To My Wife

(A Valentine's blog for my wife posted in Friendster, February 14, 2008)

Well folks, it's Vday once more!
Sad thing about this day is that it falls 1 day short of payday, meaning, most of us, by this time have little or no more budget for a valentine's day gift or date! Bummer!
Take my case for instance. I'm so poor-doy right now that I only got my wife "pichi-pichi" last night when I got home---I didn't even get the chance to tell her it's her valentine's present until this morning! In fairness, the "pichi-pichi" was real treat! But one thing's for certain, the situation surely sapped the life out of romance! The whole fiasco turned even worse when I found a box of chocolates and a card from my dear wife in my bag this morning! Darn! How do I top that one?!
No dough, so buying a present would be out of the question! Well since I've got of 45 minutes travel time to the office I might as well make good use of it and wrote a poem:

To My Wife by Carlos Macarayan (February 2008)

Each day with you I celebrate
Every moment I treasure
Your smile,
Your kiss,
Your warm embrace,
I keep them all in my heart.
Every once in while
I'll pick from these memories
and reminisce,
To give me comfort in my solitude,
And Hope in my despair,
You are my anchor.
When I close my eyesI see you

The warmth of your smile

Exorcising all my fears

Keeping me sane

In this insane world.

Alanis' Angst

Inspired by the song "Ironic" by Alanis Morisette...

Alanis' Angst by Carlos Macarayan (1996)

Tell me Alanis
The story of your life,
About the man who hurt you
bad...and
The guy that would make you
Glad...
Tell me about your days
With the salvation army
Singing your songs
to the deaf
Trying to tell them your story---what a shame
Now look whose ears are plugged.
It truly is ironic---
Life, I mean
The Pauper
Now a zillionaire
Basking in the glitter of the paparazzi
Smiling amidst naked feet.
Let is all out Alanis---
All your hidden anger
And the pain that so burdened
your heart
Salving it with melody
The song of your life.

The Day We Met

The Day We Met by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

We met one summer day in March
In the revelry of the blazing yellow sky,
Wearing your Sunday dress in pastel ellegance,
Your hazel brown eyes dancing about
Squinting...
Gazing at the ethereal spendor
of the Monetian sun...
On cobblestone path
You strolled
In the pageantry of nature's beauty
As the sunflowers stood in ovation
While the cypresses
Swayed and danced
To the rhythm
of your every step...
You were a sight like no other
The envy of the Louve
The avatar of every artist's dream
The scent of you filling the air
Sending me in oblivion
A moment etched in the Parthenon
of my mind...

Sorry

I have ghostwritten for a lot of my friends during my seminary days and if I'm to count the number of girls I got to court through my pen---I can say that I have had a lot of girlfriends during those times. The thing is, what I write on paper I cannot say when face to face with the opposite sex. I guess my gift for writing is to compensate for my being "torpe".

Even after we've gone our separate ways some of my former classmates would call me to commission my writing skills. This one was for a friend who got into some sort of a misunderstanding with a girl he's courting. They got hitched after a year.

Sorry by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

The thought of having
hurt you---
Fills me with dread,
Like an arrow lost in flight
Listless and wrenched,
The pervading pain,
Breaking my heart in two
Which only
The salve of your forgiveness
Can heal---I'm sorry...

Revenge

I wrote this after watching the movie "House of the Spirits". Such cruel tragedy!

Revenge by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

The wrath of a vengeful heart
demands a reckoning,
Against the same blood that
spawned such sin,
Boiling with anger
The broken mind ravages and raves
Blinded by the fire that rages
From deep within...

Life

Life by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

Life is but a phase
A state of being
In Love...
In Pain...
In Trepidation...
The ephemeral circumstance
Of feeling...
Struggling...
Striving...
To make a difference
In this abstract existence...

Innocence

The book "To Kill a Mockingbird" (Harper Lee) really got me riled up that i got to write two poems. If you haven't read it yet I suggest you do. It's a really nice book to ponder on.

Innocence by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

Is a young child's heart
That sees through the barrier
of color and race,
Unblemished by the vexation
of prejudice and bias
Innocence...
Is a child's subtlety of reason
That defy the interpolation
of avarice and greed,
His unending search for the light
amidst the darkness
Innocence...
Is a child's wanton naivete
That inhibits him
from fear and cowardice
The elixir that strenghtens him
to persevere and to stand fast
Innocence...
Is every child
Within us
That battles all our evils
And defies the logic
of the mature mind...

Sleepless

Written one sleepless night...

Sleepless by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

The silent night
drifts past,
Witnessed by the
crescent moon,
Its darkness---
A spell for dreams
and static thoughts...
Crickets in the shadows
The stacatto
of their opera,
Syncopated by
dog beats, and
The occasional rustle
of leaves,
Leaving me mesmerized,
Caught up in a labyrinth
of Stravinskian rhythm...
Still,
I remain awake
Nothing to do
But stare, and
Listen...
Another one of those
restless beings
In the dead of the night

Eternal

Eternal by Carlos Macarayan(1996)

Your picture flashes
From time to time
Intruding
In my solitude
Whispering...carressing
My lonely heart
Keeping me awake
With countless memories
Of moments that could have been
But never were...
In the silence of the corridor
I hear your voice
Enveloping me
Possessing me
Calling me...
You are a love
Lost---
In the labyrinth
of the past
The Phantom
That haunts
My restless soul
Cursing me
To the plight of longing
For you---in Eternity.

