The Poetry of Asterisk

[asterisk]

HIS LOVES

His loves
Are counted
As the pimples
Of his face.
Some of them red
And hot to the skin,
Too much oil,
Too much undiscipline.
Some of them squeezed,
Those little premature
Rascals that leave
Stubborn scars
Reminiscent of
Youth's rowdy ways.


OLD HOUSE

As paint peels off the old house,
Familiar faces peel off the windows
And are gone.
When I come back,
I shrivel at the blank dark
That stares out of the windows.
Shriveled leaves scrape
The cement path to the doorsteps
Where years have grown thick and rambling.
In the hallways, memories echo.
Outside, chimes drop icy tinklings.
Again and again, I come back
To this place
To collect the traces of faces
I held of my childhood
And each time,
I become more of a stranger to this
Lonely, lonely structure.


IN THE ATTIC OF MY MIND

At times,
your careless words
are old curtains flapping
in a small window
rippling the light
that pools around me
that I can't mind
my writing.
I try to catch
and tie them
but they slip away
and turn into something else:
rats that scurry
and are pesky
in the attic of my mind.


BENJAMIN

Benjamin spoke that night
Of mountains and moons.
The waiters have stacked the chairs up
As he tried to melt ice like mountains in gin
And swallow bitter slices of lime like moons.

His heavy brows upon my hands told of
The heights he scaled.
But the moon has left him
Alone among the canyons.

I kept him in my arms,
The boy who cried for the moon.
I would have kept him.

Such a boy, Benjamin.
Such a man, Benjamin.

[Zen]

Naks naman :)

*sigh* may naalala ako... *reminiscing* :(

[§ínned™]

Hey there asterisk! I still remember those poems. Rei told me about your relatively new short story (I just forgot the title).

Post your Gantimpalang Ani award-winning short story here. Do you still join Palanca?

§inned™

[wAgKaNgMaKuLiT]

hey, not bad.
actually, it's more than that.
it should be, "real nice poems"

http://www.pinoyexchange.com/icons/icon14.gif http://www.pinoyexchange.com/icons/icon14.gif
Two Thumbs Up!

[asterisk]

Thanks....

Sinned, medyo mahaba para i-post and this is purely for my poetry. Maybe I'll create "The Stories of Asterisk." Abangan niyo na lang. Will I join the Palanca? Well, I'll tell if I win.

Read On!

[asterisk]

IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES


This is how I see our lives,
Father, Mother:
To work, to see sons off, and die.
And the cycle of our lives
Will always be kept religiously
In the sense of propriety:
Son is son.
Parent is parent.
Matters of duty
Keep us close under a roof;
Beams and posts creak containing
The distances of our hearts.
We are exacted by
The language of our existence:
"Clean the rooms," "Wash the dishes,"
"Don't fight with your brothers,"
"Study this, study hard."
No more, no less.

But your son has learned a new language.
The strange language breeds in him
Like butterflies in the fields.
And each time he speaks,
A flutter of colors come out of his mouth.
Each night in its depth,
He catches them
Fashioning eternity in pieces of rice paper.
But you think this as affliction
And pray to the household gods,
The gods you only know,
For all you want to know.
You light a hundred incense sticks
To exorcise whatever demon
That keeps him awake nights.

Strong incense smoke
Can drive away anything:
Scent unfamiliar and unfamilial,
Flimsy color wings, fresh wisps,
Old gossamers from dark nooks,
Even blurring our faces.
But no matter, you say,
This son will be good,
Will follow his parents well:
To work, to be rich,
To make something out of this hard life,
A return he will make as duty
For all the things we did for him.

Tears well up from smoke.
Every drop from you
Will be the salt of the earth.
Every drop from me
Will grow springtime flowers.

[asterisk]

MEMORY OF A SUICIDE


The day he cut himself
His blood dripped to the ground
And each splatter became
Red, autumn leaves
That were blown by the wind.
They left no traces
Save for the increase
In the crackle of the wind.

These leaves are the kind
That do not collect around
But seem to sublimate
Into the wind's freer entity
And become the wind itself.
However, when the weather's bad,
It howls like mad.

[§ínned™]

Please post some of your Tagalog poems.

§inned™

[asterisk]

It is more accurate to say "Filipino" rather than "Tagalog."

Well...lemme see...

