Friday, December 31, 2010

Mask

behind the happy mask
are my tears, my lonliness
i wish i could remove it,
the mask and sadness inside
but i'm afraid to stop the show

by Kristianne Gayle Brigole

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Heart, We Will Forget Him

Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done pray tell me,
Then I, my thoughts, will dim.
Haste! ‘lest while you’re lagging
I may remember him!

When We Two Parted

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever the years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder, thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sunk, chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me...
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well..
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

To My Dear and Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more then whole Mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

The Reader


I have to leave too, and I'll walk with you.

It was more of she had withdrawn into her own body, and left it to itself and its own quiet rhythms, unbothered by any input from her mind, oblivious from the outside world.

But I had nothing else to occupy or distract me.

But they would lecture me with loving concern, which was worse than being scolded.

I had done things I had not decided to do.

Silencing my bad conscience...

Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily.

Is sadness what comes over us when beautiful memories shatter in hindsight because the remembered happiness fed not just on actual circumstances but on promise that was not kept?

When I see a woman of thirty six, I find her young. But when I see a boy of fifteen, I see a child.

From the outside it is impossible to tell if you are disowning someone or simply exercising discretion, being considerate, avoiding embarrassments and sources of irritation.

Juxtaposition of callousness and extreme sensitivity...

I recognized her but I felt nothing, nothing at all.

I saw myself functioning but inwardly, I felt no involvement.

There are matters one simply cannot get drawn into, that one must distance oneself from if the price is not life and limb.

Is it possible that when you say you knew, the most you can actually do is assume, and that when you say "believe" you are actually just making things up?

She had not allowed herself to be corrupted by self-pity or the self-confidence she had obviously drawn from the fact that she had survived.

Or as if it had been a conflict between two equally compelling duties that required action?

And if I was not guilty because one cannot be guilty of betraying a criminal, then I was guilty of having loved a criminal.

My father was undemonstrative, and could neither share his feelings with us children nor deal with the feelings we had for him.

If one knows what is good for another person who in turn is blind to it, then one must try to open his eyes. One has to leave him the last word, but one must talk to him and not to someone else behind his back.

He sounded as if he was being a little ironic but maybe it was just th tone of voice and the choice of words.

It would be too much to say I was happy about this. But I felt it was right.

Knowing what was going on didn't mean taking part.

There's no need to talk, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.

Self-inflicted pressure to work and succeed.

My longing for Hannah became so strong that it hurt.

Whatever I had done or not done, whatever she had done or not to me--it was the path my life had taken

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Let these be your desires

ove has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.

XVII (I do not love you...)

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I love you

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Long Walk to Forever

They had grown up next door to each other, on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods and orchards, within sight of a lovely bell tower that belonged to a school for the blind.

Now they were twenty, had not seen each other for nearly a year. There had always ben playful, comfortable warmth between them, but never any talk of love.

His name was Newt. Her name was Catharine. In the early afternoon, Newt knocked on Catharine's front door.

Catharine came to the door. She was carrying a fat, glossy magazine she had been reading. The magazine was devoted entirely to brides. "Newt!" she said. She was surprised to see him.

"Could you come for a walk?" he said. He was a shy person, even with Catharine. He covered his shyness by speaking absently as though what really concerned him were far away--as though he were a secret agent pausing briefly on a mission between beautiful, distant, and sinister points.

This manner of speaking had always been Newt's style, even in matters that concerned him desperately.

"A walk?" said Catharine.

"One foot in front of the other," said Newt, "through leaves, over bridges---"

"I had no idea you were in town," she said.

"Just this minute got in," he said.

"Still in the Army, I see," she said.

"Seven months more to go," he said. He was a private first class in the Artillery. His uniform was rumpled. His shoes were dusty. He needed a shave. He held out his hand for the magazine. "Let's see the pretty book," he said.

She gave it to him. "I'm getting married, Newt," she said.

"I know," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"I'm awfully busy, Newt," she said. "The wedding is only a week away."

"If we go for a walk," he said, "it will make you rosy. It will make you a rosy bride." He turned the pages of the magazine. "A rosy bride like her--like her--like her," he said, showing her rosy brides.

Catharine turned rosy, thinking about rosy brides.

"That will be my present to Henry Stewart Chasens," said Newt. "By taking you for a walk, I'll be giving him a rosy bride."

"You know his name?" she said.

"Mother wrote," he said. "From Pittsburgh?"

"Yes," she said. "You'd like him."

"Maybe," he said.

"Can--can you come to the wedding, Newt?" she said.

