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Imagery in a Single Sentence
While poems and songs can paint a vivid picture since they are longer mediums,
imagery can be...
Imagery Is Description
Have you ever been in a situation where an instructor mentioned the catch phrase, “Be
as descriptiv...
Another famous poem that contains imagery is "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth. As
you read through the poem, he paints a ...

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  1. 1. Imagery in a Single Sentence While poems and songs can paint a vivid picture since they are longer mediums, imagery can be found in just a single sentence as well. Consider the following imagery examples:  He fumed and charged like an angry bull.  He fell down like an old tree falling down in a storm.  He felt like the flowers were waving him a hello.  The eerie silence was shattered by her scream.  He could hear his world crashing down when he heard the news about her.  The F-16 swooped down like an eagle after its prey.  The word spread like leaves in a storm.  The lake was left shivering by the touch of morning wind.  Her face blossomed when she caught a glance of him.  He could never escape from the iron grip of desire.  He could hear the footsteps of doom nearing.  She was like a breath of fresh air infusing life back into him.  The pot was a red as a tongue after eating a cherry flavored ring pop.  Though I was on the sheer face of a mountain, the feeling of swinging through the air was euphoric, almost like flying without wings.  Her blue eyes were as bright as the Sun, blue as the sky, but soft as silk.  The music coursed through us, shaking our bodies as if it came from within us.  The giant tree was ablaze with the orange, red, and yellow leaves that were beginning to make their descent to the ground. Here is another example of imagery in music. She wears a long fur coat of mink Even in the summertime Everybody knows from the coy little wink The girl's got a lot on her mind She's got big thoughts, big dreams And a big brown Mercedes sedan What I think this girl, she really wants Is to be in love with a man -Sheila E., “Glamorous Life” In this illustration, the imagery gains momentum with each line. It starts out slow, yet always building momentum through its vivid description of the mystery girl in the “long fur coat of mink.”
  2. 2. Imagery Is Description Have you ever been in a situation where an instructor mentioned the catch phrase, “Be as descriptive as possible?” In short, imagery can best be defined as descriptive language. If you take that definition one step further and apply it to the five human sense, then the definition simply becomes, descriptive language that has the ability of appealing to the five human senses. That does not necessarily mean that imagery applies to all five human senses collectively. It merely means that imagery is the use of descriptive language that can be appealing to one or more of the five human senses. Although most often used in poetry, imagery can be used in just about any form of writing. Whether fiction or nonfiction, imagery is what provides the color, or what a reader can see in his or her mind’s eye about a particular written work. Contemporary examples of imagery in action include stories in the newspaper, crime scene reports and of course, works of fiction. Imagery is also used in songs, movies, television shows and everyday reports. It is the way in which the writer or author of a particular work conveys texture and vividness to the reader. It is also the way in which the writer shows the reader the intended image of the work, instead of telling them. If you ever find yourself wondering where you can find good imagery examples, you can turn on your radio, mp3 player, or even pull out a book, and you will find many examples.  Read more at http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of- imagery.html#t0rl0oVSCYLs5JVF.99 Take a look at the following example and see if you can better understand its use of imagery: On a starry winter night in Portugal Where the ocean kissed the southern shore There a dream I never thought would come to pass Came and went like time spent through an hourglass -Teena Marie, “Portuguese Love” The sample above was taken from soul, songstress of the 1980s, Teena Marie’s hit love song entitled “Portuguese Love.” Did you notice how descriptive the lyrics are? In this sample alone, the imagery is increasingly apparent to the reader. Even though this is a portion of the lyrics from a song, if you read it, you can almost feel the sand of the beach beneath your feet.
