Citatepedia^®.com

* * *

Bite back passion. Spring now sets.
Watch little by little the night turn around.
Echoes in the house; want to go up, dare not.
A glow behind the screen; wish to go through, cannot.
It would hurt too much, the swallow on a hairpin;
Truly shame me, the phoenix on a mirror.
On the road back, sunrise over Heng-t'ang.
The blossoming of the morning-star shines farewell on the jewelled saddle.

poem by Li Shangyin
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Laking Marikina, Part 2

Isang paraiso no'n ang Ilog Marikina
Daming binubuhay, daming umaasa
Malinis na tubig, siya'ng pinagkukunan,
Inumin sa banga, panligo sa tapayan
Tumana sa baybay, daming binubuhay
Palakaya sa tubig, iba't-iba ang paraan
Sa inyo ko'y babanggitin, anu-ano ang pangalan

BINGWIT

Ang Bingwit ay isang panghuli ng isda
Na may tangkay, pisi, pabigat at taga
Sa Ingles siya ay rod, hook, line and sinker
Bingwit or Fishing Rod, parehong may pain
Pain namin no'n ay hipon at bulate
Sari-saring isda ang nangahuhuli
Biya, hito, kanduli, minsa'y bakule
Bingwit ay di pare-pareho ang gamit
Merong sa tubig lang ay inilalawit
Merong hinihila matapos ihagis
Para ng isda ang pain ay mapansin
Akala niya'y buhay, agad sasagpangin
Ang tawag namin sa ganitong paraan
Ay di namimingwit, kundi nanggagalay

PATUKBA

Patukba ay parang bingwit na maliit
Maikli ang pisi, ang tangkay ay siit
Tangkay ay matulis para maitusok
Pag iniuumang na sa tabi ng ilog
Sa dulo ng tangkay doon nakalawit
Ang pising sa dulo, taga'y nakakabit
Kung ito'y iumang ay sa dakong hapon
Pain ay palaka, kuliglig o suhong
IIwang magdamag hanggang sa umaga
ang oras na dapat sila'y pandawin na
Ang paing sa tubig ay kakawag-kawag
Ng bulig o dalag gustong sinisiyab
Ang aking patukba'y tatlumpu ang bilang
Di marami, di kaunti, lang ay katamtaman
Sa bilang na ito, bawat pag-uumang
Ang dalag kong huli'y naglalaro sa siyam
Ang paing kuliglig saan kinukuha?
Sa ilalim ng yagit sa bukid/tumana
Ang suhong naman ay sa mga putikan
Sa tabi ng ilog, kahit na nga saan
Ang palaka naman ay sa mga lawa, Sa bukid, sa ilog at lugar na basa

KITANG

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poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Song of Wink Star

The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages
story and text © Raj Arumugam, June 2008

☼ ☼

☼ Preamble

Come…children all, children of all ages…sit close and listen…
Come and listen to this happy story of the stars and of life…
Come children of the universe, children of all nations and of all races, and of all climates and of all kinds of space and dimensions and universes…
Come, dearest children of all beings of the living universe, come and listen to The Song of Wink Star…

Come and listen to this story, this happy story…listen, as the story itself sings to you…

Sit close then, and listen to the story that was not made by any, or written by a poet, or fashioned by grandfathers and grandmothers warming themselves at the fire of burning stars…

O dearest children all, come and listen to the story that lives
of itself, and that glows bright and happy….

Come…children all, children of all ages, come and listen to this happy story, the story so natural and smooth as life, as it sings itself to you….

☼ The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages

☼ 1

Night Child, always so light and gentle, slept on a flower.
And every night, before he went to sleep, he would look up at the sky.
He would look at the eastern corner, five o’clock.

And there he would see all the stars in near and distant galaxies that were only visible to the People of Star Eyes.

Night Child was one of the People of Star Eyes. And so he could see the stars. And of all the stars he could see, he loved to watch Wink Star.

Wink Star twinkled and winked and laughed.
Every night Wink Star did that. Winked and laughed.

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Arumugam
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Farewell

Can I see thee stand
On the looming land?
Dost thou wave with thy white hand
Farewell, farewell?
I could think that thou art near,
Thy sweet voice is in mine ear,
Farewell, farewell!
While I listen, all things seem
Singing in a singing dream,
Farewell, farewell!
Echoing in an echoing dream,
Farewell, farewell!

