Huwebes, Setyembre 27, 2012

PETRICHOR




PETRICHOR
by Reya Bato

I tried to compose a tune
to the rhythm of falling raindrops.
Under the darkening clouds,
I penned an unhappy ballad.

The cold wind whistled through
freezing the mist on the air
As the chill lingered about
the sorrow in my hymn grew.

When the lightning flashed,
clasps of thunder crashed
accompanied by the distant rumblings,
my song turned to ranging growling.

The rain had stopped
freshness penetrated the earth
the sweet and musky scent
brought me a blissful chant.


#reb'27-09-2012

I miss the rain. :)

Martes, Hulyo 17, 2012

Hay-(Na)ku: Coffee



Hay-(Na)ku: Coffee
Reya Bato


Smell of brewed coffee
I was tempted to take sips
I rose from the dead


18-July-2012

Huwebes, Hunyo 28, 2012

Between hot and cold


Between hot and cold
Reya Bato


Between hot and cold
I’d choose the latter not
since it kills without a hurry:

First, it crawls up the feet
rattles the knees
and covers the limbs

it decks the skin with bumps
darkens the nails blue
and lightens the lips hue

then, it disarrays the brain
deadens the feeling
‘til we reach the ending.

28th June 2012

Miyerkules, Mayo 30, 2012

IDLE

IDLE
Reya Bato


thoughts are eely -
long and snakelike
they are slipping
out of mind
slithering into
the muck
they stay
there for a time
feeding on
some grime


30th May 2012
4:00 pm



Linggo, Mayo 20, 2012

Frantic

FRANTIC*

Reya Bato



Three steps to the left

Two to the right

Then a stumble

Woozy

Where are those twiggy limbs going?

Swaying from side-to-side

He is dancing in a fast frenzied rhythm. #rebato


20th May 2012


*This word is running frantically from the walls of my brain looking for escape.

Sabado, Pebrero 25, 2012

Another History

I got a chance to read again.

Holy cow! I just realize while typing this that it’s been almost four months that I haven’t read nor write anything sensible.

(*think* *think* *think* *focus*)

Returning to what I was trying to say...

I got a chance to read again: Murakami, “Norwegian Wood”. It is an account-type of narration by the protagonist, very usual way of narrating but Murakami has this style of putting bizarre things into something reasonable that the reader will not find them odd. I don’t have any intention of analyzing his novel here. I just have this sudden urge to write something (…and dream that someday it will be my own masterpiece). Haha!

The protagonist, Watanabe, wrote his story so he would keep his promise to Naoko that he will not forget her. He was 35 years old when he wrote the story which happened 20 years ago. He wrote things from his memory when what happened were starting to fade.

So I decided to write until things are still fresh and vivid. I want to write those now that I can still feel the emotions clinging to it. I think it is a waste to write when the emotions become just a hollow sound inside you.

(*type* *type* *type* *backspace*)




But the problem is when your experiences are fresh – when everything is too sharp and clear – you can never even produce a line to start your story. So it is better to keep it that way. Let the things become memories. Let the feelings die away. Let your story becomes history. Then you can write.