  3. 3. Another famous poem that contains imagery is "Daffodils" by William Wordsworth. As you read through the poem, he paints a wonderful picture of daffodils such that you can almost picture them in the breeze: A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way Read more at http://examples.yourdictionary.com/examples-of- imagery.html#t0rl0oVSCYLs5JVF.99
  4. 4. THE TREE By G. Burce Bunao The tree was very beautiful to me When I was a boy I climbed for fruit or out of a branch of the tree Made me a toy-- A top, for instance, that spun around, carefree And wound for joy Until it toppled over and was dead. No longer the boy, I find the tree as beautiful as though not Just for branch Or a bunch of fruit but-more than that-for a bed Or to fence the ranch In which I raise the beasts that fill the pot In the many shapes My simple commerce turn them to like bread Or fish or grapes To feed the brood the little woman me. There go the boys. Go watch them, strong limb; spread up the tree, They pluck their toys Out of its branches, as out of my childhood tree
  5. 5. I shaped my joys. “Every little thing that happens in our childhood is somewhat memorable. It makes us smile every time we reminisce to those memories. This poem is also pertaining to the joys of the children while playing in the tree. Those moments still remains every time a child see the tree that becomes a part of their lives.” CREDENDA By R. Vinzons Asis I remembered God and I came asking bread, became tearfully insistent, heard only ringing hunger: no word So I left, cursing but the thunder of my words were as raindrops falling. Saw God in my hunger: heard his voice ringing in my ears; saw the beauty of his silence.
  6. 6. “Wishes are always asked by people. Like in this poem wishes are not been given right away. We need to wait for those wishes, because there is always a right time for all. It doesn’t really mean that if our wish is not given right away, we are taking for granted. God knows the right time that is good for us. Wedon’t need to rush everything. Remember that there is something better when we are waiting patiently.” PHILOSOPHER’S LOVE SONG By Tita Lacambra-Ayala If truth is real it will become true If truth is unreal it will not become as you are truth as you are real you will become true if not to me at least to your self
  7. 7. at least to the part that’s real to me when I touch you “The author’s feeling seems to be hurt. Maybe his fiancé is being dishonest. The poem is very true, that in a relationship it is right that we need to be true, not only for the person that we love but especially for our own self. Being true and honest is the foundation of all relationship.” MGA BUKAD HA MAYO kan Eduardo Makabenta Magpapakaruruyag ngan pinili, burak ngan tsampaka, marol nga hamili, rosas, asusenas. Rosal nga mahambot ngan nagangalimwag sa hangin talambot, an ira alimyon abot ha hirayo… Magpakawiwili nga bukad ha Mayo. Bukad nga kadam’an luob an at’ tuna, magpakabibihag ha panhunahuna, may walingwaling ngan may mga manan-aw nga makalipay ha mata pagtan-aw may sangyaw, may diri, may masarayo,
  8. 8. magdamit Malaya, di’ bukad ha Mayo. Inin tarukanga nga labi kahayaw ha pagkakaaga daw na naparayaw, bis’an kalatsutsi, bisan surangga, may hamo’t may dagway nga sadang ibangga: di’na mapakadto lain nga ibayo, damo an bukad ta ha bulan ha Mayo. Magpakadilain nga kabukaranan, di na kinahangalan ngatanan ngaranan; may bukad hin kahoy, may bukad nga buhi nga say rayandayan hinin kinabuhi; bukad nga nasunog sugad han kalayo, hinin kasingkasing, kun bulan ha Mayo. “Every month of May, there is what we called “Flores de Mayo.” These are done by beautiful ladies walking and they have used different flowers for their arko and for their bouquet. Flowers to be used are selected carefully. They symbolize many things and selecting the right flower becomes more attractive to the judgemental eyes of the people watching it. It also gives beauty to the lady that uses the flower as her design in her arko. The beauty of those flowers that we have seen during the month of May is really priceless.” SOOTHING AS NIGHT WINDS ARE Salvador B. Espinas
  9. 9. Love is gentle, love is quiet Like any distant star Love is beauty, love is music Soothing as night winds are. Love is patient and unselfish Divine, true, neutral, fair – Love is ageless and immortal, Lost love is just somewhere And the heart that abandons, Nurses a tender scar, Softly stabbing, and yet sweetly Soothing as night winds are. “Love is unconditional. You can never predict what love is. Love can make things go right and beast will turning to a Good Samaritan” SPEAK NOT Soledad R. Juan Speak not to me of great reception halls Where stately ladies walk with stately men;
  10. 10. Speak not to me of dancing long at balls Nor revelry till goodness knows but when. I would not hear of how an endless round Of parties, concerts, shows-all the rest forgot- Is heaven. No, those pleasures find me bound; They are not mine to taste-I know them not. But speak to me of quiet, calm repose, When I may think and give my thoughts free play, Explore each nook imagination knows, And roam the world a million times a day. Then shall my soul find joyful hours alone When all is mine that Fancy bids me own. “ This poem was written by a teen-aged girl who was bound to a sickbed all he life, and yet she did not find her life monotonous and boring. Many people measure enjoyment in terms of “ a good time”. They welcome their vacation as one long opportunity foe a good time, and they dread nothing more than being sick in bed.” QUIETNESS Amador T. Daguio I am lover of quietness- Unechoed songs within a silent heart, A sliver pond, a statued loveliness Where words can take no part.
