Gauran duman

Wara takun mahadlok magsuray sa uran
dyan man ikaw sa akon tupad
indi man takun magdaragan
mapabasa man takun
nami man bay ang ramig kang tubig kang uran
parihas lang sang tubig sa uma.

Mahambal lng ran ang iba nga buang kita nga darwa
gapabasa sa uran
raw-ay ran bala magpabasa?
kung bal-an lang nanda,
ang tubig nga gabasa sa akon gawi
indi lng ana kang uran,
kag mas ramig pa gid ang akon nabatyagan,
ang uran, ramig lang sa sagwa,
mas ramig pa gid ang uran sa akon dughan.

Beyond Forgetting

By Rolando A. Carbonell

For a moment I thought I could forget you.
For a moment I thought I could still the restlessness in my heart.
I though the past could no longer haunt me – nor hurt me.
How wrong I was!
For the past, no matter how distant, is as much a part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life. You are so much a part of me — of my dreams, my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions – that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.
Many little delights and things remind me of you. Yes, I came. And would my pride mock my real feelings? Would the love song, the sweet and lovely smile on your face, be lost among the deepening shadows?
I have wanted to be alone. I thought I could make myself forget you In silence and in song… And yet I remembered.
For who could forget the memory of the once lovely, the once beautiful, the once happy world such as ours?
I came because the song that I kept through the years is waiting to be sung. I cannot sing it without you. The song when sung alone will lose the essence of its tune, because you and I had been one.
I have wanted this misery to end, because it is part of my restlessness. Can’t you understand? Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness of my feelings towards you?
Yes, can’t you see how I suffer in this even darkness without you?
You went away because you mistook my silence for indifference. But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.
How could I essay the intensity of my love when silence speaks a more eloquent tone? But perhaps, you didn’t understand…
Remember, I came, because the gnawing loneliness is there and will be lost until the music is sung, until the poem is heard, until the silence is understood…until you come to me again.
For you alone can blend music and memory into one consuming ecstasy. You alone…

You Alone

You Alone
by Rolando A. Carbonell 

You alone, beloved, can teach me to
measure the memory of a song…
No one knows to what ecstasy my
heart will soar.
The gentleness in your smile is enough
to touch the tenderness in my heart.
In the secret page of my life is written
a story…never to be forgotten.
For all the silent records this vessel
holds contain the memory of you.
Come, then, beloved, and sing with the
songs so sweet.
Burn my soul with the magic jewel of
your song that i may awaken from the
darkness of this world to view the
blossoming of the stars.
And is there any power greater than
love? Speak then, beloved, speak.
Give to me the essence of your love,
and the slumbering poems in this dark
universe will blazon anew, swelling like
waves upon the bosom of a hungry shore.
Because you and I shall sing, heaven
itself will quiver with a burst of song.
And the morning shall greet us with a glow
to open the flowering of a new tune.
No one else but you can still the throbbing,
sobbing, murmuring voice within. No one.
For you alone can reach the silent stretches
of my soul.
You alone…
Without you, beloved, what joy will there
be in a song?
Without the embraces of your love – what
use is the beauty of the morn?
Without the promise of your kiss,
what delight is there in the fragrance of
a rose?
Without you, my love, memory itself will
lose the beauty of its touch…
Come then, my dear, like a flower,
like a song, like a dream…
And I shall write the forgotten poems
of many days you secretly left in my soul.
In every line I shall scribble the many
thoughts this soaring mind holds.
And the music in my heart shall spread
its wings to envelop the memory of your youth
scattered by the winds.
You alone can make a miracle out of a song…
You alone can transform this poem into a prayer…
You alone can make me feel the breath of
life again.

Tiding time

                I used to think that tides brought only good memories to one’s life. Every ebb of water signs of memorable moments that last a life time. Yet, I was wrong.

                The start of high tide symbolizes strength and faith. The surging of the water to the shore erases the yesterday’s memories and depicts the beginning of another journey. I was once fascinated with these ideas that I can momentarily if not totally stop thinking of my not-so-much to handle pieces of my life. Every splash of the water to the shore and subtle the sands of yesterday, awakes my melody of bliss and I bare-footedly begin to portray my today’s venture and never find to distract the once sketched portion of the shore with my past ecstasy. I happily greet every morning the wading of the tide for I’m so excited to my today’s verve. Even though they are slight memories, I never regret their arrival and the way it molds my existence. Thus, the outgoing of the tide every sunset doesn’t bother me for I knew I had tomorrow a new beginning.

