Happy, Happy Valentines to all! I heart you… 😉
You spoke to me of love –
how it found you one day
How it made you otherwise, glad.
You told me of its wonders
and pitfalls, the kind whispers
That seemed – nothing then…
just sweet, but not beyond recall.
You narrated how, it took you by surprise..
In a world of miseries and tears
the sun could shine, manage to shine…
Bask in cheers, quiet comforts, momentous joys.
In your story, you said
you have not known happiness till then.
And the hoping and believing in that thing –
so abstract, called future.
And it would have been real
In its simplicity and plainness – –
You two were made for each other.
Love is not complicated, according to you
It sorts, arranges, filters; it distills
Puts things in their… proper places
Lovers beside each other – love, between. 🙂
Happy, happy New Year to all! Hope 2013 was good to you and 2014 will even be better… 🙂 This was written a good while ago, as part of my project on romanticism in the Tagalog sites, an attempt am unsure if I could finish, ahaha. Keep your fingers crossed for me, guys… 😉
Let’s indulge the romantics in us, here’s Jessie J with We Found Love
and Francis Lai‘s Where Do I Begin? on YouTube. Thanks for the visits and the love, hope you’re keeping well. 🙂
Hall and Oates is one of my second sister’s fave bands. Sister and I are ten(10) years and four(4) siblings apart, by the way… Last year, I found out about the Daryl Hall’s music room, where Daryl sings duet with another, more contemporary musician. Since then, I would occasionally scan YouTube for the performances at Daryl’s venue and be awed at how this man has kept his voice and poise – through the decades – strummin’ and singin’, in winning form… Sharing to you one of my best finds —
Jason Mraz, by the way, is the younger sister’s favorite contemporary singer. I would always tease her about Mraz’s hobo looks and his attempts to shed his middle class ways… Jason was here in Manila for a concert, recently. Sister, of course, went to see it and joyfully reported: Mraz was newly shaven and got himself a haircut, ahaha. The guy sings well, too, can’t argue with that… 😉
A month or so ago, I published a poem in my Tagalog site and a fellow Filipino blogger translated it to English, in the comment section. Turned out, his translation leaned a little too much on the romantic side, hehe. Though a short note on email, I told him he is utterly hopeless, ahaha. The guy glibly and politely replied in the affirmative and sent me an MP3 copy of this song —
It’s a beautiful song and ColdPlay’s vocalist, Chris Martin, is the happy husband of Gwyneth Paltrow… Not only does he sing lovely, like the two musical artists above, he also strums the guitar with a passion. Besides, I don’t see the point in arguing with, against, people who have found it – that thing called… 😉
Hello, folks! In my two years and nine months of blogging, this is one of the best blog posts I have come across. And you would know why… 😉 Happy reading, warm regards! ^_^
Don’t tell me what love looks like.
It is not always gentleness,
flowers and chocolate
and sweetness and stuff.
It is not always acceptance and sighs
and reluctantly letting go.
Sometimes love is hard like a rock,
like a hammer,
like a tether that binds tight for fear of losing to the blackness.
Sometimes love damages to save.
Sometimes it cries and wars and pleads—
fights on without an end in sight.
Because it is impossible not to.
Don’t tell me what love looks like.
It is not always kindness,
softness and light,
weathered words that fall
Sometimes love is a prayer,
a scream to the heavens,
blood red desperation that begs to be heard above the roar of poverty, war, disasters,
and, oh, so many more worthy needs.
And sometimes love dies to live.
View original post 18 more words
Has no season, the heart chooses its moment to bloom
Knows no reason, begs for – a piece of your pardon.
Excuse the humble self, on the edge of some treason
On top of the cliff – with little care or bit of abandon.
Hears strange music, some inner commotion
Feet dance, in heightened grace and passion.
An inane soul bound, pegged, to some silly notion
The heart beats to a love – that’ll find its way soon. 😉
* The idea for this ho-hum piece must have come from a previous post. This is the last of the series of poems written in one sitting, sometime in March – after going over T.S. Eliot’s poem, in this post. Hey, it’s undeniably summer over here, folks. I’m two shades darker already. 😉 Have fun, cheerio!
Wait! The list of things, in life do we brave
The hours – long, odd and surely, grave
The palpitations, for the appointments made
One’s indecisions – while by the acacia’s shade.
