A figure without a face. Empty pages. Note to self: It's just a notebook. Don't mistake the thought for anything else.
Be happy!
Something I wrote years back. This is how I feel about myself everytime I approach a blank piece of paper (or an empty Word Document workspace), and the blank remains blank...the empty remains as such.
The Prodigal Writer
I stowed away for some time
Leaving the scribbles behind
Crumpled the papers
And left the pen in silence
Then I was treading back
Barefooted, empty-handed
Distressed from noisy confusion
Beaten up by my self-inflicted monsters
Hungry of thoughts
I am treading back home
In reading between the lines
In the world of ink and paper
The cradle of the conscious and the thinkers
Where the mind speaks out louder than the mouth does
I turned my back to you
But never burned the bridge behind
I implore...open your arms back
For this writer in me was dead and is alive again
... Was lost and is found.
Copyright 2007 Lou Natalie Pugay
All rights reserved.
No part of this poem may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the author.
"Our tears prepare the ground for our future growth. Without this creative moistening, we may remain barren. " - Julia Cameron, The Complete Artist's Way. I just happened to encounter the above line while reading a new book. As always, I was reminded again of my poem written several years ago (3.5 years to be exact?) Writing has become a passion for me. If I can call somebody (I mean, something) an imaginary friend, that would be the inclination to this hobby. I hesitate calling myself a writer. That may entail a lot of expectations. How much more if I called myself a Creative Writer? Oh...oh..oh...Sounds "Owwss? C'mon!" (Oooppss! I think I am getting out of the topic.)As any writer is, I am usually inspired writing when I feel bad -- lonely, depressed, annoyed, confused, lost (think of all the negative emotions). Having finished another product of the pen is the only thing that I thank those emotions for. I do not want to elaborate much on the poem. I know this is not well-done, but I hope you perceive it as you read. (If not, it's a failure on my part.) But...well, just for the gist...From time to time, we need tears. But we need to know when and where to stop. Have a great day!
~*~*~*~
PAPEL AT LUPA
Papel at lupa--
Magkaugnay
Kung paanong ang tigang na lupa
ay hungkag at di tubuan halaman,
gayundin ang blangkong papel --
walang ideyang ubod maani.
Sa bahagyang pagluha ng ulap,
mababasa ang lupa,
tutubo ang butong itinanim.
Gayundin, sa pagtangis ng panulat,
mababasa ang papel
at uusbong ang mga ideyang
nakabaon sa isip.
Ngunit tagtuyo na para sa panulat,
kagaya ng putik sa tabing lawa
na natuyot at nagtitipak-tipak.
Wala na ring iluha ang pagod na mga mata.
Katapusan na ba?
Huwag mag-aalala.
Hindi lamang sa ulan maaring mabasa ang lupa,
at hindi lamang pluma ang maaring ipanulat.
Copyright 2004 Lou Natalie Pugay
Published for Lumad 2004.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this poem may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the editors or the author.