Yon boat upon the sea,
It floats 'twixt thee and me,
I see the boatman listless lie;
He cannot hear the cry
That in mine ears doth ring
Farewell, farewell!
Doth it pass him o'er and o'er,
Heard upon the shore behind,
Farewell, farewell!
Heard upon the ship before,
Farewell, farewell!
Like an arrow that can dart
Viewless thro' the viewless wind,
Plain on the quivering string,
And plain in the victim's heart?

Are there voices in the sky,
Farewell, farewell?
Am I mocked by the bright air,
Farewell, farewell?
The empty air that everywhere
Silvers back the sung reply,
Farewell, farewell!
While to and fro the tremulous accents fly,
Farewell, farewell!
Now shown, now shy,
Farewell, farewell!
Now song, now sigh,
Farewell, farewell!
Toy with the grasping heart that deems them nigh,
Come like blown bells in sudden wind and high,
Or far on furthest verge in lingering echoes die,
Farewell, farewell!
Farewell, farewell, farewell!

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poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Kamatayan ng Isang Ilog

Simula pa noong aking kamusmusan
Ang ilog sa amin sa akin napamahal
Malaking bahagi ng kabataan ko
Ay dito nagugol hanggang maging tao

Malinaw ang tubig sa Batis at Layon
Sarap magtampisaw, kay sarap lumangoy
Sa kanyang Agos ay nagpapati-anod
Sa Uli-uli niya ay nagpapahigop
Sa Alimbukay na pumapaibabaw
Mula sa ilalim masarap sumakay

Siya ay Cornucopia ng likas na yaman
Ng isda sa tubig, halaman sa baybay
Sa kanyang aplaya'y kay inam mamasyal
Lunas sa isip na nagulumihanan
Ang singaw ng tubig at simoy ng hangin
Ng may karamdaman, mabuting langhapin

At do'n sa malalim, nasa dakong gitna
Ang mga tao ay nagsisipamangka
Ang gamit ay sagwan o mahabang tikin
Sa balsang kawayan o tiniban ng saging

Ilog na piknikan ng napakarami
Nilang kakainin di na binibili
Magdadala lamang ng posporo, bigas,
asin at lutuan, ayos na ang lahat
Di na kailangan ang mamalakaya
Mangangapa lamang, ay merong ulam na
Hipon, Bulig, Biya, kasama na Tulya,
Di ka kakapusin, meron nang gulay pa
Gulay na nagkalat lamang sa baybayin
O gulay na galing sa tubig na lalim
Ito'y Kalabuwa, katulad ay Pechay
Na sa kamatis ay masarap isigang

At sa kalaliman kay daming halaman
Kasama ng lumot, at sintas-sintasan
Digman at iba pa na gustong taguan
Ng Hipon, at Biya, saka Talibantan

Yaong aming ilog ay siya ring tahanan
Ng Sulib, ng Kuhol, ng Susong Tibagwang
Masarap ipangat, masarap subukan
Na pag ginataa'y lalong malinamnam

Ang Hipong Tagunton huli sa Talabog
Masarap na pritong muna'y hinalabos
Ang higanteng hipon, kung tawagi'y Ulang

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poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Hi Tech

Salamat na lamang sa high technology
Na kahit huli na'y umabot pa kami
Kaming 'pinanganak noong ninteeen thirty's
At swerteng narating ang idad seventies

Ang tula na ito nang aking sulatin
Sign pen ang ginamit, substitute ay ballpen
Final draft, tinapos sa aking computer
Malinis na kopya'y ginawa sa printer

Extra copy nito'y puwedeng ipadala
Attachment sa email, by fax at meron pa
Surface mail at airmail, kundi kuntento ka
By Fedex, LBC, hari ng padala

Ang maraming kopya, paano gagawin
Noon ay photostat, masyadong maitim
O kaya'y mimeograph, a very messy thing
Tinta'y kumakalat sa pag-i-stencil
Ngayon nama'y xerox, pagkopya'y matulin

Kung ang tulang ito'y noon ko sinulat
Ako'y mayayamot, at iyon ay tiyak
Kung kailan ako ay nagmamadali
Ang lapis na gamit, saka mababali
Gamit na fountain pen, tinta'y umaagas
Kundi nagtatae, penpoint ay matalas
Sa aking 'cocomband', kakamot, kakaskas

