Monday, September 29, 2008

Authorized Personnel Only


Inspired by Uncle Badong, on the occasion of his retirement

 

 

For some people, retirement from a job is not a welcome change. Others who hardly plan their retirement at all are even prone to deteriorate because they might not be prepared for the day when they will have virtually nothing to do anymore.

 

People should be encouraged to remain in paid employment for as long as they want. For one, an employee can be efficient if he is driven to do something. If he still wants to work regardless of his age, the company can always bank on his efficiency because more often than not, he or she will deliver the tasks expected of them—or even go beyond it.

 

Second, employees who have reached a certain length of experience in their work most probably have acquired a distinct level of expertise as well, one that is needed in a company or organization in its fulfillment of successful operations. So instead of taking time to invest in training newcomers who will (have to) learn the needed skills, the company can always entrust its vital tasks to the veteran. The case can be compared to that of wine wherein the older the wine is stored in the barrel, the more suave its taste becomes—hence, the better quality and satisfaction.

 

 

 

 

 

Retiring from government service at 60 this year,
Uncle Badong is pictured here in his usual afternoon outfit
in our ancestral libod, perhaps after having swept the yard

of his house and finished the luon which drives away

the noknok and other pestering nocturnal insects,

along with a horde of evil spirits around the yard.

Some 20 meters away from this house is his MARO office,
the workplace where he had helped countless farmers

to properly claim their land titles, and perhaps even

saved a number of them from the paraanab [landgrabbers]

of all kinds. His has been the kind of work, or more aptly,

a sense of commitment that not just any CSSAC graduate

can read into in order to fully deliver.

 


If people are allowed to work for as long as they want, which would mean that the personnel will be filled by seasoned workers and staff, the company is sure to face challenges in the future headstrong. Its seasoned personnel and human resource will inspire everyone else with the wisdom they (must have) gained from the many years of exposure to the kind of work in the organization.

 

Indeed, if people are employed in a company so that they serve it in the best sense of the word and, in essence, help build it, keeping them for as much as they want can benefit the organization, enough to sustain itself through the years.

 

 

 

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Grade I - Camia , School Year 1982–1983

Grade I-Camia

School Year 1982-1983

 

Bagacay Elementary School

Bagacay, Tinambac

Camarines Sur

 

Mrs. Thelma Cornelio

Adviser

 




First Row (seated from left)
Jorge Torres (cut from the picture), Darwin Torrazo, Alfredo Cortez,
Oscar Solano, Laureano Begino, Ronnel Luzada, Jonathan Cristal, Rey Teope,  Niño Manaog

Second Row (seated from left)
Romeo Caceres, Jonel Dazal, Ronnel Garcia, Ramon Solano, Edgar Bayola, Andres Olalia

Third Row (standing from left)
Joy Begino, Marilyn Solano, Lolita de la Rosa, Mrs. Thelma Cornelio [seated, center], Ma. Salvacion Mendoza, Raquel Celeste, Monina Tacorda

Fourth Row (standing from left)
Marissa Orillosa, Susana Judavar, Eleanor Base, Realy Tuy, Divina Abiog, Dina Nacional, Rosemarie Abragan, Josephine Pilapil, Myla Dazal, Richelle Azur, Maribel Corpuz


Friday, September 05, 2008

Poetry, Criticism and the World According to Matthew Arnold

L

ionel Trilling, a 20th-century American critic, must have considered Matthew Arnold the founding father of modern criticism in the English speaking world, because of the consistently moralistic if not messianic tenets he espoused on poetry, its criticism and society.

 

Having lived in a time of social unrest in English society, Arnold saw a need to heighten among the English “the impulse to the development of the whole man, to connecting and harmonizing all parts of him, perfecting all, leaving none to take their chance.

Ushering in the New Humanism in his era, Arnold poses these questions—Who shall inherit England? What kinds of power could they be trusted with? What forms of education should they receive? Arnold says that answers can be found in many literary sources, some of the distant past, others close to his own era.

