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I traveled a long time to this island,
to pursue my education here.
When beyond the distant traffic,
I saw a pretty, young woman.

Sparkles from her vision,
journeying so friendly to the haven of my heart,
acquainting and uniting.

Her eyes were full of sensations,
I captured with my living admiration.
Her reddish lips which sealed by affections,
called to me with clear approbation.

How sweet and sincere was her smile,
her glowing face and blooming beauty captured mine.
Along an honest doorway,
her eyesight ruled the intimate way.

Whoever has seen her prettiness,
adoration is the most luxurious consideration.
She is filled with ardent romances,
She is surrounded with loveliness,
like the fresh red rose in the flowering garden.

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Obsessed, my yesterday is vague, I trudge the thorny road
Fancy dress I wore, I am full of doubt.

Decency lost in my being, I become a vagabond.
Earthly and wrong deeds, my life sealed with woes.
Angry at myself; the world refuses to shine.
Time, the only thing that’s in constant motion.
Homebound to hell, my soul committed a sin.

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I search for a long day,

in this white beach of Sibale.

Hoping that at the nook of this haven,

I can find my lost love.

The sun gradually rises in early morning,

I never search her way.

The moon shining in the beautiful evening,

I never find the entrance of her passage.

I am hopeless, my eyes are so tired in finding her path,

I decide to take farewell from the beach of Sibale.

The waves of the sea not so merry,

when I left the beach of Sibale.

I go to the city to find my lost love,

to fill the emptiness of my heart.

I meet many nice women,

with sweet embraces and kisses,

yet I am not as happy as I thought.

Year later, I go back to the white beach of Sibale.

The haven is beautifully changed,

but the sadness that I felt remains,

and never fades in my heart.

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In my elementary days, my teachers from Grade 1 to VI always gives me a tasked of reciting a poem in almost all of the occasions in school. I just don’t know why my teachers punishing me that much.

At my tender age, I called it punishment because I am really afraid of standing and reciting a poem in front of so many people and I always felt nervous.  Yet, I am obliged to do what my teachers have told me. I spent days and nights memorizing the content of the poem assigned to me and practicing on how to deliver it properly.

In high school I felt relieved from reciting a poem in front of many people that I considered an arduous task. It was almost four years that I set my life apart from poetry world.

It was December 1991, while I am writing a love letter and searching for lovely phrases in the book of world literature that I accidentally stumbled and nailed in one of the poem of Edgar Allan Poe entitled To Helene. It was still very clear in my mind the phrase (Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face) I borrowed which I incorporated into my love letter. The message of the poem penetrates deep into my heart and mind, and it was then that my love for poetry resurfaces. It was also the moment where I began writing a poem which I considered the first step and the beginning of my journey into the world poetry.

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Every time I walk

In this camp of deafening silence

I always feel the very emptiness

Of my wounded heart

I want to embrace and kiss with my beloved

I want to sing and dance with my beloved

I want to play and laugh with my beloved

But I can’t for I am far from my beloved

She is in the city

I am in the hinterland

She is in the city of temptation

I am in the hinterland of belonging

I can’t endure this life of mine

I can’t resist the belonging of my heart

I can’t afford not to feel her love

For I love her deeply

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Note: This poem was written way back in the year 2000 in the camp of 141st Company of Regional Mobile Group located at Taganito, Claver, Surigao del Norte.

For almost two decades of writing poetry as a means of expressing my thoughts. I am unaware that I have written hundreds of poems and I have never imagined that I am this far in this unique type of writings. As years had passed I feel that I can’t make my life meaningful without poetry. I searched for poetry group to gain readers and listeners, and most of all a friend that I can cling on. I meet different types of people in this virtual world where passion is the same as mine. While interacting with this group of people an idea comes to mind of compiling these poems and have it available to reading public. I have spent number of days in thinking and finding title that will best describes my work. While reading and re-reading, revising and revising an idea comes from ether enter into my brain telling me that I have to name this first batch of compilation as WHISPER OF LIFE. In one instance of my life while I am alone in my home and the surrounding where in silence I can clearly hear the soft voices of the poems I have written and I finally called these voices as Whisper of Life.

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Most of the times when my heart is occupied with boredom, anger, love and dislikes to a certain things or events I turn my self into writings of poem. Writing poetry serve as the river of my thoughts and emotions where I can freely says and express of what I have in mind. I feel relieve from pain every time I write a poem. This is also my other means of releasing the tension that linger in my heart, body and mind. Poetry is my keen listener and observer to almost all of my undertakings in life. Poetry uplifts me from the everyday hassles of life. Poetry is my honest and true companion in dealings with life challenges and adversaries.

Kind heart and gentle hands,
she stood, she walked along the pleasant
and nasty days of everyday.

I respect and salute her,
with all my heart and mind.
Greatness and strong will,
she alleviates those hurt and injured.

Radiant love,
she cared for those bleeding men in the field.
She became the symbol and greatest icon
of this land of affliction and cruelty
I ever knew.

Now, beyond doubt,
I am praying and praising with reverence to her,
and to all things that she has righteously done with her life.

The preceding poem is an excerpt from the book: Whisper of Life

This poem was written on September of year 1997 while I was reading the pages of the history of the Filipino people. The poem has been revised many times and it was specially written as a gesture of respect and admiration to one of the bravest woman in the Philippines during the time where the Philippines were in the hands of the Spanish invader. Her name was Melchora Aquino, “The Mother of the Katipunan” better known as “Tandang Sora”,

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Writing a single poem is sometime very laborious or trouble-free depending on how the poet uses his wide and brilliant imagination. Oftentimes our minds are filled with great images but we are having a hard time converting it into a wonderful poem. Translating the image conceived by our inquisitive minds into a captivating verse requires deep focus for us to perfectly draw the overall appearance of the picture.

But there are instances that even if we see a vivid image in our mind we are still hindered by some unavoidable disturbances that we can’t even put a single line of poetic verse in describing what our brain has flawlessly visualized. This experience happens to every one of us; even those great poets suffer the same dilemma. But through constant employment of putting the image formed in our minds into verse we will surely hurdle this obstacle.

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Writing a poem can be very hard or easy depending on the person’s perspective. Sometime our minds are filled with great picture that we developed into a wonderful or bad poem. Translating the quality of the image conceived in our mind into words requires deep focus. But there are still instances that even we see a clear picture in our mind we are still hindered by some unavoidable disturbances that we can’t even put a single line to describe what we conceived in our mind. These occurrences happened in every one of us because even those great poets suffer the same experience but through constant employment of putting the picture received by our minds into words we will surely unleashed its mystery.

To write poem to its best we have to write it from the heart. Poem written from the heart has the mixture of love, sincerity, and empathy. Transforming into poem the perceived object or stimulus you love or hate you must write it from the deepest part of your heart. Whether you are crafting a bad poem or poem that will remain in the pages of literature always speaks the truth and do not alter what your heart says.

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