"That I doubt," he said.

"Your furlough isn't for long enough?" she said.

"Furlough?" said Newt. He was studying a two page ad for flat silver. "I'm not on furlough," he said.

"Oh?" she said.

"I'm what they call A.W.O.L.," said Newt.

"Oh, Newt! You're not!" she said.

"Sure I am," he said, still looking at the magazine.

"Why, Newt?" she said.

"I had to find out what your silver pattern is," he said. He read names of silver patterns from the magazine. Albemarle? Heather?" he said. "Legend? Rambler Rose?" He looked up, smiled. "I plan to give you and your husband a spoon," he said.

"Newt, Newt--tell me really," she said.

"I want to go for a walk," he said.

She wrung her hands in sisterly anguish. "Oh, Newt--you're fooling me about being A.W.O.L.," she said.

Newt imitated a police siren softly, and raised his eyebrows.

"Where--where from?"

"Fort Bragg," he said.

"North Carolina?" she said.

"That's right," he said. "Near Fayetteville--where Scarlet O'Hara went to school."

"How did you get here, Newt?" she said.

He raised his thumb, jerked it in a hitchhike gesture. "Two days," he said.

"Does your mother know?" she said.

"I didn't come to see my mother," he told her.

"Who did you come to see?" she said.

"You," he said.

"Why me?" she said.

"Because I love you," he said. "Now can we take a walk?" he said. "One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges--"

They were taking the walk now, were in a woods with a brown-leaf floor.
Catharine was angry and rattled, close to tears. "Newt," she said, "this is absolutely crazy."

"How so?" said Newt.

"What a crazy time to tell me you love me," she said. "You never talked that way before." She stopped walking.

"Let's keep walking," he said.

"No," she said. "So far, no farther. I shouldn't have come out with you at all," she said.

"You did," he said.

"To get you out of the house," she said. "If somebody walked in and heard you talking to me that way, a week before the wedding--"

"What would they think?" he said.

"They'd think you were crazy," she said.

"Why?" he said

Catharine took a deep breath, made a speech. "Let me say that I'm deeply honored by this crazy thing you've done," she said. "I can't believe you're really A.W.O.L., but maybe you are. I can't believe you really love me, but maybe you do. But--"

"I do," said Newt.

"Well, I'm deeply honored," said Catharine, "and I'm very fond of you as a friend, Newt, extremely fond--but it's just too late." She took a step away from him. "You've never even kissed me," she said, and she protected herself with her hands. "I don't mean you should do it now. I just mean that this is all so unexpected. I haven't got the remotest idea of how to respond."

"Just walk some more," he said. "Have a nice time."

They started walking again.

"How did you expect me to react?" she said.

"How would I know what to expect?" he said. "I've never done anything like this before."

Did you think I would throw myself into your arms?" she said.

"Maybe," he said.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said.

"I'm not disappointed," he said. "I wasn't counting on it. This is very nice, just walking."

Catharine stopped again. "You know what happens next?" she said.

"Nope," he said.

"We shake hands," she said. "We shake hands and part friends," she said. "That's what happens next."

Newt nodded. "All right," he said. "Remember me from time to time. Remember how much I loved you."

Involuntarily, Catharine burst into tears. She turned her back to Newt, looked into the infinate colonnade of the woods.

"What does that mean?" said Newt.

"Rage!" said Catharine. She clenched her hands. "You have no right--"

"I had to find out," he said.

"If I'd loved you," she said, "I would have let you know before now."

"You would?" he said.

"Yes," she said. She faced him, looked up at him, her face quite red. "You would have known," she said.

"How?" he said.

"You would have seen it," she said. "Women aren't very clever at hiding it."

Newt looked closely at Catharine's face now. To her consternation, she realized that what she had said was true, that a woman couldn't hide love.

Newt was seeing love now.And he did what he had to do. He kissed her.

"You're hell to get along with!" she said when Newt let her go.

"I am?" said Newt.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said.

"You didn't like it?" he said.

"What did you expect," she said--"wild, abandoned passion?"

"I keep telling you," he said," I never know what's going to happen next."

"We say good-by," she said.

He frowned slightly. "All right," he said.

She made another speech. "I'm not sorry we kissed," she said. "That was sweet. We should have kissed, we've been so close. I'll always remember you , Newt, and good luck."

"You too," he said.

"Thirty days," he said.

"What?" she said.

"Thirty days in the stockade," he said--"that's what one kiss will cost me."

"I--I'm sorry," she said, "but I didn't ask you to go A.W.O.L."

"I know," he said.

