Always like this, my head
held high against heaven
my hands against your chest,
ready to push away. At any
moment, I would cry, pull
you close, against heaven -
against me. Again and again.

-RCA

I wrote this way back in 2005. This is one of those poems that only I could fully understand. It holds a strong personal touch so it has little or no value at all when it comes to the communication part.

Kuya Neil views poetry as a form of communication with the same elements as normal verbal discourse. Do I even remember his views right? Up to this day, I still stray from his views. I'm still so young after all, rebellious. Maybe one day I'll come to appreciate them. For now, I'll settle with free free verse.

~~

Untitled
by RCA

He waited for such
a long time under
the heavy clouds, only
to be caught in floods
that made impassable folds
of tears and frustration.
Smiles seldom bloomed
when the rain fell down.
But his did, without preamble,
for he waited. And it shall
quench his thirst,
drown him even, in the
company of sky water.

#

spread out before us
are layers of text in neat piles.
we are hopeful that
before sunrise, they are digested
then spread out again
on our breakfast tables, refined,
tolerable;
a fine sheet of it adorning
the immaculate toast,
a replacement of our favorite
pineapple marmalade.

-RCA

poem number 121

poem # 121

his lips were as eager
as yours, sweeter than
the candies you gave me
as final peace offering;
his tongue, more pliant
than my patience I had
for your errors; still,
the affection remains
a tainted window, and
the winter stays, the
spring, frightened, the
summer delayed, the
autumn, betrayed. and I
return to my cup of tea.

#

This poem is still subject for revision. I just noticed, I've been using the word tongue in two consecutive instances for poetry purposes now. Weird.

Friendster post [11-3-06 at 7:40 pm]

I wrote this for APC over a year ago. I have not the chance to improve this poem. All the advice I got from fellow APCers, I have already forgotten. Perhaps I should dig up their old comments and use them for butchering this poem further.

If you're an amateur writer, there is never a finished poem. A poem goes through many processes before you can finally put it to rest and try your luck at having it published in your local paper or magazine. A Violet Dream is already edited but I won't post it yet. Not now. On my birthday maybe.

Hehehehe....

This poem was written because Kuya Neil made a writing prompt to use the theory of existentialism in poetry. I never understood what he said but I just wrote this stuff. Hahaha!

Saffron Serenity (edited again today before posting at 2:17pm)
by Rudolph C. Anongos Jr.

I am desperate
to hesitate
the voices that dictate
the decisions I make

I'll tell them to stop
with any luck I'll succeed
in persuading them
to shut their mouths up

They contain me,
hold back my jaws,
clip short my claws.
Sympathy’s never a reward.

They never did care
if crooked teachings
and preachings of theirs
led me astray. Period.

I really am a fool
Used and re-used over
And over again
Perhaps I always will.

#

[Added thoughts before posting. 2:21pm]

As I read the above post that I wrote over a year ago, I realized that the principle of editing and polishing poems does not only apply to amateur writers but to everyone else as well. Kuya Neil does have much influence on my views on this because he was the one who introduced the concept to me in the first place but with constant practice, I have found this concept quite true.

Because we are not Frost or Browning, I think it is only appropriate to look back at one's poems and assess if improvements should be made.

The Violet Dream

This was written way back when I was still in third year high school. It has undergone a lot of revisions, Kuya Neil's advices do work with poetry most, if not all, of the time, that so much of the stuff you'll be reading is a lot different from the original one, obviously. Haha!

**

The Violet Dream
by Rudolph C. Anongos Jr.


Lengthy words cannot express
When I'm lost the doubts possessed
Of thinking of submission
To my gloomy thoughts alone
You are the silver lining
I've so longed to get hold of

Your deep-set violet eyes
Pierce far down beyond my own
Hush now my dearest one
I will thaw your wintry nights

Inside my warmest embrace
Bitter memories may fade
And with your gentle repression
My pools of disquietude
Dry up, succumb to your lips

Overwhelmed by sadness
Simply because of my fear
Of letting go while here
Afloat on a waveless sea

Our inhibitions subside
Heartbeats quicken such as that
Time spares an ephemeral shift
To give way throughout the night

Feel my warmth and hold my hand
Feel my lips press yours softly
Your nightmares are chocolate stains
Washed away by suppressed tears

Hush now. Hush. Be calm, be still.
Feel my lips press yours softly
Utter not words of disbelief
Harbor not, feelings of guilt
Instead, close your eyes
I'll cover us with quilts
And beside you I will sleep
To nowhere will I go
For you are my violet dream
Dreams come true for all I know

#

The second one.

I posted Gossip as a comment at my own Friendster profile page and my cousin happened to read it. It's not the first time that she has read my poems since I have since made it a habit that I should post poems as a comment at my profile page.

She said it was nice and she told me that she wanted to read my other poems. Sadly, I don't have a compilation of all my poems. I made it a point to mention that when I replied. My other poems are stranded in Kuya Neil's A Poetry Club and the others are with Kei-chan. The others need revision too.

Contrary to popular belief, the writer should take time to reread and revise his poem if he sees it fit. The poem has to get pruned and mature at some point in its immortal life. That's what I learned after Kuya Neil told me that poems, indeed, can and should be polished.

Well, here's another poem that I wrote just a week ago. But the whole concept has been in my head for months already. I'm glad that I have written it down. I passed this one along with Gossip as a Paseo entry.

(Paseo is the official literary publication of my school.)

**

Marked
by Rudolph C. Anongos Jr.

In sun we’ll find a place to stay
beneath our lucid dreams that may,
in time turn into what is real,
if Time gives time for us to heal,

In moon we’ll both walk hand in hand,
on muddy puddles or on sand.
Should early downpours come, we’ll stay
beneath our lucid dreams ‘til day.

The fiercest foes were made this way.
Like you and I, the others say.
We are not ones with hate so strong,
still one of us won’t breathe for long.

Our flames of bloodlust, passion fans.
To this light rhythm, should we dance?
We are both marked. Our wills may sway.
Our lucid dreams all seem so gray.

**

And by this, I have made this journal the journal wherein all my poems will be placed along with my thoughts.

The first of many.

Gossip
by Rudolph C. Anongos Jr.

your mouth is,
the dancer on tiptoes,
shifting between the twilight
and the day as he
struggles with balance.

the dancer falls.
so does your tongue, but slips
instead,
dripping with spit,
a diluted solution
of sly verbal blows, curses galore
of your
insidious,
deity damned mind.

the dancer looks up
albeit shy now,
the mask of confidence broken.

your mouth
is, after all, not the dancer
for the dancer is human;
savage, unalloyed,

-holy

your mouth
is a ripe
event horizon,

it sucks.

[edited again, 8/9/08]