The worries of yesteryears, looming so big
A cup of forgetfulness – deign give us a swig
The heels of our shoes, dig the soil quite deep
Begging time, daring one’s heart – oh, to forgive.
The future that asks us – plan, before falling to sleep
The sorrows buried and today’s demands, exigent
The rivers and open seas tell us – to swim and to wade
The question of triumph and yes, the part of self to keep.
Oh, come now – admit here, for a moment
At times we stopped, by the forlorn bend…
To see the mountain grass below – to ponder on and gaze
To inhale the sweet scent of air, the misty morning breeze. 😉
The first cut is the deepest, so says the song. But should we be talking about cuts and bruises – when we’re a day away from the V-day? Yay! We should celebrate, that’s the attitude. Yeah… 😉
I mean, shouldn’t we be glad we’re centuries away from old practices? Yes, am talking about that tribe where a woman was supposed to expose herself to the elements – hails, snows and bears – come winter time because her husband or sons have been killed in the battle. Socially, she was expected to commit suicide, the first chance she could get. The premise being, a woman without a male in her life could not get along in life. Pretty hard and fierce, huh? That was in their milieu, in their time, in that particular tribe… Just happy I wasn’t born then and there. Well, would you? I didn’t think so… 🙂
So, let’s go back to our topic of the day – romance or lack of, hehe. There is no argument that having a romantic relationship or being in one, is the best condition an adult could aspire to. Who wouldn’t want to be loved? Who would refuse a chance to love with all of one’s strength and might and shame? Everybody wants that, no kidding. Can everybody have that? Nah… That’s the sad part. Love doesn’t come everyday. Nor does it make a visit every other day. Not even once a week. It knocks at one’s door, let’s say, once or twice every three years. I mean, the ardent kind… And not all who knocks gets the benefit of an open door, gentle smile and warm hospitality. No. I don’t know if it’s a modern phenomenon but people nowadays, myself including, are very sparing and picky when it comes to offering visitors attention and affection…
And so, Valentines Day approaches and all one could do was to go back to the first time his or her heart was broken, stepped on, fed to the dogs, etcetera… And deal with hazy memories of smiling foolishly because of nothing in particular. Of remembering sweetness. Tenderness. Dreaming wildly. Presuming all too hastily. Of recognizing oneself to be a silly and stupid and insane creature – in general… And being glad for it, for heaven’s sake! Well, that’s love: the first time. People say it’s the sweetest and its cut, the deepest. It goes straight to the core. It offsets one’s balance, it blurs the vision and it confuses one no end. It is debilitating, to say the least… It does not kill. Although most everyone would say that undergoing that phase is very similar to dying. I guess, it involves enduring a considerable amount of pain, yes.
But we survive, another day. To live out the pain, perhaps? To outgrow the silliness? To recoup sanity, hehe. To meet life at its terms, maybe? To learn that in the course of our travel, we come across a variety of experience – love and non-love. Acceptance and denial. Understanding and conflict. Real and surreal. Noble and gross. Down-to-earth and highfalutin’. Warm and cold. Near and distant. Welcoming and aloof. Kind and vile. All sorts… And for all our talks of having learned our lessons, knowing our limits and being wisened up somehow, we fall again… Into the dang pit and no wiser than the first time. Oh, well…
But that is just it. We do hope to spread love in its various forms and meet it as well, in the first corner. Uh, maybe that’s getting one’s hopes up – too soon and too close. At any rate, no one readily gives up, I guess. Love is about finding and being found. The search may take too long or there may just seem to be too many turns. But wherever and whenever, still, one hopes it to be deep and sweet, as the first time… And hopefully, enduring. 😉
Happy Hearts Day to all! Have a love-filled Valentines. 🙂
Remember the song, “I’ll see you in September, when summer is gone?” Alas, September on the Eastern side, in these parts, is no summer. It’s no time for meet-ups and no angels from the heaven above make their presence felt in this season. It rains most nights and some parts of the days, even. It’s typhoon time in the Philippines, folks… Yes, that means a lot of waiting (for the rain to stop, mostly), plenty of opportunities for reminiscing good times and hoping, allegorically, for a magical spell. Whoopee!