[§ínned™]

I am confused. What if the poetry is in Hiligaynon? You also say Filipino? So you don't say Cebuano poetry?

Request, could you post that beautiful Kandungan poem ? ;)

§inned™

[asterisk]

Filipino the adjectival term to mean the Philippines is different from Filipino the language. Philippine is the most preferred term to mean referring to the Philippines because Filipino is reserved for the people and language.

The Hiligaynon language is not the Filipino language, but is a Filipino language, more clearly, a Philippine language.

The Filipino language's main base is Tagalog but has liberal smatterings of other influences like English, Spanish, and other Philippibne dialects. It is the language we speak today. The alphabet of the Filipino is not the Abakada but the ABCD... Tagalog on the other hand is "pure" like Manolito Sulit's tagalog or Liwayway Arceo's Tagalog. Lualhati Bautista's language is Filipino. But, of course, Filipino encompasses Tagalog, so Tagalog now is called Filipino in addition to many confluences. In a sense, Tagalog now is the old term for Filipino. Well, that's more or less abou it...

Hmm "Kandungan?" Did I write such a poem. Can't remember? Anyway I'll search in my library and archive, it should be there somehow. How about posting some of yours here, Sinned?

[asterisk]

DEPARTURE AREA
(Tan Son Nhat International Airport,
HCMC, Vietnam)

I

People of different lands
Touch hands at this point
Where one sees beyond and behind
Landscapes of eternity:
Blond girls embracing
An old Vietnamese mother and friends
Offering bags of lychees
Which seep the scent of rice fields
And stores of incense and tea
In their baggage of memories
Strewn upon the floor.

II

Air thick with the scent of leaving,
Hands flourish with leaves of farewell
Shedding its own warm dew.
Goodbyes come like fragile dried leaves
In a copper autumn crackling in the wind,
Scattered upon the floor.
I must pick one for keeps.

[asterisk]

HANDURAWAN KANG PAGPAKAMATAY

Kang adlaw uga ginhiwa na ang anang kaugalingun
Nagturo ang anang dugo sa lupa
Kag ang kada turo nangin
Mapula nga dahon sa tag-irinit
Nga ginhuyup ka hangin.
Wara sanda ti ginbilin
Magluwas sa pagdugang
Kang pagragumu kang hangin.
Ang dya nga mga dahon bukun ti sahi
Nga matumpok lang
Kundi daw nagaalimunaw
Sa kahilwayan kang hangin
Kag nangin hangin man.
Ngaring kon malain ang panahon
Ang hangin nagauwang nga daw umang.

_________________________________
Kinaray-a translation of "Memory of a Suicide" by Maria Milagros Geremia Lachica

[asterisk]

KALAMUGAW

Tanan hay nagabalik sa panumdumon,
Rayang gabii, rayang tiyempo,
Rayang matsa gahigop it kape nga seremonya,
Rayang cafe, ro anang mata.
Sa sangka pagkalamugaw,
Gakahueog sanda nga matsa sensilyo
Ag gunbuhos mo gid do imong kabuhi
Sa pagkinolekta kanda
Pag-inusoy sa mga madueom-dueom nga kabinit-binitan.
O sanda hay owa ginaeauma
Nga magtunga sa idaeoum it mga butang
Pagtaliwan it pilang tyempo.
Sanda hay makaieingit nga nagakalamugaw
Sa imong nagatagong buesa.
Indi magbuhay igabaylo mo sanda
Sa kalinong it painu-ino.


_________________________________
Aklanon translation by Alex de Juan from original English "Jangle"

[asterisk]

FATHER FAR

Father was among the first
To sacrifice closeness crossing grids
For that amount of sundrop to enliven
The dampness of our familial existence.

Thirty days a year he comes
Then leaves leaving us
Clutching the vestigial warmth
On the bed he just slept in.

But we learned by and by
That the comfort we enjoyed
Of our beds must be paid
By the absence of his warmth.

And we learned to content ourselves
With the words scribbled by homesickness
Much too pulsating than ordinarily
Sent via airmail.

The story has now become commonplace:
Fathers in other places,
In some sun-and-sand country
Trade sweat and loneliness;

Fathers, like ours, who leave
To seek the light of better fortune
From which to fashion a makeshift warmth
To clothe his children with,

So we would not sun ourselves
Under an unreliable weather
But move to a weathered reliability
For he is the father who knows that

Only when the brown backs
Are bent in labor
Will they become mountains
From which the sun rises.

