Showing posts with label patriotism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label patriotism. Show all posts

Thursday, January 6, 2011

FIRST TYPHOON


Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


Rains fell ceaselessly the day
Before it arrived. Almost without
Warning its gusty winds slammed
Upon my apartment studio like huge
Tennis racket walloping windows
Walls, streets, trees and all.

‘Tis my first taste
Of mighty Typhon’s wrath
Here where it passeth: my new home
Walloping winds before night fall
Gone before breakfast time.

Electricity and water a-non
Pathetic state I was consigned to.
I could have invited majestic Typhon
To an engaging coffee chat
Over coffee, egg and toasts.

[Philippines, 13 July 2012]

[See: IKONOKLAST: http://erleargonza.blogspot.com,
UNLADTAU: http://unladtau.wordpress.com,
COSMICBUHAY: http://cosmicbuhay.blogspot.com,
BRIGHTWORLD: http://erlefraynebrightworld.wordpress.com, ARTBLOG: http://erleargonza.wordpress.com,
ARGONZAPOEM: http://argonzapoem.blogspot.com]

Friday, July 30, 2010

LET ME MEET YOU O! MOTHERLAND!

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago



Let me O! Motherland meet you
With warm embrace and sweet solace
On wind and air above you.

I now have grown more than the bud
That I was then some dozens of summers past
Now am I prepared for tougher tasks
As all the carabaos are in your sturdy breast.

Accept my offerings—my brain and brawn
To plowshare for your scions’ nourishment
And lift them up from want and hunger done
By sickening evils wrought by lords of wrath.

Let me with your children sumptuously dine
I have no more than heartfelt words to give
So hopefully this might their souls satiate
So they’d regain states o’ sobriety and power.

Let me O! Motherland! Meet you again
Beneath your oceans, seas and lakes
Benign these blankets are to me so real
In them I’m freshened always as a babe.

Wake me up from slumber o! Motherland!
Let me rise up forever from this boorish state
I’d rise the more to bequeath my love
To your scions with whom I am betrothed
For they make sanguine giants out of ants
Gold are they beyond all spellbound words.

Let me reach out to your scions all, o! Motherland!
Arise shall my voice be so redeeming
To herald what dear Destiny had covenanted
‘Bout greatness that resides in all of them
Let them feel your Bosom thru this voice
That rise shall they therefore the quickest
‘Twards magnificence their wondrous wherefore
O’ this swearword let me not just rescind
To rest in nasty bowels o’ Oblivion
Far off your scions shall arise above the hovels
They’d lighten up your sky as rays they are
Of suns and suns from all yon galaxies
O! Motherland you’re lightened for all times!

Let me go forth in fights o! Motherland
To citadels of wealth and luster of crafts
Learn more from them I’d frame commission
Embankments of mind enriched for your accrual
For you alone, yes you alone o! Motherland!
I bade you not in sadness no not this
But in cheered one sweetened by your flowers
Return shall I, I swear, I dutifully swear
‘Tis heard aboard the melodious winds above you
To be a part of your triumphant enshrinement
In all the world’s magnificent halls of Light.


[Writ. 09 March 92, University of the Philippines Manila]

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

THE GREAT RETURN

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


That which was
Lost may not be lost
‘tis but slumbering in its bed
Beneath its epithelial chambers.

Soon shall it wake up
To conquer its sleeping state.
Soon shall it triumphantly march
To possess the majestic estate bequeathed to it.
Soonest that it triumphs its tremolo of voice
As herald of its presence in the here-and-now

It has come again.

Nay, it shall stay.


[Writ. 15 Feb. 1992, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

Sunday, July 18, 2010

THE PROMISE

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


I

Rise up, Man! Rise up!
Your commonwealth’s history had been astride
The cosmic pendulum that had darted
From yon up. Pendulum has reached dead center
And again is rising beyond the dale of time.
The center was lodged betwixt camel and palm tree.

Reckon, reckon that the East calls
‘Twain the valley of time expectant.
Respond shall the camel benignly
And twill change hands with the carabao.

Snail paced is this beast the carabao
And so is your ascent, o! Man!
To the pinnacle of your godly, godly zen.
You shall be god, your being’s made
By you a living clay molded
Millions of times by your own hands.

II

Man! The Light has come forth
In dazzling photons it fused with seawaves
And fluvial ripples. Gracefully had
It landed, guided by a dozen eagles.

Shine brightly shall the Light
Sky beacon that illuminates eagerness
The clear landscape of the Promise.
The Promise has been slumbering in a bed
Of coal and gold: ‘tis coal and gold.

The Light shall burn the coal
To be fed into the waiting furnace
Where the gold shall be molded into one
Magnificent icon as tall as the azure sky.
‘Tis the longed for icon that shall herald
The historic swing to grandeur’s height.

III

Wherefore lies the heart of grandeur?
Wert this not but a dead man’s wish
Long buried in the hovels of the earth?
Wert this not but a sweetened piece
Of bitter gourd: its stinging taste betrays
Its endless senselessness in the world sensical?