Treating writing and reading of literature as urgent activities in the world, Arnold says that poetry at bottom is “a criticism of life—the greatness of the poet lies in the powerful and beautiful application of ideas to life—to the question—how to live.”

He highly esteems poetry, believing it is the enlightened activity of the mind/culture. Having wide range, covering diverse subject matter, it communicates in a formative and effective way through offering what is itself a living experience, not through abstract analysis and description.

On the value of poets and their works, Arnold considers such noble and profound application of ideas to life the most essential part of poetic greatness.

Further on, to Arnold, poetry is nothing less than the most perfect speech of man. It is the use of language in the most effective, reaching and suggestively adequate way possible. Also, poetry emerges when man comes nearest to being able to utter the truth—that is by way of verbal expression.

In Preface to Wordsworth Poems, Arnold says the question how to live is itself a moral idea. And it is the question which is most interests every man, and with which, in some way or other, he is perpetually occupied. A large sense of course is to be given to the term moral. Whatever bears upon the question how to live comes under it.

The greatness of English poetry at its best resides in the vigorous imaginative power with which it has related moral ideas to concrete life.

Here, Arnold parallels Sidney on didacticism. He claims that appreciative reading of the best literature achieves for us moral betterment and spiritual renewal.

When Arnold says, “Aspirants to perfection and foes to fanaticism and zealotry, critics are the best persons—poised, balanced, and reflective…” he echoes Sidney who claims that the final end of learning is “to lead and draw us to as high a perfection as our degenerate souls, made worse by their clayey longings, can be capable of.”


Involved and having witnessed to the current state of the English society, Arnold’s privilege and position allowed him to critique criticism in the most incisive unyielding if not austere way.

He declared that criticism is the “disinterested endeavour to learn and propagate the best that is known and thought in the world.”

Arnold pushed that poetry must be evaluated according to man’s  most basic concern—the active attainment of culture in the broadest sense, and the total and integrated perfecting of himself and his potentialities as an aware, responsive and active creature.

“We ought to have contact with the essential nature of these objects so that we are no longer bewildered and oppressed by them—but by assimilating into our habitual feelings rather become more in harmony with them—this feeling calms and satisfies as no other can—through magic of style in the poem, in the best literature.”

The steadfastness of Arnold’s tall orders so as to consider literature a religion itself has perhaps disinterested many cynical critics and theorists alike.

His ideals of literature and cultural humanism—reflected in his credo—have preoccupied radical and contemporary critics. Stanley Fish, working in the vein of reception theory, would deny the possibility of disinterestedness or objectivity. Modern Marxist critic Terry Eagleton would emphasize Arnold’s alignment with the state power and the privileged class in his stress on timeless truths. They would also run counter to those of modern cultural theorists like Antonio Gramsci, Edward Said and Stuart Hall. While Arnold sees culture as selective and harmonious, not conflictual, modern cultural theorists consider culture as the distinctive whole way of life characterized as an instrument of social and political control and/or conquest.

Nevertheless, for Arnold, criticism and culture “loom large—they benefit the individual, they impel sustained acts of reflection; and prevent persons from falling into complacency and self-satisfaction.”

 

Wordsworth vs. Coleridge

A Romantic Face-off

 

      Coleridge          wordsworth

 

 

 

 

Wordsworth

Coleridge

Preface to Lyrical Ballads, 1802

Biographia Literaria. 1817

Common or rustic scenes would be understandable to all readers.

Nature and scenes of common life close to nature were fitting subjects of poetry

Since rustic life had a closeness with nature, images from rustic life would be well suited for illustrating nature’s fundamental substance—

“Low and rustic life was generally chosen…because in that condition of life our elementary feelings coexist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated” (1343).

Good poetry could not be wholly written in natural, everyday language. Since the goal of poetry was to strongly affect the emotions of the reader, a poet had to use words more artfully than an everyday person would, and therefore poetic language could never be identical to common language.