  11. 11. I love the quiet ways of memory, The quiet looks to give you loving praise, The quiet secrets of my misery Through quiet nights and days. The quiet mountains of the earth I love, The moving clouds, the sun, the dewy leaf. My quiet questioning o God above, My quite, tearless grief “City people are bombarded by noise. The numble of trucks passing, the screech of the brakes, the blare of radios and jukeboxes forever blast our ears. To a person who spends days and nights in the noisy city, the longing for quiet and serenity is understandable” Photograph: Father and kids at home ni Imelda Morales Aznar There is no balance in composition: all three persons are pushed to the left, and on the right only the water meter, mailbox, and the number 17 in your delicate handwriting near the doorway. My sister stands wearing a naughty grin and a pendant of the crucifiedChrist over her shirt.
  12. 12. My year-old nephew is sitting in his carriage, buckled at the waist. His tiny, white toes alert. In the background, the steel gate of your sister’s house looms gray. Yet like a child you sit on your haunches, both hands clutching the pram’s handle bars. And your whole face smiles like the world is yours. “Family that prays together stays forever” MARIA CLARA`S SONG JOSE RIZAL Sweet are the hours in one's native land, Where all is dear the sunbeams bless; Life-giving breezes sweep the strand, And death is softened by love's caress. Warm kisses play on mother's lips, On her fond, tender breast awaking When round her neck the soft arm slips, And bright eyes smile, all love partaking.
  13. 13. “This poems states all the memorable experiences that the writer want to share. It shows also shows one of the great characters of Dr. Jose Rizal and his true appreciation to his land and great love to our country and to his countrymen.” TO THE FILIPINO FLAG: A SALUTATION Guillermo V. Sison Raise our flag and hail it proudly, Keep it there and guard it bravely, See it waving in the sun; Hail the symbol and the flower Of our people's pomp and power, See it's grandeur in the sun. In its colour is the story Writin blood of dead men's glory- Fly it for our martyred brave; In our dreams we will remember, In our breasts will grow forever, All the valor of our brave. Where are all the hands that held it,
  14. 14. Lips of fire that kissed and hailed it in balintawak's first cry? Where are those who died defending Tirad Pass, their flag up holding, Flashing it against the sky? Here we are, the young and daring, Ready with the country sharing Sharing in the love of flag; Here we are beneath its shadow, Soul undaunted. True to follow Valiantly our country's flag. Drape our flag about our bosom Warmly, till in us will blossom Flame for our beloved land; Breathe on it our burning spirit, Bless it with our life, defend it With a bold, heroic hand. Let the flag, as fire to weld us, Bind our fibres firmly, make us Strong, invincible, and all Thus united we shall flourish,
  15. 15. From the earth we shall not perish Our young nation shall not fall. Holy flag of God's fair country, Flag of hope and faith and glory, Holy Filipino flag! Be in peace our inspiration, Guiding gleam and veneration, Radiant Filipino flag! Wave, O flag, o'er farms of golden Grain; o'er mountains, fields, wealth-laden O'er this paradise of peace! We will work with warmer passion, Build our dreams a living tension, Grow in God's sweet light and peace. Flag that loosed us our serfdom; Flag that gave us morning, freedom; Lead our race, the the brown and free! None shall haul thee down and trample On our freedom's sacred temple, None shall slave again the free!