Noong bata kami, ay wala pang cellphone
Telepono'y mayaman lang ang mayroon
Lihim na pag-ibig, hindi maite-text
Tulay o messenger, kelangang gumamit
Resultang madalas, sulat maintercept
Ng tatay o nanay na napakahigpit
O kaya'y si darleng, sa 'tulay' kumabet

Kapag ang wagas na pag-ibig na iyo
Ay sa kaprasong papel pa isusulat mo
Sa post o koreo padadaanin pa
Bago ka masagot, kayo'y matanda na

Walang mega taksing kung tawagi'y FX
Magtitiyaga ka lang sa PUJ na dyip
'God Knows Hudas Not Pay', paskel, nakadikit
'Upong Diyes lamang po', laging sinasambit
Ng tsuper na kundi mabait-masungit

Mga bata noon, hilig ay mangisda
'Fighting fish' naman ang sa mga matanda

[...] Read more

poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Fitration Bags

2.5 gallon shopvac bags
1995 ktm 400 rxc hard bags
2006 black leather prada bags list
24 x 36 shrink bags
18 x 9 padded bag
3m printscape personalized gift bag
20lb bag parrot food
40 inch round duffle bag
2001 explorer air bag light flashes
3rd street sissy bar bag
1997 nissan air bag sensor
12x18 carry bag
1001 grab bag ideas
2000 explorer air bag light flashing
15,000 cfm used bag dustcollector
12 lb turkey recipies in bag
14.1 laptop messenger bags
3306 plan tackle bag
10 pound bag of endives yield
4 mil zip bags
$2 grab bag nsd
1970s bean bag
18th century shooting bags
48 superman bop bag
2006 kawasaki ninja 250r bags
1976 electra glide saddle bags
1940 s english aoutomobiles gas bags
40 lb bag of cement
07 cr-v safety bag plastic pillar
2 gauge ear plug grab bag
1998 saturn sl2 air bag module
40 degree helix sleeping bag
3x4 organza gift bags
3 bags full consignment
2000 mercedes air bag problem
2ply snap handle bag
1987 bmw k75s saddle bags
2003 bozo desktop bop bag
135 approved electronic flight bag
2005 toyota matrix side air bags
2006 bag gucci spring
3 insulated sleeping bags
4in bag ice one
2008 street bob hard bags
45 micron bag
250 ninja nelson-rigg saddle bag
24 wheeled garment bag
1996 lincoln continental air bag suspension
2006 aka boule bag
400d horn bag

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Adrienne Vittadini

air bag blanco negro y
air bag bmw z3
air bag bmw2c defective
air bag bodydropp
air bag bothers
air bag box hoist
air bag box hoist for truck
air bag bracing
air bag brackets 64 chevy
air bag brackets 72 chevy truck
air bag brackets bridge kits
air bag brackets in nc
air bag cadillac suspension
air bag camaro suspension
air bag cannister
air bag caprice suspension
air bag car code lincoln town
air bag caravan dodge grand recall
air bag carry nike tour
air bag censors
air bag chemical burn
air bag cherokee cover jeep
air bag cherokee jeep light
air bag chevy impala suspension
air bag chevy suspension truck
air bag chopper
air bag chrysler 2005
air bag chrysler lebaron
air bag chrysler lebaron 1989
air bag civic honda suspension
air bag civic suspension
air bag code b0026
air bag code ford list taurus
air bag codes 1999 poniac montana
air bag codes jaquar
air bag codes mazda miaita
air bag codes windstar
air bag codes windstar 2001
air bag connector position assurance
air bag connectors
air bag continental fs100-10
air bag contitech
air bag control module chrysler
air bag control module lebaron
air bag control module reset tools
air bag conveyor
air bag cop killer
air bag corvette driver repair
air bag cover 1999 honda prelude
air bag crash data reset

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags
20 gallon garbage bags
30 gallon trash bags odor
17 leather laptop bag clearance
42 rolling duffle bag
2 section 17 roller cooler bag
40 long sportsequipment bag
2005 ford taurus air bag
06 toyota corolla air bag
3 x 8 cello bags
1 ball roller bowling bags
10020 garbage bags
250 liter bag
21 sensational patchwork bags
4 wheeler cargo bags
3 shelf laundry bag cart
2002 altima air bags
2003 crown victoria air bag recall
2 pc motorcycle tour bag
2 x3 zip lock bags
360121 bat bag
$1 tea bag holder
400 gauge thick poly bags
2005 jackie o gucci hand bag
1 bag cement mixers
1920s clutch bag
1.5 oz bag reg chips
1 bag popcorn serving size
2000 saturn sl air bag light
11 gallon garbage bags
306 leather tour sissy bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Ang Kanser Sa Totoy Sa Akong English Teacher

