In externalizing our thoughts and express our feelings in a different perspective, poetry becomes a powerful tool other than written, spoken, or sign languages. This literary work has a special intensity that allows us to express emotions, feelings, and ideas by the use of distinctive style, imaginative ideas, elevated thoughts, and spiffing command of the chosen language.
Poetry, heretofore, is always regarded as an optional means of communication while simultaneously recognized as an intellectual product based on factual or fictitious experience. As a form of literary piece composed from the innermost sentiments of the author, poetry is much richer than prose. It is so abstract with myriads of endless possible definitions. Although difficult to specifically comprehend, poetry remains to be one of the most popular and written expression of human emotions.
According to one of America’s leading poets, Robert Lee Frost: “Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” And if painting is considered as a silent poetry and poetry is a speaking picture as poet Simonides so categorically declared, poetry then is truly one powerful means to stir even the most impuissant heart and stoic emotion.
Free verse poetry is a deviation from the traditional rhymed and metered form which has neither set patterns nor rhyme scheme which poets find very liberating since it allows people to be able to whimsically shift thoughts or change moods at anytime within the piece. The author is given poetic license to be able to denote the distortion of fact, alteration of the conventions of grammar or language, or to reword pre existing text to improve his piece. Sometimes, poetic license is applied to preserve the flow of rhythm and thoughts.
Being a true-blooded subscriber to traditional poetry, Robert L. Frost looked at free verse poetry as something like “playing tennis without a net.” But just like in painting, free verse is an offshoot from the traditional or realism style.
Walt Whitman, the Father of American free verse poetry, in his “A Noiseless Patient Spider,” best exemplifies his proficiency in this area with his uncontrolled use metaphoric phrases while the Mother of American free verse Emily Dickinson, effectively employed slant rhymes and metrical variations in her “Come Slowly Eden.”
Regarded as the rebellious son of free verse was Ezra Pound, author of “The Garden,” because of his most archaic-sounding poems since Geoffrey Chaucer but Wallace Steven was considered one of the best modern free verse poets known for his piece, “The Snow Man.”
Filipinos, being creative by nature, is never out of the race. One of the most outstanding free verse poets who has globally gained recognitions and honored for his literary brilliance was Rolando Carbonell. His “Beyond Forgetting,” a compilation of emotionally-laden poems he published during the early 1960s, paved way for free verse enthusiasts and eventually tapped potential free verse writers.
It was actually Carbonell who fueled the dormant fire and ignited the passion of my poetic inclination when I was in college as the Pilipino Editor and literary contributor to The Campus Leader, the University of Manila’s official student publication. His influence was so inspiring that I was able to compose my signature free verse poem during the wee hours of the night, following a devastating loss of someone I so dearly loved. The prolific outpouring of my sentiments and emotions amazed me to no end after reading what I have written the morning after.
I soon came to realize that for as long as the mind perceives what the heart conveys, capturing the truest essence of its every beat and pulse clandestinely create a composition of pure and sincere emotional expression thus, bringing to the fore the very nature of one’s feeling from the very realm of his senses.
Like music, poetry, for me, is a universal language capable of bridging gaps and easing pains. It is an effective alternative for personal expression that is as unlimited as impossibility and as unfathomable as eternity, making poetry the very heart and soul of romantic lovers.
The following poems were lifted from my first published book of free verse poetry during the mid-60s with “The pain of Reminiscence” as the book title. My journalistic style is obviously poetic…and my mood easily sets in once tranquility reigns. The imperturbable ambience instantly offers a plethora of thoughts and ideas that involuntarily push my pen to transcribe the emotions I feel and all the ideas crowding my mind..
For the hopeless romantics and lovers in the verge of desperation, these free verse pieces are for your reading pleasure. Read on.
The Pain of Reminiscence
(Inspired by the loss of a first love) (1965)
…night has come again, beloved… full of fascinating thoughts, endearing charms…
enchanting feelings, starry dreams, and prolific reminiscences…
dews start falling like silvery drops… giving comfort to my solitude but can’t console…
and will never be…
for ‘though a million times i tried shutting the shadows of frustration
still they come back… haunting… more painful than ever.
i have been hurt, jilted…not only once but countless times
yet a night could suffice to soothe every pain of despair in me then…
unlike the one you caused…slight but deep…
filled my vulnerable heart with bitterness…
with pains i could no longer endure!
beloved…, tonight a music was composed through my sobs…
accompanied by the symphonic beatings of my heart,
rendered in its freezing coldness…
a faint song was heard…echoed in the deafening silence of solitude
with every single note piercing my heart
my benumbing senses begging and craving for your love…
and a poem was made, written in the tenderest flume of loneliness
amid the varied sounds i heard…
echoed in the stillness of the night…
where you’re lost without a trace… gone without a sign…
yearning I was…but to no avail…
tried to pacify the turbulent restlessness that enslaved me
in a seemingly endless torture…
but still I longed for you…
i longed for the warmth of your caress… of your tender kisses…
of your tight embrace!
…and now, night is here again, beloved…
dressed in its mourning velvet… driving an intense feeling in me to reminisce
trying to envelop my being with the dreadful agony of my haunting past…
tired and helpless am i…drowned from the gnawing coldness of your absence…
escaping reality is all i need… even for just a momentary bliss…
even for just a while, if only to rest my weary soul…
but, how could i, beloved…?
the more i tried to free myself from the bondage of your shadow
pain lingers incessantly even more…
this tormenting curse is way too much to bear!
truly it’s hard to ponder, to remember…
but twice as much to forget…
yes, beloved…getting you out of my mind is death to my soul
and poison to my mortality…
then, how could i forget…?
tell me…, beloved…
shall i forever be a slave to this curse of doom…?
how could i escape this tormenting pain of reminiscing our bygone days…
pray, show me…, how could i forget you, beloved…!
how…?
Reciprocation
(Written after an initial meeting with the girl who became my wife.) (1976)
Heaven’s promise was on your face when we first met
After a tormenting August rain
As King Ra cast glaring rays
Across the once drenched streets…now as arid as the Nile.
I could still recall the moss green dress you wore…
And the leather purse suspended from your gentle shoulder
With precision you strolled on dainty sandaled feet
Concerted locomotion upon potholed avenues…
Your coy smiles sent puzzling message
Excitement dug deep from stolen glances
Your every word laced with magic
Echoed intriguing senses and puzzling deafening silence.
So swiftly, we bonded…as swiftly as the fleeting moments
Amidst queues and throngs of fast-past pedestrians
And soon realized we were one
Even before the setting of the sun.
Whirlwind attraction, we supposed…
Inevitable destiny, or asserted certainty
But what was there to question when our hearts had spoken
More candidly what our lips failed to utter?
Like lone remnants that triumphed a global deluge
We ruled the world … held the time in the palm of our hands…
Muted confessions…fractioned moments…poignant pulses…
Intertwined unto unfathomed space
Found solace in our waiting arms
As we dared tread rain-washed boulevard of myriad woes
While clandestinely chained to what our hearts desired.
Mortality knew no surrender…
Lost souls gathered strength from newfound bliss
Wanting hearts in unrelenting communion
Induced consummation of intense desire
Offered a million and one irresistible celestial reciprocation.
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