"You certainly don't deserve any hero's reward for doing something as foolish as that," she said.

"Must be nice to be a hero," said Newt. "Is Henry Stewart Chasens a hero?"

"He might be, if he got the chance," said Catharine. She noted uneasily that they had begun to walk again. The farewell had been forgotten.

"You really love him?" he said.

"Certainly I love him!" she said hotly. "I wouldn't marry him if I didn't love him!"

"What's good about him?" said Newt.

"Honestly!" she cried, stopping again. "Do you have any idea how offensive you're being? Many, many, many things are good about Henry! Yes," she said, "and many, many, many things are probably bad, too. But that isn't any of your business. I love Henry, and I don't have to argue his merits with you!"

"Sorry," said Newt.

"Honestly!" said Catharine.

Newt kissed her again. He kissed her again because she wanted him to.

They were now in a large orchard.

"How did we get so far from home, Newt?" said Catharine.

"One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges," said Newt.

"They add up--the steps," she said.

Bells rang in the tower of the school for the blind nearby.

"School for the blind," said Newt.

"School for the blind," said Catharine. She shook her head in drowsy wonder. "I've got to go back now," she said.

"Say good-by," said Newt.

"Every time I do," said Catharine, "I seem to get kissed."

Newt sat down on the close-cropped grass under an apple tree. "Sit down," he said.

"No," she said.

"I won't touch you," he said.

"I don't believe you," she said.

She sat down under another tree, twenty feet away from him. She closed her eyes.

"Dream of Henry Stewart Chasens," he said.

"What?" she said.

"Dream of your wonderful husband-to-be," he said.

"All right, I will," she said. She closed her eyes tighter, caught glimpses of her husband-to-be.

Newt yawned.

The bees were humming in the trees, and Catharine almost fell asleep. When she opened her eyes she saw that Newt really was asleep.He began to snore softly.

Catharine let him sleep for an hour, and while he slept she adored him with all her heart.
The shadows of the apple trees grew to the east. The bells in the tower of the school for the blind rang again.

"*chick-a-dee-dee-dee*," went a chickadee.

Somewhere far away an automobile started nagged and failed, nagged and failed, fell still.
Catharine came out from under her tree, knelt by Newt.

"Newt?" she said.

"H'm?" he said. He opened his eyes.

"Late," she said.

"Hello, Catharine," he said.

"Hello, Newt," she said.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," she said.

"Too late," he said.

"Too late," she said.

He stood, stretched groaningly. "A very nice walk," he said.

"I thought so," she said.

"Part company here?" he said.

"Where will you go?" she said.

"Hitch into town, turn myself in," he said.

"Good luck," she said.

"You too," he said. "Marry me, Catharine?"

"No," she said.

He smiled, stared at her hard for a moment, then walked away quickly.

Catharine watched him grow smaller in the long perspective of shadows and trees, knew that if he stopped and turned now, if he called to her, she would run to him. She would have no choice.
Newt did stop. He did turn. He did call. "Catharine," he called.

She ran to him, put her arms aroud him, could not speak.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

His Prose # 1

What makes my perfect guy are his imperfections. First, it makes him real than a dream. Second, that’s him. Third, I love him. Lastly, he loves me. He’s neither yours nor anybody’s for he’s my first and one and only. He's officially perfect for me. :)

His Poem # 1

I bet that's not a decision you alone can make
So since your safety is at stake
Promise me not a bone of your body will break
Because that's something I cannot take.

His Poem # 2

I love you
like there's no tomorrow.

I love you
till yesterday's are gone.

I love you
for as long as today will stay.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

The Devil and Miss Prym

There is still something very important missing--a companion with whom to share all this beauty.

Profoundest changes take place within a very reduced time frame.

Challenge will not wait.

You shouldn't believe in promises. The world is full of them.

About the lies he had been obliged to believe because he could not accept reality.

Men take the oddest satisfaction in feeling superior without knowing that most of the time they are being utterly predictable.

She was all too familiar with the silence of this remote place which signified not peace and tranquility but a total absence of new things to say.

It was a wretched place in which everything was predictable, organized and reliable.

Everyday was another day spent waiting. Every night was a night when she might meet someone who would recognize her true worth.

She realized that there were 2 things that prevent us from achieving our dreams: believing them to be impossible or seeing those dreams made possible by some sudden turn of the wheel of fortune when you least expected it. For at that moment, all our fears suddenly surface: fear of life full of new challenges, the fear of losing everything that is familiar.

People want to change everything and at the same time want it all to remain the same.

