The last period written,
the last page completed.
That last page turned
and another chapter done.
That act was over.
Take a bow my character
make your call final.
Before you go,
make sure you left
no lines unsaid
and then walk away,
don't look back.
I matter to myself.
There goes my character.
He made quite an impact
in my book.
He could've continued
doing so had he not
decided to retire.
I now embark on writing
the next chapter of my book.
Can I find another character
to fill the void
that he left?
Will my book still be
as colorful as before?
Friday, November 23, 2007
the morning after
A melody of yesterday
haunts me today
sweet and soft the tune that was
the song brought life
to what was just an existence
Yesterday,
the sun revealed what was
veiled by darkness
everything was so perfect
until dusk came
Dusk descended upon the perfection
so suddenly
darkness slowly hid
the beauty of the land
darkness conquered my joy
The night seems so long
I yearn to bring joy
back to me
Joy, so elusive
sorrow resides in my heart
Alas, sorrow claimed my soul
Death is not far behind
sorrow slowly claims
my life
death lurks
in the shadows
I refuse to give in
without seeing the sun rise
A last glimpse
of my joy
Before it again
gives way to sorrow
All I can do now
is wait with joyful anticipation
the sorrowful sunrise...
092297 Sunday / 1:09 am
haunts me today
sweet and soft the tune that was
the song brought life
to what was just an existence
Yesterday,
the sun revealed what was
veiled by darkness
everything was so perfect
until dusk came
Dusk descended upon the perfection
so suddenly
darkness slowly hid
the beauty of the land
darkness conquered my joy
The night seems so long
I yearn to bring joy
back to me
Joy, so elusive
sorrow resides in my heart
Alas, sorrow claimed my soul
Death is not far behind
sorrow slowly claims
my life
death lurks
in the shadows
I refuse to give in
without seeing the sun rise
A last glimpse
of my joy
Before it again
gives way to sorrow
All I can do now
is wait with joyful anticipation
the sorrowful sunrise...
092297 Sunday / 1:09 am
sand and poison
Grains of sand in a vessel of love
Shards of the glass
wind, gone with the wind,
blown by the wind
the sands of time,
the sands of memory.
Cover them with thine hands;
blood trickles down from thine palms;
perish of poison
poison in thine heart?
weep not for yesterday.
Let its pieces be blown away.
Let the love of long ago
be buried in thine hearts
but don't let it poison thine soul...
Sept. 16, 1997 10:37 am
Shards of the glass
wind, gone with the wind,
blown by the wind
the sands of time,
the sands of memory.
Cover them with thine hands;
blood trickles down from thine palms;
perish of poison
poison in thine heart?
weep not for yesterday.
Let its pieces be blown away.
Let the love of long ago
be buried in thine hearts
but don't let it poison thine soul...
Sept. 16, 1997 10:37 am
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
untitled
Loving hurts.
Love some more till it hurts no more.
Love until you're numb to the pain.
But if the one you love,
takes you for granted, set him free.
Let him see that he needs your love.
If he comes back,
you'd know he needs you,
and that you're meant to be.
If he doesn't,
you know he is not for you,
and that the good times you had with him
were just those --- good times,
and that they are good for the memories.
If you are to shed a tear or two,
let them just be a tear or two.
It's no good to brood over his leaving you.
think of it this way,
that it's good to know the one you loved,
whom you dedicated your life to,
before you get involved too deep.
It would really hurt if you get too involved
and know in the end that he isn't
deserving of the love
you so unselfishly offered.
Loving is really simple.
It is the people who love
who makes it complicated so.
Love some more till it hurts no more.
Love until you're numb to the pain.
But if the one you love,
takes you for granted, set him free.
Let him see that he needs your love.
If he comes back,
you'd know he needs you,
and that you're meant to be.
If he doesn't,
you know he is not for you,
and that the good times you had with him
were just those --- good times,
and that they are good for the memories.
If you are to shed a tear or two,
let them just be a tear or two.
It's no good to brood over his leaving you.
think of it this way,
that it's good to know the one you loved,
whom you dedicated your life to,
before you get involved too deep.