Man! This height of grandeur is the state
Indescribable to the wisest among grandfathers
A million generations stretch: ‘tis a million
Times a million times of pure majestic luster
Only but Inner Selves can comprehend.

‘tis the founded form-being of all
Sublime inner selves that have been struggling
In putrescent marshes of history.
This to the grandfathers is mere dream
Induced by the spirit elixirs of Bacchus.

IV

Rise! Rise it shall
High above the hills and valleys
‘Twards the azure firmaments
This majestic commonwealth of yours, o! Man!
For which freedom-in-life is
A concluded spell of benevolent magis.
Reside shall its spirit in people’s bosoms.

Gone shall be the seismic struggles
Alone for bread as if this were the most
Valued diadem atop the zenith of greatness:
The world shall be its own bread
And man, the luminary figure at last
Whose coming was pronounced before
By a trillion bards of eagles and doves.

Rise! Rise it shal
From where corals had made lands
Where sturdy races have eked out living
And slave they were for others;
No more are they slaves but are free cranes
Atop carabaos their benign carriers.

V

What is reality after all o! Man!
For which you have buried yourself
Millions of times in search for its enigmas?
Is it like spiral moving poles a-clashing?
Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe
‘Tis a swarm of flies that swats
Made festive killings by the dozens
And yet aren’t flies but gems.

When upon each gem Light gently touches
It brings forth radiance to all
Corners of the cosmos: it makes bounds
Anon betwixt its grounded state
And the unbrimmed infinite extent
Apast spaces: ‘tis unbrimmed space
And yet spaceless brims.

VI

Man! A promise made a million times
And delivered a million times makes a million
More than its primeval state: ‘ts a grain
Of sand and the universe made one.
The sea has recognized this secret lore
And had sung it lyrically in melodious tunes
That no one cared to listen to

Save for man-slaves on a dozen mountains.
Mushroom-eaters they are who’d sensed
What the real is: the Promise realized overboard
Its primordial state—a giant that wakes up
From zillions of earth revolutions or slumber:
‘Ti a Being stronger than ever that turns rivers
Into founts of gold, cause for merriment
Atop the nature-world the bed of bread.

VII

Happy, o! happy will be
The suns and stars and moons
And winds and waves

Over your final dawning, o! Man!
Even as the day starts on the sixth hour.

Man! You are the sixth estate:
Risen and made one, freed at last
From tsunamis of disintegrating forces.

Behold! No more forlorn are nature and cosmos
The citadels of true life.
And you, Man, finally regained, revived,
Realized as your guardian and maker.


[Writ. 22 July 1991, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

PINATUBO MOUNT OF TRIUMPH

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

Petrified is our inglorious state as people
Crystallized, our hopelessness and shame
We are but loathsome slaves on Planet Earth
Unfit as subject of a stately epic.

A nation of sleepwalkers we are, unblessed
An utterly coveted and sick people of Asia
Wantonly plundered by gluttonous alien Titans
And so too by local lords of similar mold.

Need we rise up from the mortified doldrums
To get back to the folds of Rizal’s grand era
To regain the trust in self built by Bonifacio
To foster again the sublimest nationhood.

Come forth, Pinatubo!
Thunder our valleys and hills
With your majestic voice
On the day of our national freedom!
You are the longed for herald of Apocalypse
Of our dim and stinking state.
Burn down the Sodoms and Gomorrahs of ours!
Demonic icons of imperial lust.
Bury the putrid old world with pyroclastics!
We shall regale the burial with wondrous dirges.

Why ought we wish you with infinite praises?
Why not indeed when you sprinkled vast lands
With ashes: mark of holiness a la Ash Wednesday?
O! majestic mount! You’ve heralded
Soon shall arise a glorious nation in our midst.
The holocaustal tapestry you’ve evoked
‘Tis but the birth pangs of greatness.
This nation, a Sun that others seek for Light
Undying—of justices, wisdom, compassion.

Hail! Sacred Pinatubo Mount of Triumph!


[Writ. 21 June 91, Cubao,Quezon City, M.Manila]

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

JUSTICE

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


Everyday is a mortal tablet
upon which is inscribed the expectation
of all
that kings and princes
must exude
wisdom and justice

But justice is facilely broken off
It is a cheap jar bought from
an obscure bazaar
on planet Earth
broken
by kings and princes

[Writ. 04 June 1991, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

Saturday, May 29, 2010

WHY MOTHERLAND?

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


Why ought we call Motherland
The cradle of us loyal citizens?
Why not just call it Land
For the sake of propriety and brevity?
Likewise we shan’t label Fatherland
Each lustrous land of alien conquerors
Who enslaved our forbears in servitude
Over epochs of lamentable tribulations.

A Mother is she who never dares forsake
Her children whom she lovingly nourishes.
And yet all children grow to bid farewell
To the hardships of infantile life
And so to bid farewell as well
To the Mother who soon faces retirement.

Habits of old are hard to die
Like thoughts on Motherland or Fatherland
Even as we’re not overgrown infants
Of a country that professes eternal Motherhood
And neither could we all say farewell
To our benign Land: our Provider.


[Writ. 06 October 1988, Proj. 8, Quezon City, M.Manila]