  16. 16. “In this poem, it states that our flag is one of the most important treasures of our country, because it reminds us to the fight of every Filipino and all of the heroes who dedicate their lives for freedom. It reminds us to the true meaning of freedom, unity and love for our country.” MACTAN Virginia B. Licuanan A messenger from the Spaniards came That day in fifteen twenty-one; He came in in Magellan's name To the island of Mactan. To Lapulapu who was the chief That on Mactan did reign He said “I ask in our leader's name A tribute name for the king of Spain.” “A tribute for a foreign king?” He heard proud Lapulapu say. “Tell your leader not tell a thing Will the of this island pay. “Weand their fathers before Have on this island live: We owe no tribute to any king,
  17. 17. And no tribute shall we give.” “if you do not give what we ask” Was the messenger's reply “The Spaniards will come with swords and guns And you and your men shall die.” “If they have guns,”Lapulapu said, “So have we our weapons too; If the Spaniard to our island come, They shall see what bamboo spears can do. “The Spaniards sword are made for steel And their armors are strong and bright Against all weapons we shall win While we are in the right.” Lapulapu's eyes flashed as he repeated , And his voice did proudly ring: “Weare freemen and will pay No tribute to a foreign king.” When Magellan heard Lapulapu words
  18. 18. He said with all disdain “How dare this little chief affront His Majesty of Spain. “Our guns and this man's False pride will break, If he will not tribute give, Then tribute we will take. Well show this chief that our words We can follow with our deed Prepare three ships and sixty men And I myself will lead. For the island of Mactan The Spaniards did set sail, Their and swords are in great display To make the enemy quail. Their ships and armor were glittering show Of military might Never had the peaceful Mactan waters, Mirror was a warlike sight And when they anchored dropped Off the palm-fringed Mactan shore , “I'll teach this chief a lesson,:
  19. 19. The Spanish leader swore He lead his soldier to the beach In full battle array. “My men, for our king ' Magellan said “Let us make this a proud day.” We have guns and armor Our enemy has none Our sword against those bamboo spears. The fight as good as won. But Lapulapu stood proudly As the Spanish drew near “No Spaniards armor Will save them from my spears. “Aim true !” he told his men “when your spears fling Remember the freemen do not bow To any foreign king. Steel sword against bamboo spears It seemed an uneven fight And the Spanish armor
  20. 20. Increased each Spaniard might. But Lapulapu and his brave men Into the battle led And soon the blue-green Mactan waters With the Spaniard blow red “Fight on my men “Magellan cried “Fight for gracious Majesty.......” “Fight on ,men in Mactan.”Lapulapu said, “Fight for our liberty. : The Cause of the Liberty lent more strength Than the Spanish steel and lead And soon Magellan lay dying , And his soldiers all had fled. And Mactan is an island That lives in history Where man brave men died for a king And another lived for liberty. “The story of our past would not be complete if we leave out the story of our struggle for freedom. The poem that followed shows vivid glimpse of our fight for liberty. The historical account of arrival of Magellan and Lapu-lapu fought to keep our country from foreign rule.” THE SAMPAGUITA
  21. 21. Natividad Marquez Little sampaguita With the wondering eye Did a tiny fair Drop you where you lie? In the witching hour Of the tropic night Did the careless moonbeam Leave you in its fight? “As a child you must have looked for the tiny buds as the early rain began to fall. You probably watched this buds develop into a flower which perfumes the air. The sampaguita is tiny and fragrant. We use to make leis with which to greet our friends who come to visits us.”
  22. 22. Last Love by: J.D. Mariposa Best of friends together took a leap Now true friends ahh! feelings run deep Two hearts fused hands ever entwined Ti's all worth the wait to care for one as kindly Never never too late to love but not blindly So, to you my friend first, my last love, i say I'll be true every and each of my waking day! 2. Last Piece in the Puzzle of My life Vic P. Yambao The sweetness of your Voice Your soul searching eyes Throw in the smiling lips Makes my life complete Missing you,when you're gone But frozen stiff when you're around As my worthless life is now complete This dream might end... if I'll stir... 3.