It would really hurt if you get too involved
and know in the end that he isn't
deserving of the love
you so unselfishly offered.
Loving is really simple.
It is the people who love
who makes it complicated so.
About Steph
I met Steph sometime in the 2nd semester of 1996 when I was applying for membership in the UP Computer Society. She’s chinita, 5’9” and athletically-built that it’s no wonder she’s always being slated to join the volleyball and basketball teams in our organization. She’s fiercely spirited and very vocal about her opinions but ‘neath the seemingly hard exterior, she’s a thoughtful and loyal friend.
It was in the late 1997 that we became friends thanks to my falling out with my bf and her falling out with her best friend. Needless to say, my bf and her best friend hooked up. So there we were, both miserable. At least we were miserable together and things got better soon. She’s a couple of years older than me and my friends but she fit in our group well. As a Computer Science major, she’d help us or at least entertain us while we slave over machine problems. Steph was a constant source of joy to my friends and I. She can always find something funny to talk about or relate an event for over an hour when the event only happened in 5 minutes. You always have this feeling that you were a 1st hand spectator after she finishes with her stories. You’d know the smallest detail yet you will never feel the least bit bored listening to her.
I remember one summer when I had to give her a ride everywhere because she sprained her foot from a volleyball (or basketball) game. She’d be sporting her new crutches and I’d be her faithful driver. Since she lives near my place, it wasn’t any hassle at all. One weekend, I picked her up because she wanted to binge out at McDonalds, S’mall. And binged we did. I ordered while she paid for all the food in the menu. I kid you not. We had one of everything and shared ‘em all.
We’d have shouting sessions in the car --- not the angry type. It was more of letting out the tension in your body by shouting in a closed car. I’d usually park the car in the main road of Loyola Grand Villas (our usual route home) where there are no houses. It was the late 90s and there weren’t that much houses yet in the posh village. Steph would shout first, and then I’d scream. It was liberating.
Even my Mom loved her. Steph endears herself to anyone, everyone. She was a constant guest in our house, watches TV in my parents’ room, plays with my brother on the playstation and would strike up conversations with my Nanay.
In February 10, 1998, Tuesday, I was wrapping things up at our tambayan. I have an exam the next day so I was hurrying home. It was 6 pm. Although my car’s plate number ended in 3 which means I can’t be seen in the streets before 7 pm (coding), lest the police catches me and gets my license, I decided to risk it. Steph still had a class to attend to till 7 pm and I couldn’t wait up for her. Since their teacher wasn’t in yet, she kept on coming back to the tambayan asking me to wait up for her. I pleaded and she said, “Sige na nga. Kanina pa ko paalam ng paalam, pero andito pa rin ako.” So I said my goodbye and headed home.
It was around 10 pm when Tintin, Steph’s friend called me up to tell me that Steph was involved in a holdup. She didn’t give me a lot of details --- only that she’s in the Amang Rodriguez Hospital near my home. So I asked my cousin, Allan and brother, Maynard to drive me to the hospital so we can check how Steph was doing. The hospital was filled with people and the reception personnel were busy. So, Maynard and I searched the entire place instead but we didn’t see Steph. We went back to the entrance and interviewed the guard and he told us that Steph got in DOA. I didn’t hear what else he said only that my friend is dead. Maynard got the details and Allan drove us to the funeraria. Allan checked the body and it was her. I didn’t want to look. I only wanted to remember Steph alive and happy.
Steph died due to a knife wound that pierced her heart. She tried fighting off the hold-upper who snatched her bracelet.
Steph heard all my lamentations about becoming an adult and handling relationships. We helped each other work out our troubles and came out of triumphant. After we both got over ourselves, we looked at our lives with positivity and made sure that we always have intelligent conversations. With her, it wasn’t just fun and games; it was also learning from a sister and understanding why she is that way. From the life she led, I learned how to be strong and how to cope with whatever life throws at you.
But I lost her that night. I lost my friend.
I only knew Steph roughly for 2 years but they were good 2 years filled with good times.