Dugay ra niyang nabati ang bukol sa w'a niya nga totoy.
Kapoy. Baliwala lang. Mora'g wala lang. Daghan pa siya'g
Gigastohan nga mga pag-umangkon. Busy pod sa World
Literature. Preoccupied sa Third World Poetry.

Napulo'g lima katuig nga gatudlo sa English ug World
Literature si Ma'am sa usa ka private religious school.
Usa ako sa iyang gipalayog sa verb, adverbs, ug adjectives.
Gipaharong kang Tolstoy. Nakig-tagay ni Omar.
Sa mga blithe spirits ni Shelly. Ug kang Lucasta sa dihang
Miasdang na siya sa gubat. Kang Emily, Pablo, Octavio.
Shakespeare.Neruda. Mistral.

Nagdugo, nagnana ang duha miya ka tutoy.
Daghang verbs, adverbs, adjectives. Aduna pa gayo'y
Mga prepositions and conjunctions nga nabalaka su'd
Sa 25 ka tuig. Natawo ang mga balak. Ug mga sugilanon.
Nanubo ang mga dahon sa laurel. Nangisog ang mga paminta.
Namaak ang kahalang sa sili sa akong mga ngabil
Mitubo ang mga pan. Mibukal ang mga tuba.
Pati ang lana sa mga hilo-anan ug mga wakwak.
Mikuyanap ang Magic Touch. Ang mga figments
Of imagination. Ang mga streams of consciousness.
Mikamang ang walay angay nga mokamang
sa ilalom sa katre ug panganod.

Dili siya magpa-opera. Dili niya gusto. Wa’y igong kwarta.
Dili nga dili makatabang ang chemotheraphy.
Giluwa na ang Iyang ATM. Nalubong siya sa utang.
Dugay ra. Nagmahay ang mga subordinate clauses.
Dili matonong ang mga direct objects. Naunay siya
Sa mga dreams nga nag-dream. Nagkulismaot
Ang mga dagway sa infinitives. Ug ang mga predicates
Mismo ang nagkutkot sa iyang lubnganan.
Nagpakaluoy ang Philippine Literature nga unta dili lang
Usa siya kuhaon ni Bathala.Time passes swiftly. Ang mga rosas
Nga mibukhad karon, pipila lang ka oras sa kilid sa bintana,
Kadali rang nangalaya. Ang mga buds na-nipped. Tight-lipped.
Dying. Dayag ang pagka-dying ni Daying.

Lubong niya karon. Ug tulo lang kami nga mitungha.
Usa lang ang miiyak. Ug ang duha, kadyot lang nga mitan-aw
Ug dayo'g biya kay dunay mga importanteng mga lakaw
Sa ilang kinabuhi.Walay gahom ang balak sa pagbanhaw kang
Ma'am. Ang mga prepositions ug conjunctions dili mga karo
Ug ligid mga mohatod kaniya sa menteryo. Nag-inusara lang
Intawon siya gihapon. Bisan pa sa iyang pagpangugat og pama-
Lak usab kaniadto. Dili ang iyang mga pag-umangkon
Ang miiyak. Ugma ablihon ko ang daan nga libro ni Pablo Neruda.

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hari Ng Tondo

Kahit sa patalim kumapit
Isang tuka isang kahig
Ang mga kamay na may bahid ng galit
Kasama sa buhay na minana
Isang maling akala na ang taliwas kung minsan ay tama
Ang hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
Hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo-ohhh
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo

[Voice: 'May gatas ka pa sa labi, gusto mo nang mag-hari dito sa Tondo? ']

