Take a cup of patience
Stir it with respect
Add a dash of wit
And a pinch of praise
No grilling or [pry]ing
Season with the spice of life
Top with love and kindness
And you’re all set—
Serve with the warmth of sunshine.
In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Poems Stirred, Not Shaken hosted by De who asks us to stir up a poem of exactly 44 words inspired by the word “stir.”Head over here to join the prompt!
Subo pamalandongon nga ang pagtan-aw sa mga kabayhanan karon sama sa usa ka value meal. Usa ka mabaw ng sukdanan nga giuyonan sa katilingban. Nila, niya, nimo.
Pero dili ako.
Wala koy mga legs ug thighs nga magpanghinam ka og paak, aduna koy duha ka bagtak nga gipagahi na sa panahon. Mga tuhod nga dili na daling mangurog. Mga tiil nga nanggamot– usa ka timailhan nga dili ko daling mamiya. Pero andam sad mudagan palayo sa mga way pulos.
Wala koy breast nga imong gipangita kay, sa tinood lang, ang akong atubangan mura ra sad og nagtalikod. Ug kanang white meat? Ayaw nalang jud. Kay sa pila ka adlaw nga pagbabad sa ilawom sa kainit sa adlaw, mapa-bukid man o dagat, dugay ra kong nasunog. Sorry na, dili sad ko ka-afford ug gluta. Apan aduna koy dakong kasingkasing. Andam maghigugma sa isigkatawo. Kanila, kaniya, kanimo. Puno sa kalipay ug kasakit sa mga kaagi pero nagpabiling naay lugar para sa mga bag-ong higayon, sa mga bag-ong hagikhik.
Ug bisan paborito ni nako kaayo, wala sad koy wings nga ikadalit. Adunay koy mga braso nga bisan dili kaayo kusgan pwede ra masaligan. Aduna koy mga kamot nga andam mugunit, musuporta, mutabang taliwala sa kahayahay ug kalisod. Mga kamot nga niagi nag samad ug paso gikan sa mga sayop. Mga kamot nga gikubal na sa kakugi sa pagsuwat, sa pagtrabaho.
Maong ayaw ko isama sa usa ka value meal. Dili ko chicken. Ug dili sad ko chicks. Kay ang bili sa usa ka babaye dili ra taman sa makita sa mga mata.
Ang kada usa ka babaye adunay bili ug walay sukdanang gikinahanglan.
As we march into a new month, we are reminded of a very important celebration. That is, Women’s Month. It is a time for commemorating the history of women’s impact to the world, raising awareness of issues women are facing worldwide, and uplifting women’s dignity. And though this should not only be a month-long celebration but a daily one, we are given a special chance honor the women of the past, present and future every March.
I wrote this Visayan spoken word poem for last year’s International Women’s Day. I did not publish it on this blog because I was planning to have it translated to English. But language really does have magic. No matter how grammatically correct we interpret it with another tongue, the feeling and conviction won’t be the same. In the end, I gave up. I just hope we have a way of understanding each other beyond words…
Here’s to all beautiful women out there. Stand tall! ❤
“Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.”
The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everyone.
Angie Thomas’ novel revolves around this redefined meaning of THUG LIFE by Tupac Shakur, popularly known as 2Pac.
It follows 16-year-old Starr Carter whose uneasy balance between her poor neighborhood and her fancy suburban school is shattered when she witnesses the shooting of her best friend at the hands of a police officer. His name is Khalil, but the world calls him a thug. Everyone wants to know what went down that night. But Starr’s decision to stay silent or to speak comes with a risk for her people and her life.
Some people snicker at the thought of reading books under the young adult genre. They have this stereotyped belief that YA novels are shallow, sappy and superficial. They rarely see it as an avenue for discussing socio-political issues. But Angie Thomas proves these people wrong.
Without mincing her words, she delves into the most delicate and controversial subjects in America and the world today: racism, oppression, privilege and broken justice system. The book is thought-provoking without being preachy. It gave me different perspectives to look into. It made me introspect on what I have done and what I would do when faced with these issues. Other than posting about the hashtags and signing every petition there is, do I have it in me to act against racism, oppression or injustice?
In the end, this novel goes to warn the society that what it gives (hate/violence/injustice) to little infants (the poor/minority/less fortunate) will always come to haunt them. The THUG LIFE cycle continues…
Today, I will not romanticize love.
Ours isn’t spellbinding or a gift from the gods and goddesses. Nor does it have to do with an arrow piercing two hearts together at the perfect time and place. It’s far from orphic to begin with and the universe isn’t always on our side.
Ours is bitter and sweet. Love and hate colliding— an endless cycle of cuddles and fights. It is coming back after hundreds of walk outs. And we never learn. We keep messing things up only to patch them in the end. With music, long walks on a moonlit night, laughter.