Along with his use of common scenes in poetry, Wordsworth preferred to use common language in his verses. The language of common or rural people was by necessity well suited to portraying nature in poetry. Since common people had regular firsthand interaction with nature, and since nature played such an important role in their lives, their language is constructed to convey the emotions associated with nature.

“The language, too, of these men is adopted ... because such men hourly communicate with the best objects from which the best part of language is originally derived” (1343).

Common language was not the best language for poetry, and that the best parts of language resulted from educated reflection rather than a familiarity with simple and natural things.

The best part of human language, properly so called, is derived from reflection on the acts of the mind itself” (1548).

The goal of poetry was to influence the emotions of the reader.

Feeling is as much an integral part of consciousness as reason, and that feeling, not reason, is the dominant language of the soul.

By distilling an emotion into verse and creating an impression of that feeling in the reader, a poet was communicating with the reader’s soul rather than just his or her rational mind.

There is no true common language, but that language varies from person to person, even within classes. The universal concepts of language, however, were common to all classes and not exclusive to the lower and rural classes.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Neoclassical Criticism


A

lexander Pope’s Essay on Criticism is a masterpiece of novelty in terms of form and compactness that sums up the neoclassical sentiment on literary theory and criticism. Perhaps prodigious because it was written when he was only 20 years old, Pope’s work contains an epigram by Horace with traces of Quintilian, Boileau and Dryden—which is rather memorable for its brilliant style. Written in heroic couplets, the work revitalizes familiar teachings and makes them sparkle.

Modern American critic Walter Bate, in an effort to render a topical outline of Pope’s poetics —sums up the Essay under three major topics, which is “by no means intended to attribute an argumentative or reasoned order to the poem.”

The first part compares poets and critics—and comes with pieces of advice for critics— as the general qualities needed by the critic can be found in the first one hundred couplets. After presenting knowledge of nature in its general forms—defining nature which needs of both wit and judgment to conceive it, Pope famously declares—

 

Learn hence for Ancient Rules a just Esteem;

To copy Nature is to copy Them.

 

“Classic texts, like Nature are a standard and guide. Their balance, harmony and good proportion are evident in their parts as well as demonstrated in the whole. In other words, Wit is Nature—for it instances something that we have all thought but whose sheer truth the poet now makes compelling through his language:”


True Wit is Nature to Advantage drest,

What oft was Thought, but ne’er so well exprest,

Something whose truth convinces at Sight we find

That gives us back the Image of our Mind. (297–300)

 

In itself a compendium of critical principles—or a sophisticated, witty poem with much reading and reflection in it, Essay on Criticism showcases Pope’s own view of literary borrowing—thus: Poets, like merchants should repay with something of their own what they take from others, not, like pirates, make prizes of all they meet.”

 The neoclassicist creed, according to Pope, therefore is to imitate the ancient authors and to adopt the critical precepts that these authors and their texts embody. Two directions are afforded by this concept of imitation. First is the more self-conscious and restricted side based on authority and passed models that leads to the writing of imitations. Art's first requirement is its direct appeal to reason or pasion.

Second has to do with the broader side thar reejects them by placing truth to general nature. The more universal and far-reaching the truth desired or conveyed by art, the closer art comes to fulfilling its primary aim. And as interpreter of Nature, then, the poet must divest himself of the prejudices of his age and country, in order to grasp and disclose general truths, which will always be the same.

 This is followed by the practical laws for the critic in the second part. This includes, for instance, the critic’s prerogative to seek the author’s aim and the critic’s fallibility in mistaking the part of a literary for the whole. Pope tirades critics who do not only come up with partial readings, but also those who are proud and arrogant.

 The third part—essayed out from lines 560 to the end of the concerns with the ideal character of the critic. Perhaps echoing the moral uprightness advanced by the Roman Horace, Pope deems it proper for the critic to have the qualities of integrity, modesty, tact and even courage. This calls for the concern for the critic to be morally liable—which translates that the critic can be the ordinary man—whose uplift is chief concern.