Good and evil have the same face. It all depends when they cross the path of each individual human being.

Rich men never waste a penny, only poor people do that.

They only think they have everything under their control, when in fact, they control nothing.

Dangerous men and women never make threats.

There are two kinds of idiots--those who don't take action because they have received a threat, and those who think they are taking action because they have issued a threat.

The best way to weaken ones enemy was to get them to believe that you were on his side.

Of all the days in our life, which is the one that never comes? Tomorrow.

I can almost touch your fear.

Even God has a hell: his love for mankind.

I was always a man of action.

Cowards--they never lose or win.

The answer is simple: chance.

It isn't the desire to abide by the law that makes everyone behave as society requires but they fear of punishment. Each one of us carries gallows inside.

Your not trying to find the answer to a question, your simply trying to confirm something you desperately want to believe: that everyone is evil.

Life is a reign of terror in the shadow of the guillotine.

Mankind is only virtuous because terror exists.

They were losing nothing by waiting.

An authority derived from terror leaving fear and suffering for later.

Man needs what is worst in him in order to achieve what is best in him.

Forgive God.

We have committed the sin of pride in believing ourselves to be better than we are and that is why we are suffering.

Death often frees us from a lot of senseless suffering.

Silence doesn't always mean consent--usually all it meant was that people were incapable of coming up with an immediate response.

They seek suffering in the most joyous of places because they think they are unworthy of happiness.

It was all a matter of control or choice.

Life can seem either very long or very short, according to how you lived it.

To follow our dreams and master the fear that prevents us from living.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Twilight

I ate breakfast without tasting the food.

It's too easy to be myself with you.

I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should.

So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.

To be perfectly honest, she'll be unavailable every night, as for as anyone besides myself is concerned.--Edward to Mike

He means well.

When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape.

I didn't struggle to forget.

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget.

My temper was hardwired to my tear ducts.

"It's twilight, " Edward muttered..."The easiest to me. But also the saddest, in a way...the end of another day, the return of the night."

I was at a loss to know how.

My mind had too much free time.

You are exactly my brand of heroine.

My personal hell to ruin me.

Thank you, but no thanks.

Breaking Dawn

Each pain had a simple answer, a clear action to end that pain.

She's everything you want and everything you can't have.

Because you always want the very most what you can never have.

Pain so bad you'd take death a smile just to get away from it.

Reality was knowing there was something so much important than all this torture and not being able to remember what it was.

One infinite moment of pain.

Childhood is not birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. --St. Edna Vincent Millay

Bachelor parties are designed for those who are sad to see the passing of their single days. I couldn't be more eager to have mine behind me.

I'm sure about you. The rest I could live through.

Waste not, want not.You are officially perfect.

Always have, always will.

And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays. --William Shakespeare

Monday, May 3, 2010

Fly on the Wall Vol 1-2

To pull ones punches is to do a disservice to oneself, as well as to ones opponent. It defies the value for excellence and the rule of fair play. To pull ones punch is to say that the other is unworthy of your best shot. It means you forfeit taking your best shot.

It has always fascinated me why others can't rein in their impulse to aggress against others for the most inane reasons--like, maybe they don't like your hair, the way you walk, or the fact that others like you. They don't realize that their feeling is their problem. Or if they do realize that, they don't want to be responsible for their problem, so they set out to make it yours.

Girls handicap themselves more often than boys. We are set early on the road of regulating the display of our ability and denying the best we can be in order to make relationships work.

She'll find that there will be roads that she will need to travel alone where others are ill-equipped to follow.

She is of generation that needed their parents in youth and graduated to adulthood compelled to need their children.

Regarding smoking--it takes courage to pick one's own poison rather than letting the world dis it out on you.

How could one person be more than another.

We are at our greatest human potential in childhood until the real world touches us.

So caught up we become in making the days speed past that sometimes we are jolted by the question of where the time has gone. And then we realize that we don't have the excuse of youth anymore to make crazy choices and take zany chances of life.

Until you allow time to touch you, you haven't lived.

But first, get to know the enemy. It might very well be yourself.

Morality plays that take center stage in our time are mostly about evil versus evil and that life, more often than not, is about learning to choose the lesser.

To blunt the blow when it comes

Life is a place we've never been.

The ignorant ones is not to be found only in the classrooms.

There's nothing like anonymity to bring out the wild side in many.

Sh*t happens.

Victory won through acts of aggression are empty.

That's what upstarts are for. They think they can achieve where others have failed.

One learns loud and clear that which he wants to hear but is likely to close those ears when the words run counter to his position.

