soft grumbles

I took the initiative in trying to submit a poem to Our Own Voice, a mag run by Fil-ams, I suppose. The editor, Reme-Antonia Grefalda, professional that she is, sent me a note of rejection saying that the work was not up to par. I agree. That was haphazardly done as I wanted so bad to see my name in print and in a Filipino ezine. (I don't know how pinoys would react to my works) Prior to this, I have submitted to them several works which she said are up for deliberations. So, I am not giving up hope yet. Anyway, I am glad that the ed in this magazine tell you how your work is doing. Some don't, I was told. i can jsut imagine how dreadful it is to wait in anxiety waiting whether or not your child shall bear fruit. At least, now, I can rest and work harder.

I have written another concrete poem, my third. This shows the sorrow of a would-be poet, unheard of, and probably scared witless as to when that break shall come. i don't have a title for it yet.



I
ink
poem
on paper
for nothing.
Garbled phrases,
speak to nameless,
faceless people like
talking to an empty wall.
I hope today is the day
when my words and
my name shall forever
be etched in memory
of those I try
to reach?


I
cry
me a
tear. Fall
sweat on my
brows way down
to my lips. And yet,
these are all for naught,
Yes, all for naught it seems.
Alas, when shall my pen
and my paper bleed? Let
it be now, my Lord, for
I am running out of
Air to breathe.