Compositions of Late

Please do take time reading this long-ish intro. :)

I had only started loving poetry when I had my first Poetry class where we had immersed ourselves in the reading and the discussing of the greatest poets’ works. It was at moment when I subconsciously acquired the knowledge of making out the mysteries of this kind of literature. But it was just that: reading, analyzing, and nothing more. I thought.

Although unaware, I had recently been writing some of my latest blog posts in poetry form. My co-major and friend remarked on how I had switched gear and now am migrating to poetry (which she finds beautiful HAHA, thank you), but I told her how I never really had written a poem. And she was like, “Are you kidding me?” After a moment of contemplating on her sudden mentioning of my pieces, I realized I DID find poetry the most accessible channel I could have in the literary world whenever I felt too emotional for spoken words to handle. I used to write flash fiction when I felt emotional, but I now find creating characters and a simple plot too much of a hassle especially because I no longer have all the time in the world.  Though, of course, I’ll never ever replace that dream of becoming a fictionist despite my fascination for poetry. I will be one, God-willing.

Here are two poems that I had managed to stitch together during our Org meeting a while ago. Sorry, Mayor, I was only half-listening. :3 I was just thinking about the position I am in now, how far I have reached, and how far I am yet to go, with God's grace.

North Star

Take two steps back.

Be flung towards the open.

Wings spread far across over

The green sea of ancient.

Flap, glide, and plunge.

Grow weary.

Beady eyes towards

The isle beyond Horizon.

Hear a trumpet call

Miles across your point.

Reach out farther off

East and west.

Wall-high waves crash.

Sea water sprays.

But sail forward, go North.

Follow the Star that never moves.

Firefly

Limping, she walks.

Stuttering, she talks.

Blinking, she looks,

And flickering, she shines.

Dodging, she glides.

Fluctuating, she remains.

Boldly, she tries,

Yes, flickering, she shines.

P.S.

I had started writing poetry when I was seven. The poems I had written were mainly for my parents, but when they encouraged me to compose more, I decided to keep a journal for them (along with the a capella songs I had also written). Sadly, I had lost the journal the year I decided to stop writing poems altogether as I never found myself good enough. That was the time I didn’t know I would be an English major. That was the time I thought I wanted to be an actress, a flight attendant or an astronaut. I never knew that after eight years, I’d go back to the first genre I had ever liked.