We take offense when people say the truth because we'd rather take the lies.

They don't learn because they see learning as an external event that happens only on their seatmates' paper.

Logically, we could expect that given the amount of available knowledge out there and the relative ease with which the younger could access it, we should have in our midst a generation of walking encyclopedias.

Weapons were invented to compensate for male inarticulateness.

When did love mean having to be who we are not?

Only to discover that what we left behind is that which what we seek to find.

Fate of our own making is not a matter of opinion, argument or wishful thinking.

I was fascinated how a mind so sharp in most way could fail to grasp the obvious.

They took up the space in my heart that I didn't know could hold so much.


We are more likely to be abused by someone you know than by a stranger.

The abused becomes the abuser.

We remember very well the promise that was you.

What we love is what would most likely kill you.

People practicing the heresy called love.

Like knows like.

Within each of us resides a sort of alternate selves.

Actions speak and words just get in the way.

When something goes wrong with someone else, I really truly hope it isn't something that my silence on a previous occasion provided the precedence for someone else to get hurt in the same way and--God forbid--for the hurtful practice to be institutionalized where it would do no harm anymore.

To loosen its stranglehold / so much is possible

Kettle calling the pot dirty brown

People who react in anger generally react out of character.

Rape is not so much about the innocence of he accused until proven guilty, it is also about the integrity of the victim until proven a liar.

Have enough to make do when there'll be a need to.

The point of everyday is for us to prove ourselves worthy of breath.

Far be it for me

The measure of a people's character emerges when thing suddenly don't work as they should.

Never mind if the teacher disagreed with what grade my answer was good for.

We become what we do.

Intentions sometimes do not translate to action.

Never underestimate the power of the situation to affect behavior.

Who says we need bullets when looks could kill?

Overcome emotion with reason

You cannot make everything right to everyone.

We...must understand death. It often is ll that the world would let us have.

Justice is just a word that she has heard.

How much truth is sacrificed for convenience, pride and propaganda.

Apology will only be an issue with one of guilty conscience.

Same old, same old.

He who fights and runs away fights to run another day.

Better the devil that you don't know that the devil you do.

Time enough for things to get a little bit more complicated, as happens when one is just a text message away.

Those books look like they needs brains to work out.

Stop whining and kick ass.

Touch is a power thing.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Love in The Time of Cholera

Let time pass and we will see what it brings.

Life was imposed on her from outside.

She had the obsessions of a slave.

Students were no more than borrowed friends whose affection ended with each class.

The lost of virginity is a bloody sacrifice.

Life--It is not so much.

An ineluctable event that he was resolved to wait for without patience or violence.

Life obliges people over and over again to give birth to themselves.

I'm not rich but a poor man with money.

He escaped in the torments of memory which kept him in the state of grace.

...a knowledge of it superior to anyone's...

...that bore too close a resemblance of love.

Neither could have said if their mutual dependence was based on love or convenience, but they had never asked the question with their hands on their hearts because both had always preferred not to know the answer.

Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good.

...her anger being found out in a mistake maddened her.

Resentments stirred up other resentments, reopened old scars turned them into fresh wounds and both were dismayed at the desolating proof...that they had done little more than nurture their rancor.

He had turned to the childhood his children had taken away from him.

The only worst thing than bad health is a bad name.

One could be happy not only without love, but despite it.

No one with more sense than a poet.

The only regret I would have in dying is if it is not for love.

Nobody teaches life anything.

It is possible to be a woman's friend and not go to bed with her.

Ethical management of forgetfulness

...that maybe the reason he does so many so that he will not have to think.

Love, if it existed, is something separate: another life.

One does not love one's children because they are ones children but because of the friendship formed while raising them.

The problem in married life is learning to overcome boredom.

Unfaithful but not disloyal

One can be in love with several people at the same time and feel the same sorrow with each and not betray any of them.

Feeling his presence where he no longer was.

The desire to forget is the strongest inducement for remembering.

The most important thing of a good marriage is not happiness but stability.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Confessions of a Young Teacher

A morning in the second week of June 2007, I went in my first class chin up, shoulders straight, breast out as I walked up to the platform and greeted each of my students with a set of bad-tempered eyebrows, a smoldering look and disappointed lips. I moved my spectacles a bit to manage my nervousness and saw clearly how each stared back and looked at me from hairpin to sandals all of them swearing to hate me from that second on to the last day of the school year. It’s a success! No one in class knew I had a 20/20 vision, I was hired a week ago and I was a century younger than they thought.

