Category Archives: Poetry

I’m Not Scientific


I’m not scientific.
It’s not in my demographic.
I can not easily state an event so historic,
nor solve challenging problems in Arithmetic.

I tried to be analytic,
but that wouldn’t be too humanistic.
I find it difficult to find means so economic…
Or maybe I’m getting too drastic.

Is there even any logic?
It looks like an onset of panic!
Not to sound hypochondric,
but let’s face it… I’m not bionic.

                                                        – Mitz Mercado

Gestalt Prayer


Been running into Gestalt theories lately.  Thought I’d share this:

I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I,
and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.
If not, it can’t be helped.

(Fritz Perls, “Gestalt Therapy Verbatim”, 1969)

 

The Perfect Breeze…


It eludes me.

Searching for its presence… words escaping how to describe it.

It teases me.

Rifling through my senses of memories that have passed…
longing to turn time back to simpler days.

It soothes me.

Coming at the most unexpected moments, caressing my face…
exuding comfort and contentment.

One Day at a Time


One of my favorite lines that made me feel better was “to take things one day at a time“.  My classmate had one small bookmark with a poem about this.  It’s in one of my old wallets and I wasn’t able to transfer it yet.  I can’t remember the exact words but reading it through the end always gave me a renewed sense of hope and inner peace.

With the latest developments at work, I haven’t been able to boost myself up.  Until this evening.  So I’m sharing this poem with you guys.  Here’s One Day at a Time by Sandi Lyn Schraut.

Today is just today,
this minute, this second
Today is not ruled by yesterday
Only flavored by it
Tomorrow is a blank slate
Without chalk that crosses time
We cannot write on it
We can have hopes and dreams
But tomorrow will come with,
Its own agenda
Today we work and hope tomorrow comes
Without the pain of past, distant memories
In it’s own right,
today,
this minute,
this second
Is all we have
One day at a time
One day at a time!

MASKS


I’ve always fancied masks.  More so now that there are a number of designs available in common malls.  Too bad though that I don’t have funds to start my collection.  Anyway, I read somewhere a certain Mask poem that I wasn’t able to memorize or grab the author of.  So I’m searching for it over the internet.  Still haven’t found it, but I read one poem that I’d like to share.  Here goes:

The Mask

Ollie Lind

“What is that?” I hear you say,
as if you didn’t know.
It’s with me every waking step,
everywhere I go.

It keeps me free from other’s gaze,
shelters me from harm.
With it’s help I solve the maze,
no panic, only calm.

Yet wearing it, I live a lie,
my certainty it shatters.
If you believe that honesty
is all that really matters.

To be myself is what I need,
my fear takes me to task.
Why can’t I simply be as me,
and live without my mask?

Don’t Quit


A poem so apt to what I’m feeling right now.  This was one poem which was shared to me during my high school days.  As a Preparatory Military Training (PMT) cadette, we were tasked to memorize this one for recitation purposes, and for boosting our morale.  Hope this still works for me now.

DON’T QUIT

hen things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit —
Rest if you must, but don’t quit.

ife is strange with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a fellow turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out.
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow —
You may succeed with another blow.

ften the goal is nearer than
It seems to a fair and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late when night came down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

uccess is failure turned inside out —
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar,
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit, —
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

— Author Unknown —

With the things going wrong right now, I hope to still be able to smile.

DON’T QUIT

How Do I Love Thee


I came across this poem some time ago while browsing over the web. Feeling a little mushy, I just want to share it to all those who are in love, the romantics at heart, and for those who may have poem-reading assignments.

Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.


SIGH.

How sweet. Will someone, someday, feel the same way and say these words to me? Oooppss! Naked! LOL.

I Do Not Love You


Sharing this with you.  A poem by Pablo Neruda.  I heard it when I watched Patch Adams.

XVII (I Do Not Love You)
Pablo Neruda

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 
Sharing this with you.  A poem by Pablo Neruda.  I heard it when I watched Patch Adams.

Patch Adams (played by Robin Williams) was finally able to finish reading this poem to his girlfriend. Unfortunately, it was over her grave.

Such a sad note in the part of the movie. Losing someone you love deeply to a heinous crime, questions your purpose in life. I am amazed how altruistic other people are even when faced with painful realities.

I hope to be as resilient as that.

* Just a short trivia though. In real life, it was Patch Adams’ friend who was killed and not his girlfriend.

If You Forget Me


I had a hard time remembering this poem.  I forgot the title, and I forgot who wrote it.  I couldn’t even remember any exact line.  I knew that it was read by Madonna in a literature audio played during our English class in high school.  Last resort?  Google.  And here it is!  I thought I’d share it.

If You Forget Me
Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Thanks, Pablo Neruda!

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I want you to know one thing. You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me. Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land. But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

What’s In A Song


That makes you sing along,
even when your lyrics are wrong,
you hum for the tune to belong?

What’s in a line
with no reason and rhyme,
like a song out of time
that makes it sound so fine?

What’s in a beat
that makes you jump up from your seat
and move your feet?

What’s in a tune
that speaks of fortune
hoping to come soon?

What’s in a melody
that your heart shares its symphony
tuning out the world’s cacophony?

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