jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

dawn and qarrtsiluni

dawn–
the Sierra Madres peaks
burst in pink

in the bamboo grove
shadows shed off the night–
dawn

glinting–
puddles in rice fields
at dawn

each step
on rice paddies
dawn unfurls

their blush regained–
frangipanis at dawn

dawn from the balcony of Angeles Estates, Munoz (Science City), Nueva Ecija, Philippines

It’s a glorious sight from the balcony of Angeles Estates where I stay when I used to travel north from Manila, and on the highways in Nueva Ecija, the Philippines’ central plains. Dawn has always been my time of day though not as much when I moved to this other side of the hemisphere. On rare mornings though, I catch dawn on tips of conifers–the same pink purple though often with hints of red as I’ve waken to as a child.

Why am I talking of dawn today? Because I feel a new morning just risen, figuratively, with the publication of my three tanka in three languages, English, Spanish and Iluko on http://qarrtsiluni.com (click on my blogroll, too). It comes with a podcast of my reading. You may wish to check it out.

January 13, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

haibun: my first shooting star (para mi hermana, Margaret)

A haibun attempt as promised for Margaret, mi hermana de mi alma, in a comment on Stargazing at haikudoodle

I wrote this as a journal some ten years ago when I stayed at Angeles Estates in Munoz, Nueva Ecija, the Philippines’ central plains. Nothing but acres of rice fields, edged by the Sierra Madres the sky most evenings did tantalize. One evening I finally caught a shooting star…

It flared in the shape of wings, and was gone in a blink – my first shooting star.

Before then, a moon was sailing past its fullness, but brimming in the edges. It was cruising toward a thin veil of clouds, sailing through an iridescent sky. Its ride must have been bumpy on the grainy surface, but dreamy from a tender blue light beaming underneath that sieve.

In the glow, the lawn turned murky beige, the leaves of the escarlatina (frangipani), dark and glinting; and the gumamela blooms, pallid and droopy.

My eyes were trailing a white dog, yellowed under a weak moon, when the star must have started to skid. When I turned to break a branch to whip the ground and drive the dog away—that was when I glimpsed the flare.

It had vanished before I could breathe. I laughed; my laughter had bubbled off my heart without my coaxing. When I turned for someone whom I can tell of my star, the night had turned: the moon had burst out of the clouds, the blooms began to glisten; and the dog was gone.

shooting star—
a flap of wings
the same sky?

AE gardens during the day

Escarlatina in the sun

Also posted in http://www.iluko.com with a few paragraphs which I attempted to translate in Iluko. More pictures and information on the estate at http://www.angelesestates.com

December 17, 2010 Posted by | haibun, lyrical prose, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments