Surrender

You hold me
captive in your quiet
stares. Your arms
reaching out
though they are
still.

And as words
keep their silence,
I hear
your soul’s oration
and your heart’s
whispers.

I allow a tinge
of smile to
paint itself
on my lips.

The sun
is most
captivating
when in its softest
shades.

.

//Sherma E. Benosa
14 September 2008; 12:10pm

Check out my other blogs:

Bard and Brain
Bilingual Pen
Photo.Graphic Thoughts
Taeng ni Ayat

Hymn Within Me

.
There is a hymn inside my heart that begs to be sung,
Waiting for my wobbly fingers to strum
The strings of my soul’s discordant melody.

But my lips refuse to sing the notes
That would pull my soul out of the void;
For though it badly needs to hear the music
It fears the thundering boom of the drums.

So I sit around, hoping for someone to play a song
All the while knowing it’s got to be me;
I wait here, daydreaming for a concerto
All the while knowing my ears have become deaf
To the music of the life around me.

Tell me, how can I sing my heart’s tune
Without first fixing the pitch of my thoughts?
I’ve forgotten my lines, I can’t relate to the melody;
Sing to me, sing to me so that I may remember
That there is a hymn that begs to be sung within me.


//Sherma E. Benosa
18 May 2008; 5:46pm
.

Autumn in Summer

.

It’s summer; the sun’s smiling brightly

But autumn reigns inside me.
Like a tree who just lost a leaf
Inside me, there is grief.
I am a vast sky on stormy nights
Forsaken by the moon, bereft of stars.

Help me feel I am no tree
And you are not a leaf;
You are a river, and I am a creek.
From different springs, we came together
To flow side by side
But the time has come that we must travel apart.

I flow on by, as I know you would.
Have faith, let us both believe
We will entwine somewhere, someday again.
And when we each reach destiny’s ocean
Trust that we will be one water again, my friend.
Until then..

.
For my good friends, Chie, Jing, and Tayns who have left this summer: Jing to join her husband in Canada; Tayns to pursue her MA in Japan, and Chie to seek a greener pasture in Qatar. Good luck to all of you. I am deeply saddened that we must live far from each other, but you are always in my heart. Don’t forget I am just a click away. I love you.

Written at the Relaksasi Spa @ Park Square I while waiting for my turn. The music is calming, and the scent is soothing to the soul.
.

MEMORY OF YOUR KISS

Your warmth around me, your breath against my cheeks
Dreamy sighs, racing heartbeats; murmurs of sweetness
Gentle caresses, my name softly escaping your lips
My soul warms at the memory of your tender kiss.

Quiet whispers, your voice crooning to my senses
Feather-light touches brushing the softness of my hair
Your fingers delicately tracing the contours of my face
My heart flutters at the thought of your embrace.

Your body pressed to mine, your lips on my forehead
My spirit responds to the rhythm of the wilderness
I close my eyes, as I drink the breeze of your scent
My soul warms at the memory of your tender kiss.

I reach for your hands, firmly encase them in mine
And bring them to my lips as into your eyes I gaze
There, I see mirrored, my lips twitching into a smile
My heart flutters at the thought of your embrace.


For MCP…

Extended version of a poem previously posted as a 12-liner poem.

//Sherma E. Benosa
14 November 2007; 1:40am

Transient Blossoms

Evanescent blossoms I chased
And cherished like a goddess
But now that in the vicissitudes of time they’re lost
I wonder: what’s the point of all of this?

Bright dreams had become mere illusory
Shall I wallow in misery?
Transience I was too blind to see
The wheel has rolled, where will I be?

Groping in unlit alleys
Fumbling for something to hold on to
Wishing for a door to open
But will someone hand me a key?

The sun has eclipsed on me
All that’s left is a void that was once me.
I walk farther, farther down the hall
Until the shadows stop hounding me.


Inspired by a sad poem I stumbled upon this afternoon.

//Sherma E. Benosa;
November 13, 2007; 7:20pm

FOR REAL

A garden that knows no flowers
A mind devoid of thoughts —

Tell me they’re unreal;
Just some kind of a nightmare.


A pencil that refuses to write
A book that hates being read —

Tell me you’re kidding;
You’re simply pulling my leg.


A heaven that's not home for angels
A sea that harbors no fish—

Tell me they don't exist;
Just myths, some horrid tales.