And cold as lizards we crawl
The ridges of our father's back
Aided by a far-reaching light
To see the empty stretch

Flower with promises and expectations.
We sallied forth eventually
But kept our bodies close to ground,
Seeking vestigial warmth.

We learned by and by to move through years
Knowing only the thirty-day warmth,
Deciphering his face in homesick scribblings
Sent via airmail.

We know we cannot get far.
When we do we will return
To catch up on growing
In the warmth of his being home.

[asterisk]

MAYBE I'VE BEEN AROUND TOO MUCH

Maybe I've been around too much.
Too much I've been around
That you can leave me without a heck
For OJ and donuts
And still find me there after a while
Whom you can count on
Company, help or anything--
Little, little things,
Little, little heroism,
Little, little sacrifices.

Maybe I've been around too much,
Too much I've been around
That I have to take emptiness
Of donut holes,
And the acid of OJ
Down my barren stomach.

Maybe I've been around too much.
Too much I've been around
That you can leave me without a heck
For OJ and donuts
And still find me there after days and years,
Maybe waiting your current fancy
To peter out, your whims
Walk out the door one by one,
Leaving you and the
Things, heroism, and sacrifices.

Maybe I've been around too much,
Too much I've been around
That I can die there on the floor
And you would not even notice
And still go out for OJ and donuts

Maybe I've been around too much.
Too much I've been around.

[§ínned™]

Asterisk, I just love the poems! *clap* So sino pinapatungkulan mo sa "MAYBE I'VE BEEN AROUND TOO MUCH"? Si Alba ba? Or the whole superfriends, inc. ;)

§inned™

[asterisk]

Who else? It's an old poem really. And then I modified it a bit to make it, well, more "universal." It can him, other friends, lovers, or you. ;)

[This message has been edited by asterisk (edited 06-07-2000).]

[asterisk]

Jangle

Everything passes into memories:
This night, this time,
This coffee-sipping ceremony,
This cafe, your eyes.
In one jangling,
They fall like coins
And you spend your lives
Collecting them
Searching the dim crannies.
Or they unexpectedly
Appear under things
After some time.
They jangle annoyingly
In your hidden pockets.
Soon you will have to trade them
For peace of mind.

[FarOutFreak]

How I wish I had your talent. These are really good.

Off to practice...

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[Loki_06]

hei asterisk!! i see you love writing poems too. and i must say..YOU'RE REALLY GOOOOD!!! astig ka.

hei, i'm thinking of collecting some poems from peeps here in pex and then publishing them in a book. what do you think? can you help me out huh?

i write poems too. let's just say that i'm still an amateur in that field. but i love writing in tagalog.

can you help me out?

[asterisk]

Sure! Hmm...in what way exactly can I be of help?

[*happy*phantom*]

I must say, these are excellent poetry.

[Moiraine]

asterisk when I was talking to you before in your Philippine Urban Legends thread I didn't know I was talking to such a talented person, ang galing mo! I don't usually read free-style poems (tama ba term?) that you seem to prefer, much less like them, but I read all of yours in one sitting (accomplishment for me :p) and really liked "Father Far" especially these lines:

"Only when the brown backs
Are bent in labor
Will they become mountains
From which the sun rises.

And cold as lizards we crawl
The ridges of our father's back"

[asterisk]

Gee, thanks, Moiraine and *happy* :)

[*happy*phantom*]

Originally posted by asterisk
Gee, thanks, Moiraine and *happy* :)

You are very much welcome. Maybe you'd like to post more of your work. I truly enjoy your poems.

[kikoy]

nice thread Asterisk, i like your poems...keep it up!

GALING!

[wulfgar]

Ang lupit mo.

Have your poems ever been compiled and published? If they have, could you please tell me the title of the compilation so I can look for it?

Breathtaking.

[asterisk]

Thanks for your kind reception! Well wulfgar, actually these poems are all published in different journals and magazines and some have been anthologigized in books. But I haven't come out with a collection yet. That will take a little longer. I am waiting for more poems to be born in my mind. And I am occupied with essays and ficition right now. I'll post here immediately when I have new ones. :)

[sadirmata]

asterisk, more of your poetry, please!

[asterisk]

sorry po, wala pang bago :)