A Poem at Dawn

Sometimes, the Muses come visiting at unexpected moments, just like in the early hours this morning. Thus this reflection-poem of mine came to be.

I

 Waking up at dawn

 I see darkness around

 Only flickering lights

 Beaming from buildings afar

 Cast a shimmering glow

 to everything below

 For a second I wonder –

Who’d need the stars?

 Nothing ever though

 can Overshadow

 the Wondrous shine from

 Those heavenly bodies…

 Yet

 in that hour,

Blackness covers the sky.

 II

Sleep still tugging at me

 I recline on the seat

 By the window

 and turn my gaze

 at the sleeping city

beneath my feet…

Everything is still

 Everything quiet

 Save for the rumblings

 in my mind

 which I quell

by my Prayers

III

Gazing by the window

I wonder

Could there be any other soul

Brooding as I do

Over the vast view

of our side of the metropolis…

Or perhaps someone

from his own window

Watching me

Watching the world outside?

Finding Beauty in the Mundane

I enjoy looking at beautiful landscapes. They make for great photographs, especially sweeping panoramas – of mountains, fields, the sea.

Yet, as I spend more time developing my photography skills, I discover so much beauty in the mundane as well.

Silver, one among the greens in my tiny garden
Playing with angles and light and texture
While others may pull weeds from their plot, I simply let them be, including the blur.

Textured layer

“I have always been caught by the pull of the unremarkable, by the easily missed, infinitely nourishing beauty of the mundane.”
Tana French, Broken Harbour

 

 

The Pavement: 3 Perfect Shots

Afternoon Scene #8 - I took this photo of a pavement inside a mall...

Same pavement, another shot…

Afternoon Scene #9
Afternoon Scene #10 - Interesting play of light and shadow on the pavement.

Overall, I wanted to capture a sense of motion when I took these shots one after the other. One pavement, three perfect shots, I hope.

Writing 201: Water Haikus

Haiku 1: Moving On

been a while since

I posted on my site

the Well runs dry…

Day is calm

The blue waters beckon

Pen in hand

Image Source

 Haiku 2: Freshness

Early morning dew

Saddled on life’s newborn leaf

Eaglet in the sky

    Image Source

      Haiku 3: Reborn

Heaven’s blessing

the Waters of Baptism

Soul’s new life

Image Source

 Today’s poetry challenge on The Daily Post’s Writing 201 involves writing about Water (prompt), and/or a haiku (form), and/or use a simile (device).

Love’s Fading Season

the Heart sees no reason

yet understands and answers

Life’s greatest puzzles;

Kindred spirits speak

a language that

goes beyond time and space…

Love's Fading Season...

We could have been

kindred spirits;

there was a time when

we were…

but you, just like the seasons,

have drifted away

into Winter…

Special Note about my photo: I was inspired to use this ‘photo failure’ of mine, a result of an out-of-focus shot…but seeing it still looked good , especially as a background, I decided to keep it in my files…and that was what I used for this post. I credit Photography 101 for all the creative tips I’ve learned from the team! Thanks and Cheers!

Through the Looking Glass…

It took me so long to come up with a response to this photography assignment: “incorporating glass into an image to add a layer of complexity.” Thus it was a blessing I and my family got to dine in a restaurant with this fascinating view of the outside…

Through a glass panel - The sharp lines and striking view of the buildings beyond, plus the soft twirls of the clouds in the sky, were made clearer by using more contrast and color saturation.
Through a glass panel 2 - same view but at a slightly different angle...
Through a glass panel 3 - I included more of the street below...
Through a glass panel 4 - stronger colors...

I never thought taking pictures through a looking glass can be interesting; now I’m hooked, thanks to The Daily Post’s Photography 101 course. Cheers!

Photography 101: Clouds and Convergence

The Home That Nurtured My Dreams

“It didn’t matter how big our house was; it mattered that there was love in it.”
Peter Buffett, Life Is What You Make It: Find Your Own Path to Fulfillment

My precious dear granddaughters, I write this to you so that when you grow much older you will have something to look back to, from your dear NaiNai…I remember when I was growing up as a child like you, I was as precocious as you both are today, and though I was really shy inside, mostly I was happy growing up in this house…home to me for almost 20 years.

The apartment where I grew up with my parents and eight younger siblings was a corner unit in the 1st building complex inside a huge family compound belonging to a clan from up north of Manila.

And this little space which my family occupied was home to me from the time we moved there shortly before I entered kindergarten until I got married. It was my home for 19 years, the home that also nurtured my youthful dreams.

It was one of those American style 2-storey apartment complexes designed in the popular retro architecture of the ’60s, and located in a quiet middle-class neighborhood. Most families here sent their children to the nearby Catholic schools or the pilot public schools.

Our front door opened to the main driveway, the right side of which, if you were entering the big iron-wrought gates, was lined with a variety of green plants and flowers, from the gate to the end of the long pathway. A tall fruit-laden star-apple tree also stood by the entrance, like a solemn guard.

From the kitchen, our back door led us to the small yard that laid between our building and the 2nd main complex where most of the family members of the clan lived in their own smaller units. At the tip of that small yard was my father’s garage. Hence, when he drove home each evening from office, he would have to turn left from the main driveway.

The yard and the driveway fronting our unit served as our points of connection with the other children in that compound.

Most interesting were all the box-like windows in the house, the type of which we could climb up inside, close the shutters, and viola, we’d be in our own little world, out there in the open yet safely enclosed within the house.

These windows. They were often the stage for my and my siblings’ imaginative wandering minds. 

Much like the houses of old, an enclosed staircase led from the 1st landing up to the 2nd floor, and this staircase was another favorite nook of mine, where I’d often write in my diary or create poems, or read books – books filled our home including the bathroom. But many times, dreamy me would just sit there on one of the steps, leaning against one side, my feet up on the wall, musing my hours away…

That staircase. My comfort zone where I was free to be alone with my thoughts.

“I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.”
Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

Our family unit’s focal point was the medium-sized living room where we had our family altar, the Sacred Heart of Jesus on the wall, hung over the corner table lined with statues of Mama Mary and St. Joseph, and other saints like St. Jude and St. Therese of the Child Jesus. Yet in each room upstairs, smaller altars were enshrined as well.

Each evening, my parents would gather us all in that cozy space, in the living room, after my father had arrived home from office, to say our family prayers that would start with the recitation of the holy rosary, before we partook of our supper — one that often lasted an hour. Our family prayers were personal to us for they were composed by my parents.

Our family ritual. It was, until now even in our own homes, a ritual that has nourished our souls, our faith in God, and one that has marked us as a family.

Family meal times were also a time for sharing stories about our day, or quiz time as when my parents would check on our lessons, or just simply telling jokes. With a large brood such as ours, it was usually a time of mirth, playful bantering or at times – marked with petty quarrels that my parents would soon squash enough with just a simple stern look or a “ssshhhhh” from either of them.

The house where I grew up. The home that nurtured my dreams. It has helped transform me into the person I am today. Thus, so thankful am I there were those elements that cultivated my inter-, intra- and meta-personal relationships: with others (family & childhood friends), myself, and with God: the yard. the driveway. the windows. the family dining table; the staircase; and most of all, our family altar.

That house. My family’s sacred space. A special memory for me.

“When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing.” – sung by Diana Ross