  23. 23. Who Am I Brian Joseph Sy Who am I to blindly believe that I can become parcel of this sacred ground? To pretend that I am a strong wind to guide your ever sturdy wings Who am I to change this persistent blue rain? To pretend that I can wash the sorrows away from your ever beating heart Who am I to care for this mortified soul? To pretend that sanctity ascends in my figureless touch… I am none. Transcending only the littlest of existence only meager eyes could see. In the skies I plead alms to catch your merciful grace; To rescue me from this lonesome cloud of misery that I call self 4. Tracing You Kristina Aquino Imagine the train tracks, the train speeding away from you. We were somewhere and someone else a minute ago. So I give you this, the poet, the imagined martyr, unmoving in her seat--she is one of the firsts, she is daybreak today-- it does nothing but stare back. She is so still the train stops with her. "Cubao", she mouths. Imagine the train tracks, the train speeding away from you, Cubao. We were with you
  24. 24. some minute ago. There are buildings on the way to the end of the line, but structure eliminates the idea of a horizon. It is sad when imagined things start dying, too. 5. Friendship Vener Santos Days will pass, And things will grow old. Flowers will bloom, And soon will decay. But when friendship starts, All of the year it will remain fresh. Friends will grow old, But friendship will never. As long as we both care, It will remain young forever. Death will separate it on earth, But it will reborn in heaven. 6. No rest Kyo Zapanta It's time for me to rest for a while My condition is not that good But hell, I can't seem to leave behind Whatever it is that I must do c pI know it’s been in overtime I shouldn’t be here anymore But that workaholiart of me Seem to like the stress in store But then again by head’s in pain My body is just saying no My eyes are swollen and tears are forming
  25. 25. I could cry in stress ever so But I wouldn’t cry even if I feel it For when I do I’ll be okay Then I would again want to work And I’ll be working for the rest of the day 7. Distillation Jan L. Velasco Watching the rain spilling down, drowning the earth below, reminds me of life's perpetual change. The storm that we dread, is a sea of kindness that lifts--the mask of (world's) avarice and sufferings and fills the thirst, up to the brim of our souls. 8. Now I Know Jose Paulo Tolentino Seven months felt like seven years and now I face my greatest fears Why before I could never wait but now I know the heavy weight. In a strange world, a mad city, it is tough to be an adult you take responsibility to bear frustration and insult There are days I would like to die life is not pretty as it seem Leave this and what do I redeem? many I have learned is just a lie They say I should create a goal Love and life is what you make it but somehow it just could not fit All I have is a hollow soul
  26. 26. From here I don't know where to go Being an adult, now I know. 9. Hot Karlo Pineda A wrinkled forehead alters your fair face. Furious stares nest in your eyes--sanctuaries for nothing save fears and fires. By this time you are a swollen sun ready to punish my city with the scorching of twin hells. And in your mad radiation I am a giant sunburn. As I write this poem my heart has already exploded to myriad embers. 10. My unfinished verse Ulysses Palmones You were sitting on the coach, you stole my glance My heart leaps, nowhere to run I tried to hide, pretended and lied You were just a dream Part of my foolish game…. How can I disguise those sleepless nights? Where silhouette of thy beauty Humming to my serenity A glowing ember A feeling next to never…. Chasing my illusion, my eventual desperation Tasted the nectar of bitterness and plan tomorrow, how to clean my mess A test to my sanity Or maybe…my stupidity…..
  27. 27. Will you came to unlock my chain? Maybe a piece of gem To replace the wedding ring A cradle to my loneliness and craziness…. http://10poemsthatwrittenbyfilipinos.blogspot.com/ PROEM Jose Garcia Villa The meaning of a poem is not a meaning of words. The meaning of a poem is a symbol like the breathlessness of birds. A poem cannot be repeated in paraphrase. A poem is not a thought but a grace. A poem has no meaning but loveliness. A poem has no purpose than to caress. Back to main SONNET I Jose Garcia Villa First, a poem must be magical, Then musical as a sea gull.
