I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness-- Jeremiah 3:3

Saturday, September 24, 2011


Must a woman hurl
All of herself,
Be measured
But found half-full?

Can’t she hand in
A piece of her territory
And content
The world?

Should she hold on
To a man’s sleeves
Or hide behind
A man’s clothing
To ride the world?

Must her soul
Take a man’s voice
To be heard,
Or must her sinews
Mesh with those of
A man’s to gird
Herself against
The wiles of her days?

Wasn’t it a woman
Who shaved a man’s head
To his death
And more?

Was it not a woman
Who sang
A familiar lullaby
As the prince of Heaven
Spent thirty-three moons
In her arms
Just to rock the dying world
On its way
To paradise’s portal?

Friday, September 23, 2011


Niabot na diay unta ka
Wa man gud ko

Dugay na ra
Ba unta
Kong nag-atang
Sa imong
Nga ako unyang

Basin tungod
Pino ang mga
Sa imong mga
Gamiting nga mga
Aw, mga tiil na
Ba kaha kadtong
Sa akong

Kung mahimo
Unta gitambid
Ko na dayon ikaw
Sa tunga-tunga sa kangitngit
Ug kadanlog
Sa imong kalibutan
Aron dinhi ikaw

Wa ka nadakin-as
Ug mubiya
Sa akong
Giandam nga
Sa dugay nang

Miikyas ang
Imong gininhawa
Palayo sa akong
Wa gani nako
Arun sapnayon
Ug itisok pagbalik
Ug alimahon.

Wa ko man lang
Ug mahalok-halokan
Ang wala pa gani
Mahulma mong
Mga aping.

Ka pa ug dugay-dugay
Sa sulod
Ning namugnaw
Nga balay-balay
Ikaw suginlan
Sa mga parayeg
Ug uraray ni
Cinderella ug
Snowhite sa ilang
Mga prinsipe
Aron ikaw mahinanok
Pa gyud hangtod sa
Sa ika-syam ka

Saari ko,
Mubalik ka
Aron maminaw
Sa pagluray
Sa akong tingog.

Sa sunod nga
Pagsubang sa
Akong bulan.

Monday, September 19, 2011


This whole idea of waiting, moreover than not, does not always present itself at a time when we're at our jolliest to stay put, linger a little longer, and extend our palms open for something good to drop from up there.

There are times when my hands get too itchy to write another set of poems in this blog and yet nothing comes off. While there are times when a thought just appears so clearly that the only thing I need is either a pen or a paper to get all the bleeding taken care of. Right now, there is no such bleeding. I have so much to write about but I just could not find the exact combinations of letters, words, or lines just to get the healing begin. You see, so long as I still keep whatever it is that I need to write, I feel some kind of nausea or a sickness of sort. Until I finally put this into writing, I remain brain dead or immobile in most of my functions, honestly. Ironically though, how am I supposed to start a line when, as I said I am deranged with the fullness of so many things, I can't even begin rightly? This is really insane.

And what better way perhaps to begin things appropriately than to stay silent for a short while. As for now, I am in awe of what's going on around me. So moved and so awed, I don't think a poem would contain what's eating me right now. Yes, even recognizing the whole idea that something is taking my focus away from what I usually do when I see a keyboard, would take seconds to download in the head that indeed something is up in the air and I just can't wait. Like I can't wait for weekends, for Christmas and for a trip to Iloilo every Christmas break. But this one has nothing to do with trips or vacations. This is way better.

And despite choosing silence, I desperately wait for the time when I can finally speak and frolic with my pen or better yet with any keyboard I could find just to get this itch go away. Finally.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


I bought a new fairy tale video for my kiddo yesterday. And as expected Rapunzel becomes her fourth VIP this year. And til then, she has bugged me and my husband to play it again and again. Well, we've watched the movie with her yesterday and honestly, we were smitten by Disney's take on the plot. The usual meters of golden hair was there and the enlightened strong woman in Rapunzel's self was portrayed coupled with Disney-made charm of a singing voice. It was a good thing there wasn't much kissing in it, just a smack when the guy in the movie whom I thought was supposed to be a prince but is really a certified thief who dreamed of having a palace of his own (now that's an interesting take on the usual prince in a fairy tale rescuing a damsel in distress). I love the movie for my daughter minus the smack of a kiss which was readily imitated by my toddler right there when she saw it and the recipient victim of the sticky, slimy baby saliva was the poor loyal mother who's right beside the little Rapunzel, who later said, "Rapunzel's hair is long, Kiny's hair is short, see!"

Kids these days are tough to handle, believe me. You have to be around when they explore the world. They have to be oriented what's acceptable and what are detestable based on the Biblical standard. But the bad news for us is there would be instances where parents could not be there all the time to clear the coast for them.

But as always, I'm hoping that my daughter will ask her questions in time when she needs to and to the right persons. Well, we can only hope. But hey, I can also pray--pray that she will trust her father and me to have the right answers right when she needs them.

For instance, when she saw the be-mustached King, the father of Rapunzel, she blurted out, "It's Jesus, Mommy!" This wasn't a question all right. But I needed to explain to her that not all guys with mustaches are Jesus. For an innocent kid like her who is used to illustrated Bible stories that picture Jesus with a long hair and a mustache, every man with the hair is Jesus.

On one hand, I'd like to keep her that way where she sees every man as Jesus, the good man and the kind God. But as early as now, I feel she needs to know that there are not so good guys out there. It's nice to know though, that the only Jesus kids should see is us, their parents and the rest of the adults. That's what we should be. But the world has become harsh--so harsh because of people whom we thought is Jesus but are not.

Saturday, September 3, 2011


Crying is freaking automatic these days. With all the hullabaloo at work and meetings and debate sessions with the kids at school, I cry in the inside seeing my family at the sideline waiting. I look at the stuff I'm supposed to finish down pat, it's still there lying helplessly on the dusty racks. At times, they seem to stare at me and say, "What are we doing here? Aren't we suppose to go somewhere else?"

My friend once told me, "To have peace, one has to return to his unfinished businesses and make a closure to each one of them, or else, he wouldn't know where to go and how." There must be some grain of truth in it. For with my unfinished book and project, I remain immobile when it comes to my career. At least that's how people see me from their vantage viewpoint. I would not try to argue with them nor would I offer any excuses with possible meta-analysis (which I am won't to do to defend my cause in a helpless fix I usually get in). Yes, the world I am in is a stress-laden world. I could go for a million stress-busters but still come out dehydrated for trying to survive. Teaching often does that to the real victims in the classroom--yes, the teachers. And because the government expects public slaves to send their students to the real world well-equipped we get whipped by demands making us give up priorities--in my case family and special personal projects.

It's a joy to teach. No doubt about it. I'd jump at it again and again. But I'm doubly sure that after all these head-cracking activities, if I don't do anything to replace the liquids that I lost, so to speak, I would die in the toxins I'm plunging right now. And worse, my family bond will suffer some cuts and bruises and it won't be long until it breaks.

So what do I do? What else? I spew liquids with sniffs here and there, hoping the coast will finally clear. But more than that, after the crying, I got to stand up and start making a plan like a real man that I should be, or should I say "woman" that I am.