Minsan sa isang lugar sa Maynila
Maraming nangyayari
Ngunit takot ang dilang
Sabihin ang lahat
Animo'y kagat-kagat
Kahit itago'y 'di mo pwedeng pigilin ang alamat na umusbong
Kahit na madami ang ulupong
At halos hindi iba ang laya sa pagkakulong
Sa kamay ng iilan
Umaabusong kikilan
Ang lahat ng pumalag
Walang tanong
Ay kitilan ng buhay
Hukay, luha'y magpapatunay
Na kahit hindi makulay
Kailangang magbigay-pugay
Sa kung sino mang lamang
Mga bitukang halang
At kung wala kang alam
Ay yumuko ka nalang
Hanggang sa may nagpasya
Na sumalungat sa agos
Wasakin ang mga kadena na siyang gumagapos
Sa kwento na mas astig pa sa bagong-tahi na lonta
Sabay-sabay nating awitin ang tabing na tolda
[ Lyrics from:
Kahit sa patalim kumapit
Isang tuka isang kahig
Ang mga kamay na may bahid ng galit
Kasama sa buhay na minana
Isang maling akala na ang taliwas kung minsan ay tama
Ang hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
Hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo-ohhh
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo

[Voices: 'Sino ang may sabi sa inyo na pumasok kayo sa teritoryo ko? Amin ang lupang ito.' 'Hindi, kay Asiong! ']

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poem by Sirius White
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Troubadour. Canto 2

THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?

When will the youth feel as he felt,
When first at beauty's feet he knelt?

As if her least smile could confer
A kingdom on its worshipper;
Or ever care, or ever fear
Had cross'd love's morning hemisphere.
And the young bard, the first time praise
Sheds its spring sunlight o'er his lays,
Though loftier laurel, higher name,
May crown the minstrel's noontide fame,
They will not bring the deep content
Of his lure's first encouragement.
And where the glory that will yield
The flush and glow of his first field
To the young chief? Will RAYMOND ever
Feel as he now is feeling?--Never.

The sun wept down or ere they gain'd
The glen where the chief band remain'd.

It was a lone and secret shade,
As nature form'd an ambuscade
For the bird's nest and the deer's lair,
Though now less quiet guests were there.
On one side like a fortress stood
A mingled pine and chesnut wood;
Autumn was falling, but the pine
Seem'd as it mock'd all change; no sign
Of season on its leaf was seen,
The same dark gloom of changeless green.
But like the gorgeous Persian bands
'Mid the stern race of northern lands,
The chesnut boughs were bright with all
That gilds and mocks the autumn's fall.

Like stragglers from an army's rear
Gradual they grew, near and less near,
Till ample space was left to raise,
Amid the trees, the watch-fire's blaze;
And there, wrapt in their cloaks around,
The soldiers scatter'd o'er the ground.

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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Larong Trumpo

Ang laro sa trumpo na inabutan ko
Sa barrio namin ang ngalan ay Pandiego
Ang tamang spelling at talagang tawag
Ay hindi ko alam, hindi ko matiyak
Ngunit aking alam ang alituntunin
Kung p'anong ang laro ay dapat na gawin
Sila sa inyo ko'y iisa-isahin

Sa lupa'y guguhit ng isang bilog muna
Na ang diametro'y mga isang yarda
Guguhit ng ekis sa gitna at loob
Ang crossing ng ekis ay siyang centerpoint
Ng mga player ay siyang patatamaan
Ang mano't ang taya saka malalaman

Sa rules ng manuhan, kami ay strikto
Di komo malapit ang tama ng pako
Ikaw na'y di taya, ikaw na ay mano
Dapat umiikot, buhay ang iyong trumpo
At kelangang ito pa ay masate mo
Dahil pag nalaglag, ikaw din ay talo

Mayroon kaming rules na taya ang kulelat
Ang lahat ay buhay at titirang lahat
Nagsosolong taya ng kotong ay tadtad
Pero di tatagal, taya'y dumadami
Namatay sa loob, hindi nakasikad'
Di nakamaniola, kaya'y di nasate

Para ang laro ay parehas at timbang
Hinahati namin ang patay at buhay
O dami ng taya at ng tumitira
Kung ito ay gawin, nami'y paano ba
Kung apat ang player 'taya' ang dalawang
pinakakulelat, dalawang mano'y 'tira'

Ang mga trumpo na taya at 'patay' na
Ng mga 'buhay' silay tinitira
Trumpong nakataya kapag napakuan
Ito'y 'nakotongan' kung aming bansagan
Pag ang tayang trumpo'y natuklap, natapyas
'Nasiklatan' naman naming tinatawag

Trumpong itinira, pag hindi umikot
Iyon na ay patay, taya na sa loob
Trumpong di umikot, pero me nagalaw
Na trumpo na taya, siya pa rin ay buhay
Puwedeng muli't ulit siya ay tumira
Iyon ang tinatawag namin na 'maniola'
Ang trumpong nabuhay sa labas ng guhit

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poem by Pacific Hernandez
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Kabahin Sa Halangdong Kritiko

Dili ka nako mabasol kay ako ang nag-aghat nimo
pagdayon sa akong balay karong adlawa ug sa umaabot pa.
Ari, saka sa akong hagdan nga karaan
nga wala pa gyod malampasohi ang mga ang-ang.