A sun that shines just for me
A moon wishing for my smile —

Tell me; whisper them in my ears
But only if they’re for real.


//Sherma E. Benosa; 23 October 2007; 2:50am

The Traveler

Unpaved, the path’s long and winding
Curves abound and humps are plenty.
The trek’s arduous, the journey’s taxing
And the trail, narrow, rough and thorny.

You walk still, despite that your lane
Present you no refreshing scenery.
And your companion, a searing pain
Of your fruitless search, your misery.

Then finally you learn to listen
You start hearing your heart’s melody.
Then your eyes, you learn to open
The beauty around you, you begin to see.

You notice the compass guiding you
And the northern star lighting your way.
The open arms reaching out to you
Marking your track so you won’t stray.

Things, no longer do they seem bleak
The clouds that hovered above, now part.
The beams of light you used to seek
No longer elusive, now inside your heart.

You walk on; the journey’s not yet ended.
Beckoning, cheering you not to concede
Is destiny, waiting for you up ahead.
You take her hand; her voice you heed.


//Sherma E. Benosa;
11 September 2007; 1:26am

Dead End

I cannot pass through you
but I can make a way around you.

You deter my progress
but you cannot stop me.

You are the slow-down sign,
the check-your-way reminder
in disguise.

You are the detour arrow
That makes me try another road.

Like a hump,
you stand on my way
so that I may not go too fast.

So I step on the brakes
To re-examine my road map.

And I halt a moment
For a well-deserved rest.

You are a dead end.
But my trek does not end with you
nor am I dead because of you.

‘Coz I’ll find another way.
And I’ll walk on.


//Sherma E. Benosa
August 29, 2007; 11:45pm

The Journey

Let me re-post my poem "The Journey" which I posted here in 2005. This new version is edited (by me) last month. See which version you like better. You may find the original version by clicking this link: http://dwickedangel.blogspot.com/2005/04/journey.html



I’ve come to traipse through this wilderness
In search for answers to questions
I don’t quite comprehend;
In an attempt to understand the clues
to all the riddles I’ve come across;
So that I may find reasons to everything that happens.

I may not grasp all;
I may not understand everything.
Still I keep walking —

Singing thanks for the sunny days
and shedding tears for the wailing nights;
Riding the circus of the journey’s roller coaster;
Getting acquainted with the gruesome face
of greed, deception, and betrayal;
Tumbling every now and then;

But still, continuing with my quest —

Until this journey’s got meaning;
Until I reach the finish line;
Until I complete the mission for which I’ve come
and of which up until now I’m trying to understand;
Until the last piece of the puzzle’s in place;
Only then will this soul rest.


//Sherma E. Benosa
July 2003

THE POETIC PROCESS

Recently, I saw a blog of some guy whom I do not know (don’t even remember how I got to his blog: http://nextgr8twriter.wordpress.com/2007/06/05/the-poetic-process/), but whose writing I like. In one of his posts, he talked about poetic process, and led his readers through his way of writing poetry: from his raw thoughts, through several versions.

Because it’s just recently that I really learned to appreciate poetry, I was amazed at how one thought can be poetically said in different ways, in different poetry forms. (With my quasi-poems, I just get my thoughts onto paper and that’s it).

I cannot be as good as that guy, but I did try writing poetry his way. And here’s what I came up with:


MY ORIGINAL THOUGHT:

I fell in love
and suddenly
my dreams —
even the impossible —
came to life.

I fell in love
and suddenly
I lost the emptiness
within me.
Now, I’m alive.



MY FIRST DRAFT:

I fell in love
and finally
the moon and the sun
came face to face
in the same sky.

I fell in love
and finally,
life ceased
to be a garden
devoid of flowers.


MY SECOND DRAFT:

Love whispered
and I saw
the moon and the sun
in amorous embrace
amidst wistful clouds
on a bright red sky.

Love beckoned
And I felt something
in me bloom.
Fin’lly life ceased
to be a garden
that knows no flowers.

VERDICT: Needs more practice. Nyehehehehe

//Sherma E. Benosa
20 July 2007; 12:24am

As I Sleep

You are the night
that envelops me with peace.

Under your watchful moon
you make me feel safe.

In the company of your stars
you fill my heart with gladness.

Upon your request, the crickets
hum me a melody.

And on your order, the breeze
caresses my face.

All these, as I sleep.