So, does love pop out of the window sill like a happy, singing jay, do you meet it in the open tracks or does it single itself out – a cheerful face in the faceless, rolling crowd? Does it announce its presence, by a different tune perhaps? Does it bother to knock or simply crashes its way through and asks to be allowed – to spend the night? Does it croon or swoon or happily declares “Here, now is your boon?” Come now – consider for a moment – ponder the question, “Does love come in the solstice of summer, why ever not in June?”
For sunny mornings and rainy afternoons, there will be love waiting in September – after the good times and caring to remember – not to fall for another, never. For there are promises to keep, long days ahead to sweep, and a pledge of forever in wait. The love songs wafting in the air makes one’s heart skip a beat, the gentle wind has a message and the heart longs to give… 😉
Yes, sirs and mesdames, Taylor Dayne, the singer behind the pop song Love Will Lead You Back was in the country last week. She performed at the Mall of Asia (MOA) Arena last Friday, June 01, 2012 together with Edwin Mc Cain, the singer behind the hit song, I’ll Be. The night before, they performed in Cebu. Dayne’s the second artist, after Lady Gaga, to have performed in the newly-constructed coliseum. It wasn’t full house, though. The venue wasn’t even half-filled, unfortunately. I am not aware of the advertisements and promotions done by the organizers but surely, it was a good concert and more people, who used to sing along with the artists, could have gone and appreciated these artists up close and live. Both Dayne and McCain performed well. R&B singer, JR, did the front act.
As a singer, Dayne was first noticed with her hit song, Tell It to My Heart in 1987. I was still a teenager then and I know that piece was quite popular. But I remember the song chiefly because its MTV was decidedly, definitely ’80s – the frizzy hair, the bangs (hehe), the shoulder pads (who can forget those?) and the slashed jeans (USED pants, anyone?). It’s all there in the video, should anyone care to traipse down the memory lane, haha. Taylor was known for being a hot singer – pouted red, big lips, a vixen image (sort of) and excellent vocals. Back then, people were calling her another Madonna. And if you were there at the concert (ahaha, I know not many were), you would know that she’s really a magnificent singer and performer. I know, some of you would say, “But she’s so two decades ago!” Yes, but she hasn’t lost it – the voice, the look and the performance. She danced and sang like a sexy 35-year old!
Philippines is host to an average of 200 concerts by international performers a year – from the most popular artists and bands to the singers who are making a comeback after 20 or 30 years, haha. I do not know if the figure says anything about the Filipinos’ colonial mentality in music or, if it means we are cosmopolitan in our tastes and would willingly shell out good money just to hear good melodies, or, if the country is plain haven for artists in need of paying audience. I really don’t know. But as things look, events organizing, particularly concert-organizing, has become an industry in the Philippines. Thing is, we are very musically-inclined as a people. My dark suspicion being that the number of households that own videoke set probably equals the number of washing-machine owning households, haha. We smile and sing our troubles away, that’s the Pinoy way.
At any rate, I have a tiny view to express to the concert organizers and I hope they won’t take offense. Hmnn, you, guys, did McCain a bad turn by putting up a picture of him in the poster looking much like a club bouncer, no kidding. He certainly looks so much better, younger and more personable up close. And his voice is still cool and collected. He has still got it, whatever it takes to sing one’s way into the listeners’ hearts. My sibling and I were wondering why or how his songs are not topping the charts still. It seems he really sings well. In the end, I mentioned to my sibling that probably, it’s because there seems to be a small-town quality to his singing, something not meant for a big audience. The sibling agreed, saying that the artist’s career is somewhat of the one-hit wonder type. Likewise, that his voice and performance are rather similar to that of Taylor Hicks of the American Idol – an excellent musician but a rather aloof one. Haha, we agreed that Edwin Mc Cain was a looker 20 years ago, somewhat… 😉
Another Valentine’s Day survived, whew! With all the flowers and chocolates being peddled around and bandied about on the 14th, one’s liable to think the world’s gone mad with love. Messages crying out loudly or, softly, “Be Mine.” Yes, but could you give me a minute, please? After all, it’s not that easy to say, “I’m Yours.” Really.