The moment I thought I managed, I started to juggle for words stammering, stopping in the middle of my discussion and hanging like Pentium 1 for the innumerable things I wanted to express with no words to contain them. I fastened my grammar on my script and made sure all the words I needed were prepared for my disposal, still, words betrayed me. I sweated on adjusting my eyeglasses and dressing up like my great, great grandmother just to let them all know that I am mature enough for this profession. Along the corridor, I swallowed every eyes of disapproval from my colleagues who always knew they were better than me. What’s even worse is I am a probationary teacher who just graduated Magna Cum Laude from a prestigious school and I gave them all the right to expect this much from me as they did to the principal.

With all these emotional baggage, I grew more tired each day dragging myself to class fighting every chance of failure and failing every time I try. My self esteem was almost always totally wrecked at the end of the day that even my four years of college didn’t seem enough to lift me, it let me down. It all became unbearable one day when I was substituting a sick teacher that suddenly my senses blacked out and I wish I hadn’t been conscious enough to hear my students shouting, “Miss collapsed! Stretcher! Stretcher!” A couple of hands clutched me and rushed me to the clinic. The nurse checked my blood pressure. “70/40,” I heard. I can’t believe that even in the readings in the sphygmomanometer, I failed.

While I was supposed to be resting, I brainstormed on so many things that happened when I re-entered the academe. It’s very difficult to swing in between being young and being a teacher. The time when I am supposed to be allowed to commit mistakes and have fun, people expect me to be perfect and boring. I cannot even be in clubs, parties and hang-outs without being watchful for there are too many eyes checking on me if I am still morally upright for my profession. How can they expect me to be more when I admittedly have less of which can only be learned through experience? And so I chose to close my eyes and rest my case.

Over the next few days, I stopped trying to be a teacher. I removed my eyeglasses; I dressed up along with the latest fashion still not forgetting the sleeves, the collar, the long skirt and the required earrings. I stopped observing my co-teachers along the corridor; I got rid of my script; I studied harder than when I was a student and I forgot about my coordinator. The change was liberating.

Although some of my colleagues are still having qualms if I could still make it a month more, a lot of my students were happy that I broke my eyeglasses and I used my “contacts”. They were grateful that I know how to smile and laugh on their linguistic somersaults despite the pact we had on subject-verb and pronoun-antecedent. They forgave me when I stammer as they helped me out and during my “happiniss, igg, pish days”, they dwelled not on my words but understood why I sometimes commit mistakes. And as they stopped dwelling on what’s wrong with me, they started learning what’s right.

My teaching moments come in times when they forget I am their teacher. These are the times when I never miss on letting them realize, how stubborn I can be. Whenever they talk I simply call their attention and ask them an ultra-difficult question. After a minute, everyone is quiet as they listen to my winning question, “How can you talk to him/her, and not talk to me now? You know I am a very jealous teacher and I’ve always wanted your attention but if you want me to share it with you, here’s the best time. You talk and we listen simply because we respect you.” The class would giggle but they knew I was dead serious.

My students had their share of teaching moments too and often do these come to me when I am least prepared. “Check the verb in the sentence, I love you,” a boy cut me with an, “I love you too, Miss. So, are we official?” Everyone was silent waiting for my response. Smiling, I said, “Yes, we’re official…officially divorced!” We all laughed and continued the lesson using the two useful verbs—love and divorced. Although these instances always appeared to be distractions, they served well as icebreakers in class. After all, I don’t have to be too hard, too mature and too all-knowing to gain their respect. I just have to be myself.

After three months, my students led on spreading the rumors about me and they as well exerted effort to stand true to what they had exposed in campus. I felt reassured but afraid of the result because I’m not sure if my efforts were enough though I know I am into it for the right reasons. As the principal handed me my summative evaluation, my efforts said: You’re still an English teacher and no longer on probation.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Sonnet 8

I live, I die,. I burn myself and drown.
I am extremely hot in suffering cold:
my life is soft and hardness uncontrolled.
When I am happy, then I ache and frown.
Suddenly I am laughing while I cry
and in my pleasure I endure deep grief:
my joy remains and slips out like a thief.
Suddenly I am blooming and turn dry.
So Love inconstantly leads me in vain
and when I think my sorrow has no end
unthinkingly I find I have no pain.
But when it seems that joy is in my reign
and an ecstatic hour is mine to spend,
He comes and I, in ancient grief, descend.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

To...

I recollect that wondrous meeting,
That instant I encountered you,
When like an apparition fleeting,
Like beauty's spirit, past you flew.