Renaissance Criticism

Following medieval criticism characterized by spiritual- or allegorical-centered interpretations of literary works—most notably the Sacred Scriptures—Renaissance criticism would return to the Aristotelian and Platonic tenets on art as imitation, with a number of improvements and expansions to accommodate the critical controversies of the period.

With his Apology for Poetry (1595), perhaps a response to the “Schoole of Abuse” by Stephen Gosson, considered a “Puritan attack on imaginative literature,” English nobleman Sir Philip Sidney comes in defense of poetry, earning for him as the quintessential Renaissance sensibility in literary criticism.

A classical oration with the seven standard parts—the Apology set out to accomplish three tasks.


I.

First, it was written in defense of poetry and its superiority over history and philosophy. Sidney considered poetry to aid toward the “purifying of wit, the enriching of memory, the enabling of judgment and the engaging of conceit.”

For Sidney, poetry has noble roots and serves a noble purpose. Sidney argued that poetry may be found at all times in all cultures, surveying that the famous classical figures from philosophers to historians relied on poetic techniques in writing their works. Sidney considers the prophetic and creative functions of the poet and of poetry, famously declaring that the poet improves upon nature, thus—”Her world is brazen, the poets only deliver a golden.”

Sidney improves on Aristotle in defining poetry as an “art of imitation,” sorting them into three kinds—poetry which imitates “the inconceivable excellencies of God”; poetry which deals with moral philosophy, natural philosophy, astronomical philosophy, or historical philosophy; and those works of “right poets” who “imitate to teach and delight.”

Such definition sets an agenda for the discussion of poetry—allowing for an outpouring of insights into the critical controversies of the period.

Also defending comic poetry, Sidney says that it holds vices up to such ridicule that no one would want to be like the ridiculous, vice-ridden characters portrayed therein. He furthers by saying that much of the Bible is even written in poetic form. For instance, Nathan recalls David (and the reader) to virtue by telling a story. Or Christ teaches by means of parables which “inhabit both the memory and judgment.”

Since the [final] end of [all earthly] learning is virtuous action, Sidney considers poetry better equipped to teach right behavior than either philosophy or history:

For whatsoever the philosopher says should be done, the poet gives a perfect picture of it in someone by whom he presupposes it was done; so as he couples the general notion with the particular example.

While combining the moral precepts of philosophy with the entertaining examples of history, the poetic pursuit cloaks “its lessons with the pleasurable devices of art, rendering it more effective than the first two disciplines.


II.

Second, Sidney’s Apology deals with specific objections raised against poetry. Below are the point-by-point responses of Sidney to the previous attacks charged against poetry since the classical antiquity.

As regards poetry is a waste of time; Sidney counters by asking how can poetry be a waste of time if learning leads to virtue and poetry is the best way to learning? For him, poetry has been the first educator of primitive peoples, which lead them to a more civilized state and a more sensitive receptivity to knowledge of every sort.

Next, against the objection that poetry is the “mother of lies”, Sidney famously declares: “for the poet, he nothing affirms, and therefore never lieth.” Placing poetry outside of the realm of truth and falsehood, Sidney contends that the poet never claims that he is presenting absolute truth in the first place—thus the accusation of falsehood leveled at poetry is merely irrelevant.

As to the claim that poetry is the “nurse of abuse, infecting us with many pestilent desires,” Sidney considers the abuse of any art should not condemn that art—”poetry is not to blame for the abuses committed against it by bad poets.”

Then, essentially, when we realize that poetry was banished from Plato’s imaginary republic—so it must be dangerous—Sidney clarifies that Plato did banish “the abuse, but not the thing. Therefore, by being in a way threatened by its power, Plato rather honored poetry.

 
III.

The third task set forth in the Apology examines the current state of English literature. more of a broad survey of English literature and rather not a comprehensive blow-by-blow revaluation of works of the time, Apology offers some critical comments on diction, poetic figures, meter, rhythm, rhyme and the English vernacular to other languages.

