allow me to share the poem i wrote for A below. (you, my readers, get the full production; the students last night didn’t have the introduction. i was told to explain the introduction but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. they will never understand. nor bother to. so i just read the tagalog translation of my dear friend tito rolly) my voice caught at the apex of the poem but only the husband noticed; if i had not reined in my emotions, i would have burst into tears then and there. but i did not (whew!). that would have just been overboard, really. my raw emotions cannot be entrusted to such unreliable elements. nevah.here goes:
The following was written not by a poet but by someone who loves poetry, especially that which hooves to the work of the Victorian recluse, Emily Dickinson with her eternal vibrance. This poem’s only claim to literariness is thus: love for a great poet. everything else is visceral, of the gut and of the heart.
For You, from Svelte Rogue
after winter, a proper spring comes*
the trees are in slumber, the birds long gone
you’ve vanished, buried beneath feet of snow
i hate you for bringing these cold, long nights, this unbearable frost
reason fled with the last green leaf that had long fallen from the tree outside your window
my weapons were ice swords and glazed pebbles, sharp, heavy, and dull.
they clung to the panes, bitterness etched audibly
last weekend the sun didn’t set ‘til 6 — past the winter solstice, night is slowly succumbing to dawn’s creeping fingers
the birds have not returned and the trees are still bare
a breeze blows from the south, whispering a song that will not be ignored
how does one heal a spring tainted by hurtful words and thoughtless harangues?
one year hence, the light shines differently,
feelings housed in bottles where small ships once sailed
i’m sorry i hurt you, i’m sorry i was angry
i’m sorry we let friendship run away with spring.
too little, too late
but the shadow of my regret will always be cast
over the casket of friendship born in winter.
* title “inspired” by my favourite dickinson poem, “after great pain, a formal feeling comes”
13 february 2008
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Filipino, our mother tongue, reaches You in places my cherished English never will, and that is why I asked a good, a genuine lover of Tagalog words and painter of genuine Amorsolo lineage, to transpose my words into Filipino so it may reside in a place that will never be sullied by the whims and vagaries of inconstancy.
Para sa iyo, mula kay Svelte Rogue (sa tulong ng maginoong Rolly de los Santos)
matapos ang taglamig ay ang pagpasok ng sikat ng araw
ang mga puno’y nahimbing, pumalaot na ang mga ibon
naglaho ka sa aking paningin –nalibing sa malalim na niyebe
namuhi ako sa’yo sa pagdulot ng taglamig, itong mahabang kadiliman, ang di-mapukyaw na pagsiit ng poot sa aking kalamnan
tumakas ang talino kasama ang huling hibla ng luntiang dahon na matagal na nanguyakoy sa punong nakasulyap sa iyong bintana
ang aking sandata’y pawang yelong tabak na matalas at mga munting batong tumigas sa lamig — mapait, mahapdi sa puso’t kalamnan
nang nakaraang linggo’y hindi humupa ang araw ng alas – lampas sa gawi ng mundo kapag taglamig,
ang gabi’y unti-unting nagpaparaan sa unti-unting pag-agos ng bukang-liwayway
hindi pa rin nakabalik ang mga ibon at ang mga puno’y nanatiling tigang
ang simoy ng hangin ay bumubulong mula sa katimugan at ang hamon nito’y di maaaring talikdan
paano bang pahihilumin ang tagsibol na nasayaran ng masasakit na salita at walang pakundangang pagbatikos?
makalipas ang isang taon, iba na ang sikat ng araw bagama’t naroon pa rin ang mga saloobin, ngunit nakatanim na sa loob ng botelyang kung saang lumayag ang maliliit na barko
patawad na’t ika’y aking nasaktan,
patawad na’t hinayaan nating agawin ng ating pagkakaibigan ang tagsibol.
huli pa man, huli na
ang anino nitong paghingi ng patawad ay mananatiling nakatuon
sa kabaong ng pagkakaibigang isinilang sa taglamig.
ika-13 ng pebrero, 2008
Always Svelte Rogue 
What They’ve Said