Palihog og tan-aw sa iyang mga hawiranan.
Kinahanglan pa bang silakan o pintalan ba hinuon?

Dali saka sa akong sala, ug palihog pahimutang
sa akong mga lingkoranan nga ginama sa mga kawayan
nga gipaslotan ang batakan sa mga gabaga nga puthaw
aron ipatik ang ilhanan: ang akong ngalan.

Mangadto ta sa akong katulganan
sa katre nga tugas nga akong sinunod sa akong mga ginikanan.
Dunay mga tinagoan nakong mga gilumotan sa tumang kadaan.
Patay na ang mga isda sa gamay nakong aquarium,
ug ang mga suga sa kilid nangaponder na.
Wala ko’y plano nga alisdan kay ganahan ko sa dulom.

Mangadto nya ta sa akong talad kan-anan.
Wala’y basiyo sa beer o Tanduay, apan daghang garapa
sa mga tambal nga wala nay mga sulod.
Ang mga resita sa doktor gihapnig sa kilid sa lamesa
diin anaa ang akong antipara.

Dinhi niining lugara masilip mo ang akong gamay kaayo
nga kusina, ug sa kilid naa ang akong kasilyas. Ayaw katingala
nganong busloton ang atop. Kay kon ako malibang,
maglantaw dayon ko sa mga nanglabay nga mga bituon.

Dali dayon ta sa akong veranda.
Sultihi ko samtang manglingkod ta.
Unsa ba ang imong nakita?

Dili puti ang sanina sa akong mga damgo.
Dili pod itom, dili hapsay ang mga sidsid sa akong mga saad.
Dili sab hinoon kaayo kum-ot, wala nay kwelyo
ang akong mga paglaom.
Dili na long pants ang akong mga pangandoy.
Wala na ang singsing og kwentas sa akong ambisyon.
Mibaga ang antipara sa akong mga pangutana,
ug nawala ang mga butones sa akong mga tubag
nga unta mohulip sa nagnganga nakong mga ohales.

Kon mobiya ka na niining akong balay nga karaan,
sultihi silang tanan sa mga hagdan nga dili na sinaw,
sa mga haligi nga nangaharag,
sa mga bungbong nga nangabuslot,
sa mga bintana, pultahan ug atop

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

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poem by Byron
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

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poem by Thomas Moore
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Elmer

Ito ay bayan ni juan
Hindi bayan ni run
Dumating pa sa puntong
Ang braso ay may bayanihan
Bago magkalimutan
Wag magsapilitan
Walang papalitan
Hindi 'to katatawanan

(chorus)

Wag kang maniniwala sa paligid mo
(Hindi lahat ay totoo)
Mga naririnig at nakikita mo
(Isa-isang isipin 'to)
Piliin mo ang iniidolo
(Mga ginagawa't binibigkas)
Dahil pag-usad ay hindi ganun kadulas
Kung ika'y makata sa pinas

Kamusta ka na idol
Ako nga pala si Elmer
Ikaw ang aking idol
Ang idol ko na rapper

Mula nang marinig ko
Ang kanta mong simpleng tao
Ako ay nabaliw nung
Nilabas mo pa yung lando
May bago ka bang album
Penge naman ng kopya
Meron ako nung luma
Ang kaso nga lang pirata
Sumusulat din ako
Marunong din akong mag rap
Gusto mo ipadinig ko sa'yo
Wag kang kukurap
Di lang ikaw ang idol ko
Pati rin yung stickfiggas
Bihira lang kasi
Sa pilipinas ang matikas
Mabilis kang magsalita
Pero gangsta ka ba
Meron ka na bang baril
Nakulong ka na ba
Ako rin hindi pa
Pero bukas baka sakali
May gang doon sa amin
Susubukan kong sumali

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poem by Sirius White
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