Or, is it? Isn’t it what we’ve been waiting for, the chance to turn soft and finally surrender without a fight? “Shh, heart, thou doth protest too much. Keep still.” It’s that time to see the sky a shade bluer, the grass a bit greener and the rose a little redder, huh? It’s the time to be happy. Or, so they say. Or, so you say.
But what of it? What could be so special about love, really? Love, indeed! Why, it’s a curse, according to the severely affected. It’s about finding oneself in another person, the craziest of ideas. The nerve! The height! Capital! Some situation one takes the trouble to entangle himself in.
It’s as though the pressure of the clock isn’t enough, the degradation of the environment not alarming enough and the proliferation of crimes, nothing to worry about, no. The heart could stand some more tremors, keep them coming. Truly, a person’s appetite for self-destruction knows no bounds.
The heart has its reasons, methinks the problem begins there. It has this phony superstition that the more befuddling a person is, the more attractive he/she is. How come? How come that a person who bothers your sleep, intrudes in your thoughts and makes you forget your meals, becomes the center of your universe? That’s insane!
Now, it’s bad enough that one forgets himself with the intruder’s presence. But there usually follows music, too, of the most unusual kind. At this point, insanity of the distressed person scales up to a level not quite anticipated. Derangement then shows itself in various serious forms. Regression sets in – the suffering person becomes young at heart. Some warning is in order or the effects will be irreversible.
Some form of intervention thus becomes necessary. Rescue the afflicted or be damned with the consequences. Alas, for most people, they do not see the peril of being around a fellow who is truly, deeply and madly in love. They usually ignore the signs, fail to address the root cause of the predicament and some even go the extent of encouraging madness. Ah, when will we ever learn?
I say with candor, love must be nipped in the bud. It musn’t be permitted to take roots, reach out to the sun and cavort with the wind. There’s a stiff price to pay if we allow that to happen. Sadly, we have allowed just that. Negligence seems to have the run of the place, for thousands of years. And where has it gotten us, may I ask? To the bottom of the deep blue, I am loathed to admit. It’s a world peopled by folks who can’t tell their left from their right, a sorry business.
Fortunately, some bright minds came up with the idea of celebrating the love day. They marked a certain day of the year for honoring Eros or elevating Cupid, a happy, if not a cure-all, solution. By declaring Valentine’s Day, the authorities effectively stripped love some of its mysteries. Love’s then lifted up and held for everybody’s appraisal. Devoid of falsehood and misconception, it can now take its place among its brethren – ambition, revenge and shame – a veritable and strong line-up. Love as one among the many emotions that make this world go round.
Consider this. Celebration of love for just one day needs not give one the creeps when he or she is loveless. Come on, it’s just a day! For all the hoopla, Valentines can be and is usually survived. I mean, it’s not as hard as Physics. It’s nowhere near Algebra, hey. I must admit though, that not quite measuring up to the demands of the occasion, induces a state almost as bad. There’s always the inquiring look, the solicitous words and the punishing kindness from friends, relatives and acquaintances, all to make The Day bearable.
These well-meaning people do not take you to task for going around and about loveless and unloved, no. They pray and hope for your deliverance. For them, love is a mandatory kind of sickness, very much like the measles or the chickenpox – it’s necessary. If it can be helped, the affliction must manifest and declare itself on the 14th day of the second month, yes. This way, you’ll be normal just like the rest, normally in the love fever range. Ahuh.
So, it happens. Love is commemorated yearly, on a circumstance and in a ceremony called Valentine’s Day. There are flowers, chocolates, cards and all sorts of compunctions. It’s not so bad. Really. Valentines thoughtfully reminds us that love can be lost and found. Or, found and lost. Which, when one comes to think of, is what love’s all about. It’s about finding what’s missing and losing what one thought she or he, has found. It’s a lot like life, honestly.
Different folks conceive and celebrate Valentine’s Day differently. For some, it’s the chance to show off, to declare devotion way too loudly. For the others, it’s the occasion to spend all too carelessly. Still, for the others, it’s the suitable day to cry oneself immensely. Different strokes, I say. For me, love is meant for growing. If your plant has not matured by V-Day, why, it’s no time to expect harvest yet. If you do, that isn’t just subscribing to falsehood. It’s being silly, on top of forcing love.
And if there’s one thing love ain’t, it’s just that – it’s not begotten by compulsion.
Happy Valentines, all year through! 😉 🙂