Significantly, Sidney’s censure of the English drama which failed to adhere to the [overemphasized if not misread] Aristotelian unities of time and place— will further later preoccupy the neoclassical critics of drama, most notably the French Pierre Corneille and the Englishman Samuel Johnson.


On the whole, Sidney’s defense of poesy/poetry—it is said he treats poetry both as having feminine and masculine attributes with reference to both gender qualifiers his and her used in the tract itself—has rendered a number of influences. First it imposed stricter interpretation of the moral function of art. Put more simply, we are said to s see virtue exalted, and vice punished. Second, the rigid distinction of genres allowed for the classification of the types of literature which will be constantly considered by the generations of critics following. And finally, Sidney’s adherence and use of his forerunners as cornerstones of his own critical insights acknowledges the pervasive self-conscious awareness of authority and tradition, an issue to be taken seriously by Matthew Arnold and T.S. Eliot in the centuries following.


Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Medieval Criticism

L

iterary criticism would not disappear in the Middle Ages. The classical tradition would survive the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, and most of the great Latin authors will remain a part of the cultural tradition of Europe.

 

The Greek authors, however, will survive only through Latin versions and imitations of their works. For one, Homer’s works would be unknown during the Middle Ages and Aristotle’s Poetics will reach the West perhaps only through mangled versions and derivations.

 

Yet, some key concepts of classical poetics would be preserved. This would include the Plato’s and Aristotle’s conception of art as imitation and the classification into three basic genres, and the concept of decorum (from Roman admirer Horace).

 



Statue of Dante in the Piazza

di Santa Croce,  Florence


The medieval tradition of literary criticism is one of textual commentary of the classics, mostly the Bible and theological writings—which would direct its attention not to the way “works should be, but to the way they are.” The critical tendency would be towards works which are already written and those having religious or moral significance.

 

Though characterized by a reliance on authority and revelation evident in the emphasis on the study and interpretation of the Sacred Scriptures, medieval criticism would later see the displacement of critical methods “from the sacred to the secular.” Through his number of works in the vernacular Italian and Latin, Italian poet Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) would stand out in the map of theory and criticism to articulate the humanist thought developed in the wake of the twelfth-century Renaissance.

 

In his “Letter to Can Grande Della Scala,” an introduction to the “Paradiso” from his La Commedia (Comedy), Dante establishes a classification of the elements to be considered in a literary work. Drawn from the Scholastic models of literary prologue, Dante sounds very much like Aristotle:

 

There are six things then which must be inquired into at the beginning of any work of instruction; to wit, the subject, agent, form, and end, the title of the work, and the branch of philosophy it concerns.

 

Applying to Comedy the approaches of medieval interpretation, Dante famously writes:

 

The sense of this work is not simple, but on the contrary it may be called polysemous, that is to say, ‘of more senses than one’, for it is one sense which we get through the letter, and another which we get through the thing the letter signifies, and the first is called literal, but the second allegorical or mystic.

 

Dante posits that writings can be understood and are meant to be expounded chiefly in four senses—namely: the literal, which does not “go beyond the strict limits of the letter”; allegorical, which Dante calls “a truth hidden under a beautiful fiction”; moral, that for which “teachers ought as they go through writings intently to watch for their own profit and that of their hearers”; and anagogic, or above the senses. The last sense connotes that when a piece of writing is expanded, it ought to “give intimation of higher matters belonging to eternal glory.”

 

In Il Convivio (The Banquet), Dante says that the surface level and allegorical level are both truthful in theology; while in poetry, only the allegorical level of meaning is true and the surface level is fiction. Here, Dante

 

Dante’s introductory comments on the Comedy also reveal the medieval conception of the opposition between tragedy and comedy, saying that “tragedy begins admirably and tranquilly, whereas the end or exit is foul and terrible… whereas comedy introduces some harsh complication, but brings its matter to a prosperous end. Therefore, tragedy and comedy therefore differ according to the outcome of the story—they are also considered kinds of fiction, not dramatic genres.