Long since, when hopeless grief distressed me,
When noise and turmoil vexed, it seemed
Your voice still tenderly caressed me,
Your dear face sought me as I dreamed.

Years passed; their stormy gusts confounded
And swept away old dreams apace.
I had forgotten how you sounded,
Forgot the heaven of your face.

In exiled gloom and isolation
My quiet days meandered on,
The thrill of awe and inspiration,
And life, and tears, and love, were gone.

My soul awoke from inanition,
And I encountered you anew,
And like a fleeting apparition,
Like beauty's spirit, past you flew.

My pulses bound in exaltation,
And in my heart once more unfold
The sense of aw and inspiration,
The life, the tears, the love of old.

Simile

What did we say to each other
that now we are as the deer
who walk in single file
with heads high
with ears forward
with eyes watchful
with hooves always placed on firm ground
in whose limbs there is latent flight.

Friday, March 12, 2010

The Bluest Eye

It was a productive pain.

If happiness is anticipation with certainty, we were happy.

The desirability that escaped me.

What experience would you like on Christmas? over What gift would you like on Christmas?

Pain was not only endurable, it was sweet.

It would involve, I supposed, "my man," who before leaving, would love me.

"How do you do that? I mean, how would you get someone to love you?"

Dealing with it each according to his way.

The muted sound of flesh on unsurprised flesh.

To have something as wonderful as that to happen would take a long, long time.

She would see only what there was to see: the eyes of other people.

Don't worry about my bandy legs. That's the 1st thing they push aside.

She was cut out for better things and could make the right man happy.

Eyes that questioned nothing and asked everything.

He was a simple Presence, an all embracing tenderness with strength and promise of rest.

Having a baby is more than a bowel movement.

Her process of becoming were like most of ours: she developed a hatred for things that mystified or obstructed her, acquired virtues that were easy to maintain, assigned herself a role in the scheme of things and harked back to simpler times for gratification.

Pulling every nerve and muscle into service

Celibacy was a haven, silence is a shield.

She never left me because she was never ever there.

And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive; we were not free, merely licensed; we were not compassionate, we were polite; not good but well behaved.

Love is never any better than the lover.

Beauty was not simply something to behold, it was something one could do.

Quiet as it's kept.

So it was.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Shanghai Baby

Future is a trap set right in the middle of your brain.

It's hard to deny life's little ironies.

You have no immunity against life.

Love was a miracle the flesh could not copy.

Being bored is when you haven't anything to do, so what would you be doing?

Intelligence is a gift and madness is an instinct.

A genius can get into a worse mess than an idiot.

The deeper the love, the sharper the flesh aches.

Romantic dreams leave no trace.

Erring in ones choice of boyfriend is a woman's great humiliation.

One draws near in order to separate in the end.

How blessed a woman like me should feel: young, good looking, smart and a professional.

Shadows float about recording thousands of shapes and hopeless situations.

When bad things happen to you, everything goes haywire.

You need not worry. When you wake up, tomorrow is the day after the one before.

He was the fire of my life and the impetus behind my work, he was inexpressible sweetness and pain perfectly beautiful rose resurrected by alchemy in a Persian garden.

When the film is over the film goers leave en masse.

Loving you and being faithful to you are two different things.

Fear of loneliness is what teaches us to love.

All men are strange as hell--Robin Morgan.

Girls who are street smart are put down and those who are gentler are treated like empty headed flower vessels.

Being a bit smart doesn't hurt.

A learned man should also understand romance.

Love enters by way of the ear and only then can reach the heart.

What will be, will be.

Real life is never the way we want it to be.

Everything originates in nothingness and nothingness accentuates everything.

My nerves taut as bowstring.

Love will tear us apart.--Ian Curtis

Heaven is no more than this: being at ease and completely free of worry.

There are no men to notice your hairstyle and clothes, no one to focus about whether you're full breasted or your own eyes are sufficiently elegant.

If there's a reason to live, loving you is it.

We'd lost the chance of a chance.

It's a way of giving yourself something to cling to a reason to be happy.

I am alive but dead too.

Freedom of choice is a freedom based on certain conditions.

A man with the eyes of a child, intelligent of a genius and the love of a lunatic...

I wanted to find someone to blame for everything so I'd have an object to hate and to rage against.

When your lover leaves, you can cry out all the tears in your body but he wont come back. He's gone forever, taking with him your broken memories, reduced to ashes and leaving behind a soul, alone.

Monday, February 8, 2010

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The profound moral perversity of a world that rests essentially on non-existence of return.

We live everything as it comes without warning.

What happens but once might as well not happen at all.