  28. 28. It must be a brightness moving And hold secret a bird's flowering. It must be slender as a bell, And it must hold fire as well. It must have the wisdom of bows And it must kneel like a rose. It must be able to hear The luminance of dove and deer. It must be able to hide What it seeks, like a bride. And over all I would like to hover God, smiling from the poem's cover. PICTURE SHOW Guillermo Castillo By God's divine will, I waken sitting in the dark with my attention set upon a Screen before me while God behind me in His closet with His intricate machines projects a Moving Picture Show a masterpiece which we call-Life. O MY NATIVE LAND Tarrosa Subido Beloved Land, let me explain to thee Why thought of nearing death provokes a pain;
  29. 29. 'Tis not that I again shall never see These Orient Isles of kindly sun and rain; Not that the visionary spirit must Forego the wonders she had fondly schemed; Not that the flesh must soon succumb to dust, With Love's avowals only half redeemed. O my beloved Land, whose air I breathe, Whose bounty is my daily sustenance, How sad to leave with nothing to bequeath, Thy weal to serve, thy glory to enhance; How shameful, finally, to dare to rest My thankless dust upon thy noble breast! JUNGLE RAIN Maximo Ramos Sudden claps of thunder and now the rain Comes at a gallop to the shadowy jungle Beating pitter-patter on the leaves overhead And on the jungle floor of roots and fallen leaves And on the rotting log where a python lies asleep. Then a wild fowl gives a crow from nowhere And the hoarse call of a hornbill Breaks out of a top branch. And the unknown voices of the wilderness Have soon resumed their long low chorus With the passing of the jungle rain. SONG IN EXILE Aurelio S. Alvero
  30. 30. It is harvest-time in Polo and the fields bear ripened grain, Stalks on stalks of gold and yellow; fruit of sun and rain- There's a moon of gleaming silver looking down on fields below, Stars that sprinkle dark blue heavens with their ever-sparkling glow; List to songs of voices joyful sing of love and joy and gain. For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain. When it is harvest-time in Polo, all the folks are in the fields, Gathering all the fruit so mellow that the good earth gladly yields- Little maidens fresh as blossoms, gay young swains with happy smiles, Busy women ever thinking of the coming afterwhiles, Sturdy men whose iron bodies bend unmindful of the pain, For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain. Scythes are moving in the silver glowing of the harvest-moon, Keeping time to strains of music of a lively native tune; Dainty fingers gather rice stalks, quickly tie them into sheaves, Gleaners picking the remainders that the owner gladly leaves; Bent to earth, they all are working-but there rings a happy strain For 'tis harvest-time in Polo and the fields are ripe with grain. Now 'tis harvest time in Polo; I can hear their happy songs, But I must stay in city walls while my sad heart fondly longs To be with them and join the harvest of the laden stalks of gold; I can see them gaily working 'neath the moonrays brightly cold- And oh! to be with them this evening, to do the harvest once again In this harvest-time in Polo where the fields are ripe with grain. MANG TEBAN AND THE WEATHER Josue Rem. Siat
  31. 31. One April noon when all was bright And clear and dazzling to the sight, Beside the road Mand Teban stood Wiping his face in sullen mood. He saw the heatwaves in the glare As devils on the stage afire And chafed in the sultry air And wish for rainy days. Then (when salt sold at treble price) And muddy pools mocked cloudy skies, Mang Teban, passing dripping trees, With trousers rolled up to his knees, Reproached the sky and saw the rain As diablos dancing in the mire- And shrank in the pelting rain- And wished for sunny days! SHADOWS Gerson M. Mallillin They are like strangers on the ground, These shadows shy, Walk upon them, strike them, They never cry. And yet within me something says Thay are the hosts, And we-but strangers in a place Whose kings are ghosts.
  32. 32. TO THE MAN I MARRIED Angela Manalang Gloria I can not love with a love That outcompares the boundless sea, For that were false, as no such love And no such ocean can ever be. But I can love you with a love As finite as the wave that dies And dying holds from crest to crest The blue of everlasting skies. VISAYAN POEM Joseph B. Man How can I ever finish this mat I am weaving? Each time I look at it, each strip turns into the former reeds that bent and bowed as he parted them with his hands by the river's bank where we first met. He stepped out of his canoe and offered me a jar. He said he and his people made them down there where the river bends. He culled some water hyacinths which he said would beautifully go with the jar. I remember I only cast my eyes down and stupidly looked at his feet. He said he had to stay a while; much paddling had