 

Regarding the purpose of poetry, Dante mentions a possible difference between the proximate and the ultimate ends, but concludes that “the end of the whole and of the part is to remove those living in this life from the state of misery and lead them to the state of felicity.” In this sense, Dante resonates the Horatian dictum that poetry delights and instructs (dulce et utile). Moreover, Dante argues that delight comes not only from ornament, but also from the goodness in the work, which is delightful in itself.

 

In De vulgari eloquentia (On Eloquence on the Vernacular), a treatise written in Latin, Dante defends his choice of writing in Italian, arguing that serious literature can be written in the vernacular as well as in Latin.

 

Examining the various Italian dialects and choosing as the ideal vernacular the Sicilian dialect spoken by “people of quality,” Dante also expressed concern on the enrichment of Italian through the borrowing of words, a pursuit which will preoccupy Europe two centuries later.

 

Championing the importance of the vernacular, a crusade to be taken by Sir Philip Sidney in the Renaissance, Dante listed three possible themes available to vernacular poetry—namely: the state, love, and virtue. While love as a serious theme is a novelty in medieval criticism, Dante would go further to claim that the lyrical song or canzone is the best poetical form. This is the first time such a claim is made, which will perhaps be enhanced if not elaborated by the Romantic poets some five hundred years.



Photo Credit
Wikipedia.org



Nothing writes so much as blood.

Nothing writes so much as blood.
The rest are mere strangers.
—corrupted from Lawrence Kasdan’s Wyatt Earp, 1994


I. Dear Mother
Some twelve years ago, when I was working for Plan International Bicol, gathering information from the NGO’s beneficiaries-respondents in the upland barangays surrounding Mount Isarog and the Bicol National Park, I kept a notebook where I wrote the following verse for my mother Emma, who passed away in January 1996.

        In that job, I kept a journal wherever I went—perhaps to relive the days with my mother whom I dearly lost during her life [I hardly had time for her when she was sick because my editorship in the college paper ate up my schedule] and tearfully loved after her death [after college graduation, there was not much to do aside from job-hunting and freelancing with media entities around Naga City]. And there was not much reason to hunt for jobs at all because there would be no one to offer my first salary.

        The original scribbles below were written on a yellow pad paper.

 

The Sea House
For Emma, who loved so much
1996

 
Tomorrow
I will build a house
by the forest near the sea
where
six palm trees
will become
brave bystanders by day—
and
warm candles by night.

 

II. Pride from a Published Poem
After so many versions and revisions, a national magazine then edited by the National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin—published a longer submission (see below) before the end of the year. The publication of my poem in Philippine Graphic Weekly thrilled me to no end. I felt too lucky to have my [too personal a] sentiment printed in a national publication.

        It even seemed like the tribute to my mother was more heightened. For one, she would have loved to see my work printed on a national paper. Sad to say, though, it is my contemplation on her death that would give [her or me] such pride.

 

The Sea House
Philippine Graphic Weekly, November 1996


I hate to leave really.
But I should go home tonight.

Tomorrow  I will build a house
by the forest near the sea
where I alone
can hear my silence.

For it, I gathered six palm trees
stronger than me, to become
the pillars, firm foundations
of my tranquil days to come
which I will not anymore hear.

I know the trees are good
for they survived many typhoons in the past
which uprooted many others
and which made others bend,
and die.

I hope they become bright lamps
along the black road
where I will pass through
when I go home tonight.

I hope they’d be there
and that they would recognize me.
And if they don’t, it wouldn’t matter.
I would not want any trees other than them.
For I know they are very good.

But tonight, please
let them be
my warm candles.

And when I’m home
I will be certain:
Tomorrow, I will have built a house
in the forest near the sea where
Every palm tree can hear his silence. 

And the others can listen.

 

 
III. A Reader’s Response
Finding the poem in one of my diskette files when I applied for work in Quezon City and Manila, my brother Mente—perhaps to while away his time in SRTC [his workplace then where I typed hundreds of my resumes] in Kalayaan Avenue back in 1997—must have liked it so much that consequently, he translated it in Bikol, rendering a rather old, archaic Bikol version.