The only relationship that can make both partners happy is in which sentimentality has no place and neither partner makes any claim on the life and freedom of the other.

Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation but in the desire for shared sleep.

Those years were more attractive in retrospect.

He was enjoying the sweet lightness of being.

Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination.

Only necessity is heavy and only what is heavy has value.

Life cannot be an experiment thus there's no room for hypothesis.

Co-incidence means that two events unexpectedly happen at the same time, they meet.

Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.

It could just as well be other ways.

Only chance can speak to us.

Necessity knows no magic formula--they are all left to chance.

If love is to be unforgettable, fortuities will come down to it.

Vertigo is the voice of emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.

She made no response. She could not tell him that she had been waiting.

What we have not chosen we cannot consider either our merit or our failure.

Respect the woman in her.

Noise has one advantage. It drowns our words.

Beauty by mistake

Love means renouncing ones strength.

What must be, must be.

The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us.

Flirting is a promise of sexual intercourse without a guarantee.

Loves are like empires: when the idea are founded on crumbles, they, too, fade away.

Blissful indifference / beautiful lie

Obsession of the unimaginable

Poetic memory records everything that charms and touches us.

Pleasure without happiness is not pleasure.

Love is the longing for the half of ourselves we have lost.

When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.

We can never establish certainty what part of our relations with others is the result of our emotions--love, antipathy, charity or malice--and what part is pre-determined by the constant powerplay among individuals.

Idyll's monotony bred happiness, not boredom.

Her weakness was aggressive.

The sadness meant: we are at the last station. The happiness meant: we are together.

The House on the Mango Street

She doesn't want to write a book that a reader wont understand and would feel ashamed for not understanding.

Making each sentence serve her and not the other way around.

When she lived at home, the things she looked at scolded her and made her feel sad and depressed. They said, "Wash me." They said, "Wash me." They said, "Lazy." They said, "You ought."

You can never have too much of sky.

A home in a heart, a house made of heart.

"...who left and keeps leaving."

I am the one nobody comes for.

I have began my own quiet war. Simple. Sure. I am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

How to Survive...

You’re still in that life
--but not really.
And your out of that life
--but not quite.

Come to stay
or
Stay away


To give you up
God!
What a bell of freedom
That rings within me
No more waiting for
Letters
Phone calls
Post cards
That never come.


I am afraid that I will run out of poems
Before I run out of pain.


I rained, rain.


The sun will rise
In a few minutes

It’s been doing it
--regularly--
for as long as I
can remember.

Maybe I should
pin my hopes
on important,
but often
unnoticed,
certainties
like that,

not on such relatively
trivial matters as
whether you will never
love me or not.


Hurt for a while.


I hope I heal soon.
I want to enjoy
Autumn.


You are beautiful just because you are.


You require time to heal. Give yourself the luxury. You deserve it.


I shall miss loving you.

I shall miss the
Comfort
Of your embrace.

I shall miss the
Loneliness
Of waiting for your calls
That never came.

I shall miss the Joy
Of our comings,
and Pain
of your goings.

And,
After a time
I shall miss

Missing
Loving
You.


With each new person I meet
I wonder, is this the day
Fate has chosen, or is fate
What I have chosen to get me
Through the day.

The memory of loving
The most
Destructive.


While your internal world is chaotic,
Keep to a schedule in the outer.
This will give a sense of order
--also something to hold on to.


Falling asleep
Exhausted tomorrow
Early evening
Too tired
Even for
Nightmares.


I am missing you
Far better than
I ever loved you


Sundays are the worst.

Holidays are the second worst.

Saturday nights aren’t much fun either.

It’s hard to look back upon any gain in life that does not have a loss attached to it.

Limbo : Is it on? Is it off? Is it a gain? Is it a loss?

Not knowing may be the worst torture of all.

When in limbo, and your better instincts tell you there’s little hope, it’s better to end the situation than to let it drag on and on.

Be with that pain. NOW. Set time aside for mourning.

To give up this final hope may be the most difficult of all.

Your anger will go away as your hurt heals.

from Lesley

"I still believe in paradise, but now at least I know it is not some place that you can look for because it is not where you go... It's how you feel for a moment in your life when you are a part of something. And if you find that moment, it lasts forever."

On Monsieur's Departure

I grieve and not dare show my discontent,
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate,
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate.
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned,
Since from myself another self I turned.

My care is like my shadow in the sun
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it,
Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.
His too familiar care doth make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it be suppressed.

Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind.
Let me float or sink, be high or low.
Or let me live with some more sweet content,
Or die and so forget what love ere meant.