//Sherma E. Benosa
13 July 2007; 3:46pm

ODES TO THE NIGHT

(i) The night, in its obscurity

The night is —

The wide canvas
upon which the moon’s mysterious smile
is painted.

The rich backdrop
against which the stars’ gleeful dancing
is performed.

Dark, he lives in obscurity.
Alone, he is nobody.

Yet,
Without him —

The moon would lose its allure;
And the stars, their grandeur.

There won’t be starlit skies
under which lovers exchange dreamy sighs!

And I’d be lost —
Wouldn’t know where to find my shooting star!



(ii) Night shift

The night —

He hears
the young mothers’ lullabies.
the insomniac’s nightly cries.
the lovers’ secret sighs.

He sees
the sleeping souls’ dreams.
the crimes every thief commits.
the owls’ flights to the wilderness.

The night —
He is busy.
Tonight.
Every night.

He, too, is on the night shift!


//Sherma E. Benosa
12 July 2007; 1:05am

Reminiscing

(The Night You Whispered my Name)

The oft-reserved night beamed
The stars batted their eyelashes
And the moon furiously blushed
The night you whispered my name.

The trees swayed to the wind's whistling
The breeze paused, anticipating
And time, how she had stood frozen
The moment you whispered my name.

//Sherma E. Benosa
04 July 2007; 1:45pm

EXCESS BAGGAGE

A letter that should not have been penned
A song that should not have been sung
A poem that should not have been read
A story that should not have been shared

A promise that should not have been given
A lesson that should not have been taken
An advice that should not have been heeded
A step that should not have been taken

A drink that should not have been drank
A word that should not have been said
A gift that should not have been wrapped
A merchandize that should not have been bought

A trigger that should not have been pulled
A sword that should not have been wielded
A prisoner that should not have been jailed
A risk that should not have been taken

Piled (not too) neatly in one of my closets
Are things that should not have been kept
Crowding my drawers, filling my pockets
It’s clean-up time once again, I guess.


//Sherma E. Benosa
2 July 2007; 2:25pm

SHORT VERSES AND LINES

Bright Night

The moon
Entertained by the stars
Prays thanks
To the night.

The night
Filled with glee
Invites everyone
To share his canvas.

The stars
Pleased with the night
Each light a candle
The sky is bright.

******

On a withered branch
The pigeon sang…
Spring’s promise.

On a withered branch
The rain dropped…
Autumn’s grief.

******

The sun was feted
Ready to leave
Summer’s gone.

The thunder roared
The clouds march
The rains come.

*****

Extinguished

Light snuffed, laughter exhausted
Mission carried out
Pieces of the puzzle now in place
Nothing more need be said.

*****

My epitaph

She held her head high in life
To death, she bowed.


//Sherma E. Benosa
30 June 2007

The Night Dreams

The night dreams in his sleep
Of fireworks twinkling
Of a lovely face beaming
A smile lingers in his lips.

The breeze caresses him
Wipes the sweat off his face
Whispers music into his ears
And farther he drifts.

Letting go of his fears
Giving away his darkness
Offering his calm, his peace.
He is not someone to fear.

Those that walk around
Using his darkness for cover
Are the traitors, the ones to blame
Oh, how they taint his name.

His honor befouled
Nothing's left to do but dream
In his vigils, in his sleep
He waits for the sun to creep in again.


//Sherma Benosa
30 June 2007; 4:07pm

Corridors and Alleys

Walk
Out of the alleys
Of shallow imaginings
Of impossible dreams and pursuits
And futile and empty quests.
Such labyrinth's not
Safe.

Tread
Along corridors
Of meaningful endeavors
Lofty undertakings and pursuits
And fundamental journeys.
Such ventures feed the
Soul.


//Also posted in VF's "Living Outside High Walls" as my challenge for him to write poems of this metering: 1-5-7-9-7-5-1.

Sunset by the Sea

Fiery shades of red
Dazzle across the canvas;
A tint of orange
Lingers in the Painter’s brush;
Hush the vast expanse.

Enchanting music
Of waves coming home to shore
Serenades the Sun
Lulling in the horizon;
Precious peace, she hums!

Breathtaking colors
Gleam in the serene waters;
A few shades of gray
Serve as the tableau’s backdrop;
What a lovely sight!

Two souls sit in awe
Enthralled by the glorious scene
Flashing above them
The masterpiece, the treasure
Of the Master’s hand.