The Lonely Journey Home

I used to take the bike to and from work when I was just a service crew and going home at night was real something...got me a real close encounter with a bat once---let's just say we got to bond together for a little while!

The Lonely Journey Home by Carlos Macarayan(1994)

Alone on a deserted highway
Not a soul in sight
Only you, the tall "dayami", and
The symphonic croaking of frogs
Accompanying your every step...
Like swimming in murky waters
The darkness envelopes you
Heart pumping as
The rush of wind buffets
Cool blows upon your face...
Fear,
Often times would cling
To your being, and
As you go deeper into the night
You fight,
To keep control
Wrestling with ghouls and goblins
In your schizophernic mind...
But as the clouds give way to the moon
You see,
The reason for your journey
Illuminated by the laughter of children,
The Joy that pervades, and
Banishes all the fears,
Exorcising the anxieties of
The lonely journey...Home

My Friend, Ren

A birthday poem for a former colleague, Ren-Ren, ages ago...where ever she is I hope she's happy...

My Friend, Ren by Carlos Macarayan(1995)

I have a friend
Whose name is Ren
A real shiner
so says my pen
In a crowd,
She won't be ignored
For no matter how small
She'll be endowed
The queen of the ball
She has ivory white skin
Which looks good with yellow
A china doll face
Which is divine when mellow
Her rich brown hair
Cut down to a trim
Making her fair
Sexy and slim...ows?
Anyway,
It's her birthday todaySo let's give her her way
A year older
I guess she'll be bolder
But,
Come what may
A friend she'll stay

A Secret Place

A Secret Place by Carlos Macarayan(1995)

Often times
I'm in a blank
Thinking thoughts, and
Speaking words, which
trails the air
Into nothingness
Secrets,
A life long of secrets
Spoken only
To walls, and
Silent corridors
Singing songs
In a theater
Full of chairs
Memories,
Buried deep in
an abyss
In dreams, and
Empty castles
In the sky
Where the phantoms roam
And the princess dance.

Poems

I wrote this as my daughter Chesca's school assignment...

Poems by Carlos Macarayan(1995)

Is a treasure chest
Of emotions,
Spoken,
In metaphor, and
Vivid imagery,
A catharsis,
for turmoil and angst...
The trumpet for happiness, and
A monologue
for LOVE...

Child's Play

This was written when I was baby sitting my son Ringo when he 4 years...

Child's Play by Carlos Macarayan(1994)

To and fro,
To and fro,
Screaming and screeching,
Crouching...
Stalking,
The fiend with the crooked smile...
SHU-WING! Goes the man
in the dark suit,
"I am...Batman!"

Reverie (1989)

I wrote this poem while I was still courting my soon to be wife...

Reverie by Carlos Macarayan(1989)

Lend me your ears and
hear me say, "I love you"
Hold my hands and
feel me say, "I love you"
Yes I do and now you know,
That love for you is what makes me glow
Now, as I hold your hands and look
into your eyes
I ask, "Do you love me too?"
Am I wrong in hearing the words,
"Yes I do..."

Thinking of You

I co-wrote this poem in 1992 with a friend who was courting a girl(who soon became his wife)...

Thinking of You
by Joel Lee and Carlos Macarayan(1992)

It was a long cold night
in my little sleeping box
Unable to get a yawn nor wink
Amidst my sleeping suit and sox.
And so I thought of writing
A poem for you, my dear
Reminiscing those prcious moments
To exorcise all my fears.
But then I thought...
I am neither skilled nor capable
To think of words that rhyme
And so there I was flustered
Thinking hard while playing with my dime.
Ahh, but the thought of you
Gives me such strenght and inspiration
To go beyond myself,
And conquer this trepidation...
And so I think of you and sigh---
My hands and my mind possessed
As I find my quill pouring out words
That I have long wanted to confess...
I love you so and I always will
No matter the adversity
You will always be in my heart
For eternity.

A Song

Lost in the ghettoes of my soul
Is a song,
Cherished,
Yet not sung,
Hidden in the cavernous
convolution of my being...
In the mouth of a mute,
Shouting, struggling to be free,
But,
Fate had sealed the door,
And there it dwells,
Forever,
In the dungeon...
...of my soul...

To Kill a Mockingbird

A mockingbird sits
perched on a song,
Throating the mellifluous
voices of cherubs,
Cleaning our miseries---
With the innocense of their opus...
His glolden brown hair
Glistening,
In the early morning sun,
Rousing us with music
Of yet another
glorious day...
But,
The hunter in men
Harkens for blood
Anesthesing all morals
Chained to the lust
that so palgued him...
And so,
The men go about the hunt
Seeking his prey with hawk eyes
Mind a blank
Except for the thrill
of the kill...
In the meantime,
The mockingbird is unperturbed
Unmindful of the looming specter
of danger,
Singing his repertoire
In blissful naivite...
Then ran
The echoing boom of death
And the predator whistling away
Satisfied with the blood
that so stained the earth,
While the mockingbird lies still...
(inspired by the book by Harper Lee)