Firstly, I wish I had a crash course in theatre arts so I would know the trick in shifting emotions in a snap. Effortlessly, so they say. Or at least if I had, it wouldn’t be hard for you to believe that I just did without me having to plead so you will be convinced.

Secondly, don’t laugh. I’ve been writing poetry all this time. I know you’re thinking I just got a pocketful of jokes and silly anecdotes so why in the world I let myself to be consumed with verses?

Thirdly, is it strange to be funny and serious at the same time? Wala lang. I just want to know how you will establish ‘credibility’ given that contrast.

Whatever.

I am a late-bloomer in poetry writing as I started only in college unlike those writers I know who published their works even before they reached their 20s. But I remember I had my first taste of poetry with my father when he used to send his tape-recorded poems to my mother when he’s still working in the Middle East. That was when snail mail’s still popular and PLDT had to grind its pile of telephone applications backlog. Honestly, I never appreciated it. I didn’t like it. Talagang Tagalog – may indayog, may sukat at tugma.

 
Call it a karmic world , now I can’t live without poetry. I’m too engrossed in it. In fact I have written a number of poems although I know half of it, if not all, would rather wish to be freed and walk their way toward the shredding machine. (Hahaha!)

After attending some poetry workshops and reading mostly Filipino poets, there was a point that I wish I didn’t write at the very start. Although I did not receive a Simon Cowell kind of comment during the Iyas National Writers Workshop, I must accept the fact that I need  a lot more time to learn. I mean my poems are not yet ripe for picking, just like  beads without string.

But did I mature? I still don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.

These are my poems. You are my muse.