  33. 33. made him tired. I said I had to go; the moon was already high, I had to cook rice. I started to move but when he pleadingly looked at me I lingered. He said my lips were like the macopas in his garden; my teeth some white gourd seeds. He said my hair was like a vinta's sail; my slender arms unfurled banana leaves. Before he left he whispered he would wait for me where the reeds grow thickest by the river's bank tonight. He asked whether I would come or not. I did not say no, I did not say yes. The moon is now up. Is that the noice of paddling I seem to hear by the river's bank? Why do my heart- beat deafen me? Must I go or...Ah, what care I if this mat would never be finished? TO JOSEPHINE Jose Rizal Josephine, Josephine Who to these shores have come Looking for a nest, a home, Like a wandering swallow; If your fate is taking you To Japan, China or Shanghai, Don't forget that on these shores A heart for you beats so high TO THE CHILD JESUS Jose Rizal
  34. 34. Why comest thou Child-God To earth in a humble home? Does fortune already thee scorn When hardly thou hast come? Oh! How sad! Of heaven King And come thee like common man! Than Shepherd of thy flock Won't thou rather besovereign? To Virgin Mary Mary, sweet peace, solace dear Of pained mortal ! You're the fount Whence emanates the stream of succor, That without cease our soil fructifies. From thy throne, from heaven high, Kindly hear my sorrowful cry! And may thy shining veil protect My voice that rises with rapid flight. Thou art my Mother, Mary, pure; Thou'll be the fortress of my life; Thou'll be my guide on this angry sea. If ferociously vice pursues me, If in my pains death harasses me, Help me, and drive away my woes To Josephine Rizal dedicated this poem to Josephine Bracken, an Irish woman who went to Dapitan accompanying a man seeking Rizal's services as an ophthalmologist. Josephine, Josephine Who to these shores have come Looking for a nest, a home, Like a wandering swallow; If your fate is taking you To Japan, China or Shanghai, Don't forget that on these shores A heart for you beats high. Song of Maria Clara A poem, found in Rizal's book Noli Me Tangere, sung by Maria Clara, which accounts for the title Sweet are the hours in one's own Native Land, All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above; Vivifying is the breeze that wafts over her fields; Even death is gratifying and more tender is love. Ardent kissed on a mother's lips are at play, On her lap, upon the infant child's awakening, The extended arms do seek her neck to entwine, And the eyes at each other's glimpse are smiling.
  35. 35. It is sweet to die in one's own Native Land, All there is friendly o'er which the sun shines above; And deathly is the breeze for one without A country, without a mother and without love. A Poem That Has No Title To my Creator I sing Who did soothe me in my great loss; To the Merciful and Kind Who in my troubles gave me repose. Thou with that pow'r of thine Said: Live! And with life myself I found; And shelter gave me thou And a soul impelled to the good Like a compass whose point to the North is bound. Thou did make me descend From honorable home and respectable stock, And a homeland thou gavest me Without limit, fair and rich Though fortune and prudence it does lack. Kundiman Truly hushed today Are my tongue and heart Harm is discerned by love And joy flies away, 'Cause the Country was Vanquished and did yield Through the negligence Of the one who led. But the sun will return to dawn; In spite of everything Subdued people Will be liberated; The Filipino name Will return perhaps And again become In vogue in the world. We shall shed Blood and it shall flood Only to emancipate The native land; While the designated time Does not come, Love will rest And anxiety will sleep. Our Mother Tongue A poem originally in Tagalog written by Rizal when he was only eight years old IF truly a people dearly love The tongue to them by Heaven sent, They'll surely yearn for liberty Like a bird above in the firmament. BECAUSE by its language one can judge A town, a barrio, and kingdom;