Ours is a downright matter of choice. Holding on to what keep us together rather than those that tear us apart.
Sharing another old IG post for Monday Musings.
I’m not an expert in all matters of the heart but if there is one thing I have been writing about and has come to prove firsthand, it’s about love being a choice. It is seeing the beauty and the ugly in a person — and choosing to embrace them both. 😊
It’s killing me softly, love is. But I wouldn’t mind this kind of death.
Icarus didn’t aim to burn but he knew it was coming. He felt the wax scorching his back and saw the feathers falling off his wings. He could have stopped but there is so much we do not know about flying.
And, perhaps, this is how I refuse to be. To be like the trolls and sprites who must have watched Icarus in shame. Knowing that they never tried. Clueless of how great it must have felt. Forever wondering why Icarus chose such kind of death.
Two years ago, I wrote this with a promise to myself to do things scared.
I have always been a hermit, preferring the comfort of solitude and quiet. Always been a hopeless romantic, too good with words yet too afraid to apply it.
But here I am, fast forward to 2020, appreciating the beauty of connection. With nature and people. Wide-eyed, silly grin plastered on my face and a whole lot treasured moments to reminisce.
I’m still a hermit and connecting can at times be a struggle. Still a romantic yet now a hopeful one. Definitely still scared, but you know what?
Like Nike, let’s just do it.
Like BDO, let’s just find away.
Fighting! 😊
Having spent seven years in the concrete jungles of Cebu gave me a pair of eyes that looks at province life with extra appreciation and love. Like most people around my age, I started craving for the simplicity and warmth that rural places have to offer. Going home for me has become more than just reuniting with my family. It has now become a form of healing.
At the height of ticking off #bucketlists and #travelgoals, more and more places are “discovered” each day, topping the trends on Facebook and Instagram. While this is essentially harmless, I personally don’t like the idea of calling every place a tourist spot. I believe that, in a way, we rob it of its personality.
To set an example, let me take you to my hometown.
Continue reading “There are no such thing as tourist spots in Bung-aw”
“Say ‘I love you’ now because tomorrow is never promised.”
Sadly, people nowadays think the phrase is synonymous to either a lie or a form of vanity. Some hold back their emotions, afraid of what others might say. Yes, “I love you” should not — and should never be — randomly thrown away. But if you truly mean it, fuck the rules. You don’t have to shout it to the world. You just have to say it to him, to her, to them. We live in a society filled with too much sadness, hate and depression. And though most of the times action speaks louder than words, there will always be days that it works the other way around. Sometimes it will be words they will be holding on to when you’re far away. It will be words they will be holding on to when you’re both chained to your desks on a busy day. It will be words they will be holding on to when they’re locked in a room with a bottle of pills. It will be words they will be holding on to when they’re on their deathbeds. So don’t hold those words back. Say it to your loved ones, your family, your friends. Spread love.
Today we are surrounded by man and his creations. Man is inescapable, everywhere on the globe, and nature is a fantasy, a dream of the past, long gone.
My first foray into the written world of Michael Crichton was Congo. James, who loves the man as much as Dan Brown, never missed to mention his works whenever we talk about books. So I guess this is where curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back comes in.
The 1980 sci-fi novel centers on an expedition searching for rare blue diamonds and investigating the mysterious deaths of a previous expedition in the dense tropical rainforest of the Congo. At first I was worried that I’d be stuck in the complicated science and technical jargon but as it turns out, Crichton is a great de-jargonizer. I found myself immediately engaged in the story that capsulized science, history, and geography in each and every page.
Which brings me to this week’s WQW, Iron and Ironies. Congo left me emotionally, mentally and morally disturbed. In a simple story it raised provocative questions that I found hard to answer.
To what extent is animal cruelty? Is it limited to performing experiments/animal research? How about throwing lobsters on a boiling pot? Sticking pigs on bamboo poles? Exterminating rats? Do ALL animals have rights or just a selected few? Does man get to give them the reason to stay alive as a species?
These questions led me to reflect on our deeply ingrained habit of meat eating, on the equality among animals, and man’s idea of speciesism. I know there are multiple sides to these multifaceted issues and I would love to hear a thing or two from you. 🙂
It’s easier to laugh it off. To pit women who put on a full make up against those who don’t. This culture of incriminating women of their choices — the way they look or the way they dress — must end. Women can put on make up or choose to bare their freckles and dark spots. They can wear LBDs and stiletto or just plain shirt and baggy pants. Truth is, we can always do both if we choose to. So stop this duality, this sick comparison of nonsense. Because we are our own expectation and reality.
And so much more in between. 🌻💚
