melting minutes
into memories,
in to mayday parades of
everything i should have done,
everything i couldn't,
everyone who said i had to.
the days are starting
to feel like distant places
where my past self lives;
it is a miracle that i made
it here, it is a miracle
that i'm leaving,
it is a miracle
that my muscle memory
hasn't made me ruin it.
i've been thinking about
those first days,
the majestic trauma of
eighteen now the
monstrosity of twenty-two.
ahead of me lies a path of
i don't even know what
but i made it here,
i can make it anywhere.

If I were Newland Archer
What would I now do with my love?
Would I torment  her, ask impossible things,
Surrender to her irrational command
And let the others make my future plans?

Oh no! My beloved Ellen was wrong!
To think that I could stay the course,
That marriage could end like a closing door,
And leave the future in May’s serpentine hands.

This time, if such a chance were given me,
What would I do to make safe our love?
I would give up all I had thought so dear,
My frivolous books, effete pursuits, so she could be near.

I was unworthy, the first time, I know.
I consented to her feeling that I must go.
But now I would re-arrange my life, dare any disdain
Just to kiss her wrist in unfounded faith.

Would I again leave my Love if told to choose?
No! I was weak before, thinking that I had no chance.
Yes, oh, yes! How could I ever bear to lose
My Ellen and our enchanted dance?

I know I have wronged those who trusted me,
But don’t blame the unwitting authoress of my woe!
For it was my own frailty that blinded me,
My disregard for those things that
Any man with a heart should know.

I see now that if to May’s wish I did not bend,
She would see my surrender was great to me but small to her,
She would find another, as resolute women do under duress.
And instead of a false life, Ellen, I could be alive with you!

                                    -----------------------­--

Written if Newland Archer (of the novel "Age of Innocence") had listened to no one and abandoned not only the wife who shanghaied him into domestic servitude, but his own priggish insistence on doing the “right” thing for the wrong reasons.

Semi-finished, June 19, 2011

Sharon Talbot

Yo.  Or, what am I supposed to put here, again?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXXX)


O!  I could swear May yawns at me from hence,
Now that snow's curse is gone, as if the tale
Of slaughtered yards 'non waking to th'all hail
As twere of sweet Favon'us are but thence
Slain in that heat dear Shakespeare knew fr'intents,
Likeas to murmur that the violets pale
Ere I've had chance to finger them t'avail,
And laughs now in my face like hope's pretense.
Where are the dandelions nodding through
That oven breath if such things are so true?
Why do the windows fog up still in tour
Before the day is old?  And wherefore, fer
All that, is evry bough yet naked?  Poor
As blue skies' teases, I'm mixt up now too.

16Mar19b

Napa-ibig ako sa aking kinakaibigan.
Sa una siguro’y ang pakiramdam ay magaan.
Nagkakilala ng basta-basta, walang dahilan.
Siguro dahil na rin sa  mabuting kapalaran.

Isang araw’y nalaman ko,
Magkapit-bahay lang pala kami.
Lalong nagkalapit ang puso’t damdamin.
Makalipas ang isang taon ng pagkikilala,
Sa dami ng tambay, kain, at gala,
Sa problema ng tropa o kaya’t sa pamilya,
Sa ngiti at ngisi sa bawa’t asaran,
Sa halip na ika’y may pagkasira,
Sa iyong puso na palaging hinihiwa,

Naroon ako sa iyong tabi,
Unti-unting napapangiti,
Napapamahal,
Nahuhulog ang dibdib,
Sa iyong pagkatao’t diwa.

Naaalala ko pa noong ika-siyam ng Mayo,
Bago matapos ang taon ng pag-aaral,
Sa isang buwan magkakahiwalayan na,
Magkokolehiyo na’t iiwan ang mga pinagdaanan.
Umiyak ka sakin habang nakain pa ng pakwan.
Na natatakot lang magsimula ulit,
Na makaranas ng bagong landas,
Na magbago, at maging kung sino man.
Na mahal mo ang iyong mga kaibigan,
Na ayaw mo silang iwanan.

Sinabi ko sayo,
Ika’y minamahal,
Ika’y itinatangi.
Ngunit hindi ko masabi,
Na ako ang magmamahal,
Ako ang magtatangi sa’yo.
Kaya ako’y gumawa ng katwiran,
Na kaming mga kaibigan mo,
Ay naririto lamang.

Ang pag-ibig ay parang nota,
Sa musika ng tadhana,
Sa teatro ng buhay.
Ito’y maligaya,
Upang hikayatin,
Ang ating puso na makinig.
Ngunit hindi kang saya ang ipinaparating.
Kundi’ hirap, lungkot, at paghihinagpis.

Parang emosyonal na gitara,
Na minsan nasisira,
Napuputol ang kwerdas,
Nasasaktan ang kamay,
Nalulumbay sa tono,
Habang humihiyaw,
Kumakanta ng buong puso,
Para sa ating mga sinta.

Dumating ang Agosto,
Miyerkules ng unang linggo,
Sa ika-beintidos ko nalaman,
Na galing pa sa iyong dila,
Na ako’y huli na sa paligsahan,
Na mayroon ng nanalo sa laban.
Ang puso mo’y nasagip na ng iba,
Ika’y nagkwento ng matagal-tagal.
Ang ningning sa iyong mata’y,
Parang ilaw sa entablado,
Nakikita ko ang mga sumasayaw,
Ligaya ang aking nararamdaman,
Habang ang aktor ay ako,
Na iyong tinitigan ng husto.
Pinipilit makinig nang maigi,
Sa kwentong busilak ng pag-ibig.

Ngunit pagkatapos ng kwento,
Naiwan akong mag-isa.
Sumigaw ng wala sa tono,
Sa kanta na puro hiyaw.
Hindi ko inakala,
Na ang kanta ko’y ganito,
Naisulat na ang mga nota,
Ngunit bakit masakit sa tenga?
Sa simula ng ika’y makita,
Nagsimula na ang tugtog.
Ngunit hindi ikaw ang aking kasayaw,
Hindi rin naiwasang mahulog.
Kahit pigilan ko man ang sarili,
Ako’y nahatak ng iyong tunog.
Magaling ka sumagaw,
Kwento mo’y ako’y napaikot.

Napapaisip ako,
Anong nangyari,
Bakit natapos,
Ang ating kanta.
Ng wala man lang paalam.
Ika’y bumula.
Nawala sa aking buhay.
Na para bang multo.
Hindi ko malapitan,
Mahawakan,
Matawag,
Ni mabanggit ang iyong pangalan.
Nawala ang ating teatro,
Nagkahiwalagan ang magkaibigan,
Ang direktor ay lumisan,
Upang maiwasan ang drama.

Napapaisip ako ngayon,
Bakit ikaw pa rin sa ngayon!
Ikaw na multo ng nakaraan,
Ang aking minamahal hanggang ngayon.