Candle in the Water

Black Rain

2009-06-03T16:57:00.006+08:00

You murdered the mighty sun,
And drank its black blood,
Before heading to Earth’s lonely souls.

You nurtured the old hurts,
Freeing all imprisoned tears,
With your cold breath.

But they love you,
Even if you’re hurting them.

Road Less Traveled

2009-01-22T09:49:00.003+08:00

[One of my favorite poem. Really inspiring and deserves a space in my blog.]

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference

The Tyranny of My Second Thought

2008-08-20T15:12:00.005+08:00

[Reflections on losing discipline and dream-abandonment. I wrote this during the typhoon "Karen"] - 20 August 2008, Mandaluyong City

The Tyranny of My Second Thought

Looking at my feet, I walked, and did not notice the rain,
Till the gentle droplets reached my brows and fall like tears,
With clouded thoughts, I stride the deserted street,
The jeepneys were gone, and men also few.

Annoyed being ignored, the rain got furious,
I heard its million drops hit the battered asphalt,
Forming a king’s crown as its journey ends,
And in my hands I saw my dreams, abandoned like a child.

Yet blamed my other mind that fractured my resolve,
Than I reviled my existence and myself,
For subjecting my sacred vow,
Upon the tyranny of my second thought.

Regretful Mornings

2008-06-25T18:21:00.001+08:00

My precious morning was always wasted,
like a solitary dew, quickly vanished when kissed by the lazy morning sun,
without resistance, downcast and heavyhearted.
after every cold night’s drinking sessions.

Compelled by the so-called social norm,
I forced that bitter and tangy alcohol,
into my system.

Behind the false laughter and merrymaking,
and meaningless conversation,
interrupted only by the constant passing of cigarette smoke,
which makes me feel like I am in a gas chamber,
I stayed.
Took the "shots",
Inhaled the smoke,
and lost consciousness.

I felt like I am the king of the world,
I can say and do everything.
I don’t care if I’m hurting someone or
If I’m hurting myself.

The most degrading moment you can have,
is when you lose control over your thoughts,
over your words,
over your actions.

And then I always woke up,
With a terrible headache,
trying to remember what happened,
which always fails,
Ended up,
wasted,
sad,
sick,
full of regrets.

My Circular Path

2007-04-16T10:31:00.000+08:00

[I wrote this poem while I'm reflecting on my bad habits.]

Under a cup of moonlight,
I saw my reflection,
And felt the painful journey of a tear,
From my blinded eyes,
Hurting my heart as it glides
Down to a solitary bonsai leaf.

I am like a foolish moth,
Who keeps on returning,
Around a sinful candle flame,
No matter how blinding,
No matter how painful,
I keep repeating my mistakes.

In my foolishness,
I create a circular path,
Going nowhere,
Like the waning crescent moon,
Struggling to shine in its brightest,
Only to return to painful darkness.

The hardest part in life’s journey,
Is when you keep starting over,
And later realize that you are lost,
In the loop you created,
No beginning and no end.

Like a stupid blind man,
I took a few steps only to fall into a sad ravine,
I picked myself up and climb back,
Took a few steps again,
Only to fall into that same sad ravine.

I am heading into a crisis,
Chasing the years of my life,
In that dark circle,
With purpose and dreams,
But without courage and self-discipline.

Do I have to wait,
For me to get drowned in my tears,
Forever dreaming under the cold moonlight,
Motionless like a lifeless and forsaken bonsai,
Eternally drifting in my never ending path.

Weak Heart

2007-03-27T17:41:00.000+08:00

[This poem was written based on my continous flow of thought during my sad state. I still need to do some editing on this one but posted it anyway.]

Mine is a weak heart,
and a corrupted thought,
and reasons failed me,
and the strength, that I picked up
and collected for many days,
vanished,
like a lonely fog,
killed by the happy morning sun.

No, I was not afraid,
I even brought to life,
My dead self that I buried a long time ago.
I keep bringing him to life.
To once again feel the hatred, the terrible pain,
And the longing to be loved and accepted,
Because,
Mine is a weak heart,
and a corrupted thought,
and reasons failed me.

Why does it feel good,
To do foolish things,
Knowing that foolishness leads to suffering.

That same event, like de javu,
always leads to death,
To unfruitful day and long hours of stagnation.
It kills not only my productivity but also my dreams.
Dreams that are very important to me.

Maybe God is missing.
Maybe my strength of thoughts is not enough.
I need spiritual strength to keep me whole.
To keep me going without surrender.
But I don’t know where to start.
A prayer perhaps?
It seems like I no longer know how to pray.
I JUST STARED BLANKLY INTO SPACE.
Emotionally battered. Lost in thought.
Thinking nothing.
A state where you just float,
And let your mind talk to you.
Without focus.
Without self.
Hollow.
Sad.

Our Town Beach

2004-04-16T18:25:00.001+08:00

[This poem was inspired by the town beach in Paluan, Occidental Mindoro where I used to play during my childhood days and cool & romantic place where I hang out together with my friends during vacation. It was originally posted in http://tarangkahan.bravehost.com/boardwalk.html . I edited some lines and included the Wawa place (a portion of the beach where there are two hills ana a favorite dating place)]

Its gentle breeze, carried by tender wind,
Carved a niche, in my troubled mind.
As the salty vapors, escapes the jovial waves,
Soon reached my skin, making me alive.

The peaceful water, caressing the sailing Paraw,
Is a nostalgic opera, which ends in a gentle bow,
And the vast, blue sky, blanketed by holy clouds,
Hides all the imperfections, like a thousand shrouds.

As the towering Calavite, wash his feet in the lagoon-like sea,
Wild birds fly and sing, like violins in an open marquee.
Have you ever noticed, how the waves gently kissed the pearly shells,
Like a long lost love, inseparable like the Wawa hills.

Ode to Olive

2002-02-03T12:42:00.000+08:00

[For my high-school friend and first crush, Olivia Pacheco. Olive changed her religion from Catholic to a "Christian" and some of her close friends are criticizing her. She asks me how I feel about her decision and I wrote a poem for her in reply. Written on Feb 3, 2002 (Olive's Boarding House - Sampaloc ]

She's a girl with a defiant heart,
that makes a wild flower to wither,
and make each pollen fly,
to the burdened hearts,
where it will grow,
and make them smile to the truth.

We're sailing on the same river,
until she gets tired of the games,
that people play.
Like a lonely gray cloud,
on a lonely gray sky,
that turns into a beautiful rainbow,
giving the crying sky,
new color,
renewed hope,
and meaning.

When you look into her eyes,
it will tell you,
that the sun never sets.
It will tell you,
how to love the cold pebbles,
and the unfriendly waves,
of the sinful sea.

Only a fool coudn't see,
the changes in her.
But she's still old Olive,
who just got a brand new heart.

A Friend and Her Voice

2000-04-18T11:58:00.000+08:00

[I wrote this poem for my phonepal and first girlfriend (Grace of PUP) during the time when texting and e-mails are not yet a trend. We got to know each other thru phonecalls which sometime took nine hours]

Friendship made my heart to ache,
because every sweet goodnight is such a sweet
sorrow.
Exchanging thoughts is a pleasant break,
and hours of sweet nothing seems no
tomorrow.

A day is incomplete when I didn't hear you laughing,
and your voice is a cute song,
that I dream to be mine.
If I ever see your smile, I guess I will stop breathing,
that I've learned to love your voice,
hope you believe that line.

Friendship often ends in love, I'm sure,
but love in friendship would never be.
And I fear love sometimes injure,
that's why getting involve is a crazy thing for me.