Kailan ko kaya maisusulat ang kasunod na eksena?
Sa mga papel na nilimot na ng panahon, mababalikan ko pa kaya ang mga kuwentong sinimulan? Maraming tanong na gustong sagutin. Nais na makitang muli ang taong naglakas loob na suungin ang pagsubok na kaakibat ng pagsusulat. Naging matapang sa loob at labas ng silid-aralan. Ngiti ang inialay sa iilang eksenang pinili at ipinagpatuloy. Tinapos, ipinasa.
Sa pagtatapos ng kabanatang binuo ng apat na taon, kinalimutan ko na nga lang ba talaga? Mula nang maranasan ang takbo ng mundo sa labas ng nakasanayang buhay sa unibersidad, nahirapang balikan ang tawag ng mga ideya at mga kuwentong nabubuo sa bawat nakikita. Muling natakot. Nagpadala sa kabog ng dibdib at mga boses na nangungutya sa loob ng aking isipan. Natigilan, pilit na nakalimot.
Sana mahanap na ang tamang panahon upang mabalikan at makakuwentuhang muli ang sariling naging matapang. Sana may magtulak o magpaalala na huwag tuluyang bitiwan ang pagsusulat.
Isang tulang isinulat ng aking kaibigan mula sa unibersidad. Isang likha na aking masayang ibinabahagi sa iba. 🙂
Ang sagot ko sa tulang ito ay ipababasa ko pa lang muna sa kanya. Baka kapag nagkalakas ng loob ay mailagay na rin dito sa susunod.
Ever since I’ve come across the videos of Sarah Kay in college, I learned to appreciate words and the beautiful rhythm of spoken word poetry. Personally, I don’t think that I have the courage to present my poems or other written works out loud that’s why I love listening to others confidently sharing their works. How brave are they to openly share their thoughts and receive praises (and criticisms). It’s stunning and inspiring.
The first video that I’ve seen:
Words, experiences, and reflections. I find these all helpful elements in the creation of poetry, in all forms and any lengths.
Sarah Kay’s not the only one I constantly listen to, I also follow some of the works of Phil Kaye. They both share that deep yet relatable experience in their spoken word.
Women wish to be loved not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves. – Henri Frederic Amiel
Long hugs, tight hugs
Whenever I try to write something out of the blue, there are dozens of ideas popping out of my mind. Sometimes my writing can’t run as fast as the thoughts spreading all over my head. This is when I become too lazy to browse through the words, images, or sounds under the pile. So, I begin a story with colorful settings, engaging actions, interesting characters, but as it progresses, the life withers. Slowly. Fading. My mind catches too many distracting new sights, music, words, etc. etc.
This tale goes on and on for days, weeks, months, or even years. A great story half untold lies beneath the mountain of wavering spirits and forgotten dreams. Sometimes I am able to walk back. Scan those unfinished works and do my best to continue where I left. But the feeling isn’t the same. The memories are only fragments of myself. Change is inevitable. That half-written great poem, short story, or novel will never be the same. All of those beginnings might sound inspiring, charming, or even fascinating. In reality, none of them will have a great ending.
I write like this. As I learn more about myself, the random, annoying side of me takes over. Great beginning, but ultimately failed and dragging ending leads the writing.
“When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.” -Jodi Picoult
I need a great joke right now. I want to smile or even laugh so hard that my heart feels numb and my jaw hurts so bad. When tears slowly run down my face, people will think those are happy tears.
But maybe what I really need is a hug. That warm, gentle yet tight hug. A touch that lingers. No need for words. Just.
Hug me, please.
Words with powerful meanings beyond what I could express
Like a pile of dry clothes hanging on the balcony.
Forgotten until needed.
I have a back pain from all the words unsaid I must carry every day.
The wind is whispering to me you have found someone else.
I had an argument with my heart early this morning, but none of us could slam the door.
We share the same one.
I haven’t told you everything about how I feel.
But you could feel everything I haven’t told.
You are my everything.
I am letting you go like a balloon, so you…
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