Two hearts deeply touched
Go warm and supple and lithe
Turn to each other
Talking of love and prom’ses;
A soft vow is made

As gleaming silh’ette
Gracefully makes her entrance;
And li’l sparklers
Disperse themselves far and wide;
Night has fin’lly come.

//A poem I was able to create from pieces of verses I posted when I challenged MCP to a duel using 5-7-5-7-5 metering (an extended version of haiku. This metering we called ChaikuS)

//First posted in Kamarin ni MSB in Clifton Pascua's blog in iluko.com, April 11, 2007

Drop of Water

A single drop of water
grows into a river
that flows relentlessly
around hills and mountains
over valleys and plains
along a path
both straight and crooked
wide and narrow
in the hope that someday
she might reach the ocean
where she might attain peace
and have her rest.

But for now she’s just a river
that flows relentlessly
around hills and mountains
over valleys and plains
along a path
both straight and crooked
wide and narrow
in the hope that someday
she might reach the ocean
where she might attain peace
and have her rest
after having grown out of
a single drop of water.


Sherma E. Benosa
March 22, 2007, 10:40pm

Some quasi-poems

My sleep-obsessed creativity usually springs up to life when I am in the mood for teasing. Unfortunately, my outputs when I am in this kind of mood aren't good enough for publication. But I don't mind. I always have a good laugh creating and posting them. And that is good enough reward for me.

Let me share some of my "works."

PHOTOGRAPH

Do you feel them, Photograph
The soft caresses VF gives your cheeks
And the stares he throws your way?
And do you notice, girl
The silly expression on his face, the glitter in his eyes
Whenever he sees your smiling face?
Do tell me: Can you hear
His sighs as he recites a prayer
And whispers: “Oh darling, wish you’re here”?
Do they make you blush?
Do they make you wish you weren’t trapped
Like that... a still photograph?
Do you feel the urge to reach for his hand
And to whisper back to him
You’re wishing for the same thing?
Or do you wish that he’d throw you away
Or give you to someone else, for this place —
His desk — is not where you’d wanna stay?

Sherma E. Benosa
September 25, 2005

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

IF
'Backyard Kulding’

If you can’t sleep well at night
Without thoughts of the lady that stole your heart;
If you can’t start the day right
Without hearing her voice that’s music to your heart;
If you seem to see her face everywhere you look
And sniff her scent in every flower you pass by;
If you catch yourself a-smiling
At the thought of her naughty, naughty eyes;
If you feel bad and downhearted
Whenever you can’t get a glimpse of her smile;
If for her welfare, you are prepared to die
And in her company, you see heaven
You might be in love (finally!) my friend
But I’m not sure if that’s good news to you
What’s more: she may not feel the same way, too;
Uh-oh. Kaasi ka pay, agbaakka a baro!

Sherma E. Benosa
October 25, 2006

(My apologies to Mr. Rudyard Kipling...)

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

UNTITLED (FOR VF)

Hey VF, my favorite prey
Try not to go astray.
After all, wherever you go
My claws, they shall reach you.

My palsiit, I will use to make you ulaw
When you wake up, you’ll be so mawaw
And your head, ha ha, it’s so kawaw
Wen a, because you are agam-ammangaw!

My tali, so atiddog, it shall be the taldeng
That will keep you within my uged
Sorry but already you are nakaparnged
Get out of my clasp you can't; Oh too many lapped.

And when finally you lie down to die, VF
Pray that I'd be able to control myself
Lest before death be brought upon you
I'd make a last-minute fun of you.

Your pingping, I will kuddot
Your buok I will pungot
You ear I will kulding
Your mata, I will make bulding.

Your saka I will paddak
Your muging I will lipak
Your agong I will pitik
Your ramay I will ipit.

Your heart, I will durdor
Your flesh, I will dunor
Your tengnged I will ngurongor
Your ulo I will pang-or.

Your head, uray nabtak, I shall bring home
There in my sala it will stay alone
And to my visitors I’ll say, “oh that trophy
Is actually the ulo of my enemy.”

Then amidst their applause I, the victorious amazona,
My right hand, in victory, I shall itanggaya!
And together we shall pray that your karurua
Will go koma to that place a nakaikarianna.

Sherma E. Benosa
May 23, 2006

All these were first posted in Clifton Pascua’s blog in www.iluko.com