                Then all of a sudden, I start to feel longing to my wonderful yesterdays, the melancholy that I hardly bear. It tries to tear down a piece of the three-cornered thing in my chest. That moment I started to panic. I’m not used to this sorrow. I try to figure out the reason of this intense sentiment. From the moment I realized the cause of this primary destruction, I feel afraid. It never comes into my mind that euphoric past of my existence rip pieces of my heart. My heart has many tore pieces that need to fill in and all of them are due to my yearning.

                I try to divert my life to the present and never allow any interference of my past. By and by, I survived for couple of weeks. And with that I’m contented. So for every craving my heart felt again, I used the same method I’ve done before with deep concentration.  Yet, I apprehended that I fool myself. Why I have to erase my past if it enables me to define my present and my future? I got to know that including my past with my present situation helps me cope up with my burden. The sorrow starts to fade and transforms me into a new me. Past that defies my today to become robust for my tomorrow. Apparently, longing is not bad enough rather it suffices our true being. We longed to someone that changed us into better, enabled to understand us despite our shortcomings and who knew who we are. These are just sentiments of every receding tide, of every immobility of water after the tide, and of every disappearance of our sketched memories on the sand. Moments are gone yet the yearning they left to us last a life time. Though the departure of every tide torn a piece of our heart, its arrival again brings a piece of hope although it may not fit perfectly and leaves some ragged edges, yet it fills the corner of our heart. For every imperfect fitting in our heart shows how much we love. We don’t bother for perfection for perfection itself doesn’t satiate our thirst for love instead it brings destruction. Thus, it is better to give wholesome love than don’t love at all cause lacking of love shows unscathed sand and afraid of the coming of tide once again. For me, this is the true essence of tide. 

Roni, 

November 6, 2011

3:00 pm

There are many things that an ordinary girl can wish for if only she wanted to. And there are many things that this girl can achieve even without wishing them but just the effect of her actions.

As we travel in the road that nobody dares to do, we encounter lots of conflict --- yourself vs the journey, yourself vs the people around you, yourself vs your family, yourself vs your career and yourself vs thyself. At first, you thought of running away from that journey. This is natural. Everyone fails to notice the silver lining waiting for us. We always thought of the dead end. We never realize that dead end only appears if we think that it's the end of the journey. There is no such thing as dead end. We, ourselves put the end and not the journey itself.

So, why we put endings to our story? Anyone who loves fairy tales would think that every person story has happy ending. This may sound true to an optimistic person who's not fond of exerting effort. For me, happy endings only happen when we push through for it. It will not happen like our lives are controlled by fate. I just believe with the idea that putting an end to the story is the start of the new chapter. We end because we believed that what has been done will never happen again. Ending is always the beginning, we just never know it until we wake up one morning and realize that there is always sun rise. That there is birth of new life. That there is receding of tide. That everyday there is new butterfly visiting our garden. Then, how does end appear? It is because of fear. Fear of new beginning. Fear of losing our past. Fear of facing the future. Fear of failing that journey. Fear of disappointment. And once this fear envelops us, we are blinded to the possible happy ending. We then feel remorse because the repercussions of our actions are meaningless and the influx of desperation swallows our inner being. Then, we lost our journey and our voice. We are overcome by the sudden incursion of challenges that these challenges are meant to make us strong, vulnerable to the upcoming dilemma. We never thought that challenges only appear because we have the power to conquer the world. That we are now on the next higher level of our life.

If only we recognize that we deserve to be happy and the world conspires us to achieve our dream, we can find our life's journey as memorable one. That we are excited to embark again another road to travel by --- the one that is less traveled. Thus, this ordinary girl is ready to take off. :)

Roni, 10/14/12: 9;26am

Dandelion

Last night,
moonlight crept in my window
brought melody of moon's lullaby,
intoxicated me...

I slept crying.

Roni 10/14/12, 1:13am

Late

Sunset kissed the lonely ocean
as cherry blossom perfume
spreads its aroma
to the girl who sings
the sonnet of love.

Roni 10/14/12 1:08am