetry more difficult and less comfortable. The choice of words, the tone, rhythm, rhyme, meter and other technicalities or non-techinalities are like strings tangled together in my mind. And the thing is, I love it! I love the feeling of playing with words and I kind of feel like I’m falling in love with poetry.

So it’s either fiction or poetry. Where should I focus and concentrate? I like both. I can be good at both. But there’s this feeling that only one should precede the other in my choice. What? Help me.

Poetry or Prose.

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.
 

haiku: the biggest poem

 

Furu ike ya
kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto

This haiku by Matsuo Basho is the most popular haiku known in the literary world in English. R. H. Blyth translated it this way:

The old pond;
A frog jumps in —
The sound of the water.

Like I said, this poem is very popular. It has been translated in different ways but the intent of Basho could be understood. Along with the poet Ricardo de Ungria and my other blockmates, we discussed the said poem over a workshop facilitated by the Davao Writers Guild which is actually sponsored by the NCCA.

The Frog haiku has become a very common for us Creative Writing Students. It is as if the poem itself became a cliche. But after discussing it with Sir Ricky, we found out the magnificence of it. Just basing in the exact words and the connotations it beheld, we were able to determine the haiku’s essence.

Old pond connotes the pond to be arid or barren. It is an assumption that we develop whenever we know of an ancient pond. Then comes this frog who enters the scene, jumping. We can see the disturbance he made. Vital part is the sound of water.

Where did the water came from?

Now we understand that the poem actually talks about discovery and surprise. Another haiku we tackled before we ended was by Arakide Moritake. The haiku reads:

A cherry petal
flies back up to its branch—
oh, a butterfly!

This poem also talks about surprise and discovery. But Moritake’s haiku also generates the idea we really can relate at—disappointment. The wonder of cherry petals going back to its branch captured the speaker’s delight. But the discovery of the petals being butterflies and the mystery being explained brought disappointment.

A big WOW! Poetry has become a very interesting form of literature for me. I’m still starting to write there. I’ve been writing prose for a while now but I really am very excited to do poetry.

I’d like to thank Ate Chi for making things possible with Sir Ricky and for my blockmates for being there in the workshop. The workshop is still starting so I couldn’t actually write anything accurate about it yet.

In parting I would like to leave a haiku for you to ponder, please comment on what you think!

Spare the fly!
he prays with his hands
he prays with his feet

-Kobayashi Issa-

 

mono syllables

Monologues!

We’re really really going a bit fast in our class now. I just finished my flash fiction for our midterm project and I hope it’s good. How does the Red and Purple Darkness sound as a title? I like it. Mainly because I made it. Hah! I’m loving my own.

It’s a story about a certain Dondi who is actually my classmate’s own character given to me. Dondi is this kid who appoints himself as the Protector of his Ate Nadia. They had a very traumatic past together because of their father’s abuse, etc. I won’t spoil the fun. I plan on having it published in Dagmay which I think is a section in a local paper facilitated by the Davao Writers Guild. I’m crossing my fingers here.

Back to my thoughts in my first paragraph, Monologues! I have no background in playwriting. Seriously. I do act in plays in the school but I don’t exactly have the experience in writing one. I never really imagined myself writing a play. Wow, everything is going so fast now.

After playwriting we’ll have poetry. Now that’s something I really am looking forward. I really love this course. I really feel good studying the things which really are interesting for me. I am going to like this.

Sinews and Syllables. Now that’s a drag. It’s a production supposedly for BAEnglish students to participate on. Last year’s Sinews and Syllables was a blast. It even had an article in the paper. This year, the faculty were really planning to make it better. I have no objections for that, what I really am skeptic about is the fact that they asked me to be a performer! Why? Because they think that I’m inseparable to Darsi who by the way is my fraternity brother and constant companion. He actually did a great job in interpreting ee cummings‘ I like my body poem.

Excited us.