An Harong Sa May Dagat

(Para qui Emma, na sobrang namoot)
1997

 

Magabat an boot co na maghale,
Alagad caipuhan co na mag-uli
Ngonyan na banggui.


Sa aga, matugdoc aco nin harong
Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat,
Cun sain aco na sana an macacadangog
Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

 
Sa palibot caini, matanom aco
Nin anom na poon nin niyog
Na mas masarig sa saco,
Na magiging manga harigi—
Manga pusog na pundasyon
Can manga matuninong cong aldaw
Na dae co naman madadangog.
 

Ma’wot co na sinda magserbing
Maliwanag na ilaw sa dalan
Sa macangirhat na diclom,
Cun sain aco ma-agui
Sa sacuyang pag-uli
Ngonyan na banggui.

 
Ma’wot co man na yaon sinda duman
Asin na aco mamidbid ninda.
Alagad cun sinda malingaw saco,
Dae na bale. Dae nungca aco mahanap
Nin caribay ninda, nin huli ta aram co
Na sinda manga marhay.

 
Alagad sa atyan na banggui,
Hahagadon co na sinda
Magserbing manga maiimbong
Na candela cataid co.


Asin cun aco naca-uli na
Sigurado aco na sa aga
Naca-guibo aco nin harong
Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat
Cun sain aco na sana
An macacadangog
Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.
Asin an iba macacadangog.

 

 

IV. My Brother, My Reader, My Writer
Perhaps having the spirit of the classicists who dearly loved the classical age before them, for one, reinventing an old manuscript to serve their own purposes, Mente made an English version based on his English translation.

        Perhaps wanting to relive for himself the memory of our dear mother who was rather fonder of him [than the rest of us], Mente turned in his own masterpiece based on the published poem. Notice how the versification has radically changed—from irregular free verses to a series of couplets—and ending with a one-liner which is supposed to be the poem’s closure.

        In the process, the version he rendered would become totally his original work. Comparing his piece with the original published piece, I see that the new work now brims with new meanings and warrants a different, if not disparate interpretation.

 

 

The House by The Sea
(For Emma, who Loved So Much)
1997

 
I leave with a heavy heart
But I need to go home tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll build a house by the sea,
Where only I will hear my tranquility.

Around it I’ll plant six coconut trees
Which are stronger than I am.

Trees that will become the stable foundation
of my quiet days, which I will no longer hear.

Undoubtedly, these coconut trees are of the best quality
Because they have overcome a lot of storm, that uprooted the others.

I want them to light the way through horrible darkness,
Where I will pass when I go home tonight.

I like them to be there and for them to know me
But never mind if they’ve forgotten me.

Nobody can replace them
Because I know they are good.

But tonight I’ll ask them to be like candles,
Warm, beside me.

And when I am home
I will have surely built a house by the sea
Where only I will hear my tranquility.

And others will hear it, too.

 

 
V. A Promise to Write (A Poem)
After having undergone a number of literary workshops, I realize that images, symbols and metaphors [if any if at all] I used in the first draft are confusing and too overwhelming—giving it a puzzling dramatic situation. Now, I realize that the poem published in the past and wholly appreciated by my dear brother—with my sister perhaps, my sole readers at the time—carried double and mixed metaphors which rendered the piece fragmented, incoherent and totally not a good poem at all.

          And perhaps because it was dedicated to my dear mother, I never subjected this piece to any workshop which granted me fellowships. I submitted other pieces, and not this one.  Perhaps because I considered the work too sacred to be desecrated—or more aptly slaughtered by the write people.

         The images in the poem were drawn mostly from emotion, not reason. There was not even a clear use of figurative language or tropes such as metaphor or irony, a fact that would be abhorred by the American New Critics (who espoused that everything that we need to know about the poem should already be in the poem itself—and to the very least, never in the author’s intention, never in my sincerest wish to dedicate it to my mother.

      

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