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.
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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. 🙂