"keating" poems
“I am not a teacher, but an awakener.”
― Robert Frost
May mga walang alam na nagpapanggap na may alam. Mga nagmamarunong na akala mo ay mga pantas pero ang totoo ay masahol pa sa tunay na mga mangmang. May mga nagsusulat pero hindi marunong magmulat, kahit bulatlatin mo ang kanilang mga aklat na hindi magluluwat wala kang mapupulot, wala itong alamat kundi puro lamat. Ganito sila ‘pag iyong sinalat walang k’wentang bumanat.
Ang mga panaginip ng isang paslit ay laging naghahanap ng katuparan tulad ito sa isang malawak na paliparan na ang mga tapakan ay tila walang hangganan. Ang banggaan ng mga saranggola guryon man o boka-boka ay sumasagisag sa sigla ng kamusmusan. Walang bobo, walang tanga at walang mahina ang totoo para-paraan lang para matuto ‘yan ang hindi alam ng mga ungas na nagtuturo.
Natatandaan ko madalas na pinapatayo ako sa harap ng pisara kasi maingay daw ako at malikot. Madalas din akong mapalo kasi mahina ang ulo ko pagdating sa Matematika. Bakit ano’ng kadakilaan ba ang meron sa pananahimik at kelan pa naging pang-aliw sa puso at kaluluwa ang mga numero? Walang lumiligaya sa pagmememorya at hindi nakaka-ulol ang pagiging malikot at maligaya.
**** ka ba talaga? Parang hindi naman, mas mukha kang tinderang tuliro na abala lagi sa pagbebenta ng yema, kendi at kung ano-anong sitsiriya. **** pangalawang magulang? Kaya pala mas mabagsik kapa sa tatay kong maton at mas masungit kapa sa nanay ko. Nagtuturo ka ba’ng talaga? Hindi naman, mas mahaba pa nga ang oras mo sa pakikipaghuntahan.
Ang **** ay hindi lamang dapat na nagtuturo s’ya ay tagapagmulat din. Isang John Keating (teacher sa pelikulang Dead Poet Society) ang kailangan ng mga bata sa mundo. Nagmumulat hindi nagmamalupit, hindi kailangan na manghagupit at walang dapat na ipilit. Ang eskwelahan ay hindi pugad ng mga pipit. Matalino, magaling at matalas mag-isip ayos lang yan. Subalit punong-puno na ang mundo ng mga matatalinong walang pakinabang.
Ang umibig at maging tunay na kapakipakinabang sa mundo at sa kapwa tao, ito ang dakilang aral na dapat na ipangaral. Walang silbi ang mga pagpapagal sa loob ng paaralan kung ang natutuhan mo lang ay kung paano kumita ng limpak-limpak na salapi. Kung ang alam mo lang sabihin ay Yes Sir at Yes Ma’am walang silbi ang iyong pinag-aralan. Nakakalat na sa lupa ang mga pipi na hindi marunong magsalita at magpahayag nang kanilang tunay na saloobin. **** na nagtuturo maliban sa hintuturo at nguso sana gamitin mo rin ang iyong puso.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
I wake and the light of this fine day edges round the curtain.
The birds have chorused and my left foot lies cold outside the sheets.
Standing in my nightgown I draw the curtains and look out at my garden.
Let me pad downstairs, open the front door and walk brief steps
to the arbour of ferns and shells. From a cane chair
I shall view my private corner with its tiny pool and privet hedge:
whilst there is still a little dew; whilst the cobwebs still glisten;
whilst there is no wind, just a grumble of the surf at Porth Neigwl,
the sound my father makes dozing over his paper.
Miniature, enclosed, protected I will place my thoughts
in this dolls’ house garden, amongst the dank, dark shadows
of its many rooms, its parterred spaces.
You don’t walk in this garden; you take a step . . .
and you are elsewhere. Take three steps and you are quite lost.
I hear the kitchen door bang in the manor house,
Meriel is taking breakfast to my sisters.
I think I shall stay here a moment longer.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." - John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)
*As a child I loved you Mork, as an adult you taught me the fine line between laughter and despair.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 8:33 AM UTC
Caaaarpe
…
caaarpe
...
Caarpe Diem
Keating whispered
He whispered.
in Delay there lies no plenty
Shakespeare warned,
gather ye rosebuds while ye may
Herrick advised.
We don’t
whisper, warn or advise
Generation Y
PROCLAIMS!
We shout, strong, sure and proud
YOLO
We chant, graffiti, hastag
YOLO
We get
*one shot one opportunity
to seize everything in we ever wanted in one moment*
**** the romantics,.
The critics, the experts, the analyzers too.
YOLO
Who says we can’t be prophetic,
Philosophical,
Beautiful?
This is us,
Our time
our chance,
so
let’s make the most of the night like we’re gunna die young.
It is our excuse.
The reason I hit the gas
rev the engine and slam it to the floor.
With squealing tires,
loud exhausts and smoky exits
You can hear me
we are young so lets set the world on fire we can burn brighter than the sun.
We need to do this now,
before the light in our eyes,
light of our lives,
go out.
YOLO
The reason we face mountains
of debt with a smile.
The face we put on
brave, ready, awake
when the bill collectors call,
the healthcare goes into reform
and the government shuts down.
YOLO
This moment, we own it
this second in a catalogue
of years.
The months we spend crashing cars, bars and acting like stars.
YOLO
The reason we apply for jobs,
we’ll never get.
Taking rejection with a grin
we will always try again.
YOLO
it is the reason I joined the race.
After all,
You.
Only.
Live.
Once.
-Kayla Morrison
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:25 PM UTC
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”
— John Keating, Dead Poets Society
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 9:12 PM UTC
I’m not much of a poet.
I’m not much of a poet because
Whenever I speak my words, they come tumbling out
Like some amateur circus
I’m not much of a poet because
When I write, it all sounds better in my head.
And I’m not much of a poet because
When I see a rose, that’s all I see
A simple little flower.
I don’t get inspired.
But when I look at you,
When I look at you I see so much more than just a girl.
You inspire me.
I’m not much of a poet but
When I think of you the words they come rushing out
I cannot keep them from escaping my fingertips and
Keating said language was meant to woo
And I don’t know if that’s a lie but
One thing I know is true
Lately, it seems all my language is for you.
When we’re together, I see everything anew, and
I guess that’s just to say
You’ve changed my worldview.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
Todd feels a toad
Ugly and warty and full of slime
Potential lacking everywhere
Cannot see his own beauty until forced
Yet then, he becomes the
First to stand
First to call out
First to cry,
"O Captain! My Captain!"
Throwing aside his
Gag and shackles
Stepping up and
Taking, the leap of faith.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:22 PM UTC