  36. 36. And like any other created thing Every human being loves his freedom. ONE who doesn't love his native tongue, Is worse than putrid fish and beast; AND like a truly precious thing It therefore deserves to be cherished. THE Tagalog language's akin to Latin, To English, Spanish, angelical tongue; For God who knows how to look after us This language He bestowed us upon. AS others, our language is the same With alphabet and letters of its own, It was lost because a storm did destroy On the lake the bangka 1 in years bygone. To the Philippines Rizal wrote the original sonnet in Spanish Aglowing and fair like a houri on high, Full of grace and pure like the Morn that peeps When in the sky the clouds are tinted blue, Of th' Indian land, a goddess sleeps. The light foam of the son'rous sea Doth kiss her feet with loving desire; The cultured West adores her smile And the frosty Pole her flow'red attire. With tenderness, stammering, my Muse To her 'midst undines and naiads does sing; I offer her my fortune and bliss: Oh, artists! her brow chaste ring With myrtle green and roses red And lilies, and extol the Philippines! AndyWarhol Speaksto HisTwo FilipinaMaids by AlfredYuson Art, mydears,isnot cleaningup afterthe act. Neitherisitwashingoff grime withthe soapof tact. In fact and intruth, mydears,art is dead center,betweenmeals,amidspices and spoilage.Fillsupthe whitebread sweepof life'sobedientslices. Art isthe lettersyousendhome aboutthe manyou serve.Orthe salad youbring into my parlorof elites. While Manhattanstaresdownat the soup
  37. 37. of ouraffinities.Andwe heartalkof coup inyour islands.There theycopylove the way I do,as how I arrive overandover againat art. Perhapstooit isthe time markedby the sandin yourshoes,spilling softlylike rumor.AfteryourheartsIlust. In our God youtrust.And it'syour dayoff. Principe byEmanLacaba I do notknowmy ownposition. Somewhere behindme isastructure of masksand wallsthathave beenmylife inplayswithlives.Eachfour-cornered room unknowntoandunknowingof eachother containsme,knowingall,known to all,andyet unknown.Ihave come to a room of mirrors andam caught by myselves.Itisdifferent, for I escape before andbehind, leftandrightof me,a stage without the curtainsand yetwiththem, stage by stage,a patternof deception. I do notknowmy ownposition. KUNDIMAN by Eman Lacaba Angsabi mopulaang paboritomo. Angsabi koputi ang paboritoko. Kagabi nang tayongdalawa'ynagkita, nakapulaakoat nakaputi ka. KUNDIMAN What yousaid wasred isa favorite of yours. What I saidis white wasa favorite of mine. Whenthe two of us saw eachotherlast night, I dressedinredand youwore white. (translatedfromthe TagalogbyPaoloJavier)
  38. 38. Philippine Poetry The Rural Maid By Fernando M. Maramag 1. Thy glance, sweet maid, when first we met, Had left a heart that aches for thee, I feel the pain of fond regret— Thy heart, perchance, is not forme. 2. We parted: though we met no more, My dreams are dreams of thee, fair maid; I think of thee, my thoughts implore The hours my lips on thine are laid. 3. Forgive these words that love impart, And pleading, bare the poet’s breast; And if a rose with thorns thou art, Yet on my breast that rose may rest. 4. I know not what to name thy charms, Thou art half human, half divine; And if I could hold thee in my arms, I know both heaven and earth were mine. When I Was No Bigger Than A Huge By Jose Garcia Villa When, I, was, no, bigger, than, a, huge, Star, in, my, self, I, began, to, write, My, Theology, Of, rose, and,
  39. 39. Tiger: till, I, burned, with, their Pure, and, Rage. Then, was, I, Wrath- Ful, And, most, Gentle: most, Dark, and, yet, most, Lit: in, me, an, Eye, there, grew: springing, Vision, Its, Gold, and, Its, wars. Then, I, knew, the, Lord, was, not, my, Creator! --Not,He, the, Unbegotten—but, I, saw, The, Creator, Was, I—and, I, began, to, Die, and, I, began, to, Grow And If the Heart Can Not Love By Jose Garcia Villa And if the heart can not love death cannot cure it nor sleep no splendor of wound the heart had no sound Bloomhas escaped it and birth the miraculous flower and music and speech leave it unbewitched God it cannot spell nor sun nor lover the beautiful word and it has no sound no sound nor wound.
  40. 40. First, A Poem Must Be Magical By Jose Garcia Villa First, a poem must be magical, Then musical as a seagull. It must be a brightness moving And hold secret a bird’s flowering It must be slender as a bell, And it must hold fire as well. It must have the wisdom of bows And it must kneel like a rose. It must be able to hear The luminance of dove and deer. It must be able to hide What it seeks, like a bride. And over all I would like to hover God, smiling fromthe poem’s cover. THE GUERILLA IS LIKE A POET Jose Maria Sison The guerilla is like a poet Keen to the rustle of leaves The break of twigs The ripples of the river The smell of fire And the ashes of departure. The guerilla is like a poet. He has merged with the trees The bushes and the rocks Ambiguous but precise Well-versed on the law of motion And master of myriad images. The guerilla is like a poet. Enrhymed with nature The subtle rhythm of the greenery The inner silence, the outer innocence The steel tensile in-grace That ensnares the enemy. The guerilla is like a poet. He moves with the green brown multitude In bush burning with red flowers That crown and hearten all
  41. 41. Swarming the terrain as a flood Marching at last against the stronghold. An endless movement of strength Behold the protracted theme: The people’s epic, the people’s war. 1968