If Steph could have lived in the 21st century, I’m pretty sure she’d be putting up a blog herself. This is a very short blog featuring some of Steph’s poems which she shared with me in those 2 short years. Until now, I find comfort in her words so I keep reading and rereading. I hope you find something here to comfort you too.
It was in the late 1997 that we became friends thanks to my falling out with my bf and her falling out with her best friend. Needless to say, my bf and her best friend hooked up. So there we were, both miserable. At least we were miserable together and things got better soon. She’s a couple of years older than me and my friends but she fit in our group well. As a Computer Science major, she’d help us or at least entertain us while we slave over machine problems. Steph was a constant source of joy to my friends and I. She can always find something funny to talk about or relate an event for over an hour when the event only happened in 5 minutes. You always have this feeling that you were a 1st hand spectator after she finishes with her stories. You’d know the smallest detail yet you will never feel the least bit bored listening to her.
I remember one summer when I had to give her a ride everywhere because she sprained her foot from a volleyball (or basketball) game. She’d be sporting her new crutches and I’d be her faithful driver. Since she lives near my place, it wasn’t any hassle at all. One weekend, I picked her up because she wanted to binge out at McDonalds, S’mall. And binged we did. I ordered while she paid for all the food in the menu. I kid you not. We had one of everything and shared ‘em all.
We’d have shouting sessions in the car --- not the angry type. It was more of letting out the tension in your body by shouting in a closed car. I’d usually park the car in the main road of Loyola Grand Villas (our usual route home) where there are no houses. It was the late 90s and there weren’t that much houses yet in the posh village. Steph would shout first, and then I’d scream. It was liberating.
Even my Mom loved her. Steph endears herself to anyone, everyone. She was a constant guest in our house, watches TV in my parents’ room, plays with my brother on the playstation and would strike up conversations with my Nanay.
In February 10, 1998, Tuesday, I was wrapping things up at our tambayan. I have an exam the next day so I was hurrying home. It was 6 pm. Although my car’s plate number ended in 3 which means I can’t be seen in the streets before 7 pm (coding), lest the police catches me and gets my license, I decided to risk it. Steph still had a class to attend to till 7 pm and I couldn’t wait up for her. Since their teacher wasn’t in yet, she kept on coming back to the tambayan asking me to wait up for her. I pleaded and she said, “Sige na nga. Kanina pa ko paalam ng paalam, pero andito pa rin ako.” So I said my goodbye and headed home.
It was around 10 pm when Tintin, Steph’s friend called me up to tell me that Steph was involved in a holdup. She didn’t give me a lot of details --- only that she’s in the Amang Rodriguez Hospital near my home. So I asked my cousin, Allan and brother, Maynard to drive me to the hospital so we can check how Steph was doing. The hospital was filled with people and the reception personnel were busy. So, Maynard and I searched the entire place instead but we didn’t see Steph. We went back to the entrance and interviewed the guard and he told us that Steph got in DOA. I didn’t hear what else he said only that my friend is dead. Maynard got the details and Allan drove us to the funeraria. Allan checked the body and it was her. I didn’t want to look. I only wanted to remember Steph alive and happy.
Steph died due to a knife wound that pierced her heart. She tried fighting off the hold-upper who snatched her bracelet.
Steph heard all my lamentations about becoming an adult and handling relationships. We helped each other work out our troubles and came out of triumphant. After we both got over ourselves, we looked at our lives with positivity and made sure that we always have intelligent conversations. With her, it wasn’t just fun and games; it was also learning from a sister and understanding why she is that way. From the life she led, I learned how to be strong and how to cope with whatever life throws at you.
But I lost her that night. I lost my friend.
I only knew Steph roughly for 2 years but they were good 2 years filled with good times.
If Steph could have lived in the 21st century, I’m pretty sure she’d be putting up a blog herself. This is a very short blog featuring some of Steph’s poems which she shared with me in those 2 short years. Until now, I find comfort in her words so I keep reading and rereading. I hope you find something here to comfort you too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
