The Cross

*this picture was posted with permission from deyedoctor

The Cross

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Cross

            Made out of wood, iron, or string,

            looked weary around the neck of any sinner.

            Dangled side to side as it swung,

slipped, loosened, untwined from the Scapular.

 

Scapular

            Embraced firmly to the old cross,

             slipped helplessly away.

            Squeezed out all the memories within,

            the old worn out fragile string.

 

String

            Black as the hair of a damsel

            corrupted by the heart of a sinner.

            Weak as a mortal who sought redemption

            it bore the weight of the metallic Cross.

 

Cross

            Looked wearily and innocently at me

            slowly revealed its intentions.

            The framework that humbly aim to carry,

            the figure of the forgotten Christ.

 

Christ

            Humbly waited for my decisive actions

            that reflected these sins in my hands.

            It showed me the truth, reclaimed my beliefs,

            kept me alive, then I asked for forgiveness.

This poem was posted at helium

My ABC

The rat was a goner

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A thud sounded loudly in the kitchen.

Behold, a rat, running amok!

Clambering through pots and pans,

dangling its dirty tail behind.

Each step it made, disgusted me.

For I know why it ran and hid.

“Get him!” my mother cried out loud.

Hurriedly, I grabbed a club.

I swung it over, but the rat was guile, and it

jumped crazily, faced me, as if  to smile.

Knocking the plates, banging the pans.

Luckily I was able to corner it,

motionless, it stared back.

“No!” as if it begged

“Oh! You think you can fool me?” I said.

Plead as much as you want.

Quickly I swung my club,

ran it went, briskly I followed. It

searched for more places to hide.

Tossed out hindrances, I tried.

Under the table it went and I trailed.

Viola! One swing I caught its head.

Whimpering at first, then it went still.

X-living is zilch!

You know this house is clean,

zany was the rat, but gone it is. 

Definition of ABC poem

An ABC poem has a series of lines that create a mood, picture, or feeling. Lines are made up of words and phrases. The first word of line 1 begins with an A, the first word of line 2 begins with a B etc.

*this poem was also submitted to helium

Badminton

I never knew I would get hooked with the game until I first tried playing three years ago. I was still a resident in Internal Medicine when one of the lady Surgery Consultants asked me if I know how play badminton. Recalling that I did some basic badminton in my childhood and also played the game only once or twice the year before, I gave it a shot. 

With my heavy badminton racket with me, I joined them. There were other residents from different departments as well. Some of my senior residents, who, of course, only wanted to sweat their fat away. I saw the Surgery Consultant, Dale, with her friend Jo (a lady Pediatrician) already at the badminton court. My jaw fell when I saw them playing. 

"Are these women?" I said to myself. they looked pretty in their outfits but, more like an amazon warrior whenever they move and hit the shuttlecock! They stood out from the 'beginners" of the game. 

I humbly admit, that my status then was not even  a beginner by their standard!

Dale gave me a bit of a refresher course in the scoring over some pizzas the friendly medical representative (med rep) sponsors brought us. Then we played. I thought I could never sweat enough! I had cramps! My right arm hurt! To think that I was just in the court for (maybe) around five minutes. Meanwhile, these two amazons didn't even break a sweat!

I was challenged. From then on, I initiated the dates of our games. When and where to play. Who to play with. At first, it was limited to doctors and med reps. Then, when they weren't available, I found other people to play with. The nursing staff, the non medical staff, and almost everyone I knew who play badminton at my hospital played with me.

I fell in love with the sport. Gained new friends in the process. I recalled playing I have travelled even to Vigan, Ilocos Sur to paly with good friends. There was this one time we started playing at 12 noon and finished at 8 pm! Felt my whole body ache the next day. 

I was addicted! If passion and addiction were the same, I would have used them interchageably! Learned a few tricks here and there as I play with other people. I also gave up my heavy racket for a light weight one. Had to do some research with what racket to use. As a smasher I needed one that would hit hard as I swing it. 

After I graduated from my residency training, my love for the game didn't. I kept playing and improving. Four trophies and three medals later, I know that there will always be room for improvement.

Wanna play?

* thanks to mendel simpauco for providing the picture!

As promised, this is the English Translation of "Magkayakap Sa Panaginip "

Embrace in our Dreams

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These tight embraces,

intertwined with each other.

These bodies undulating,

in a slow music.

 

Whispering, sensing,

these heartbeats in our chest.

Wishing to prolong,

this night together.

 

As the song brings to a stop

holding each others hands.

Now, we may depart,

but in our dreams, we embrace.

Filipino poem

My dear readers, pardon my haste. The English translation will come out soon. 

Magkayakap sa panaginip

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Mga mahihigpit na yakap,

nakapulupot sa isa’t isa.

Mga katawan na dumuduyan,

sa mabagal na musika.

 

Nagbubulungan, nakikiramdam,

sa mga kabog ng dibdib.

Hinihiling na magtagal pa

itong gabing magkapiling.

 

At sa paghinto ng awitin

mga kama’y magkahawak

Lumisan man ngayon,

Sa panaginip magkayakap. 

Looking Back to my College Years

Since I have started this blog, I couldn't exactly figure out what to blog about. There are so many things I want to post. But for now, I would settle with articles, poems and stories.

When I was in college, there were just so many exams and projects to make. Plus the teachers were a bit strict in my University. Writing helped release our tension. Unfortunately, we weren't the professional writers like the Varsitarians nor the CSJ (College of Science Journal). We were just plain Biology major students, writing for the fun of it. 

Our Class newsletter was named the "Bzz...zzz." Got it from the sound of a buzzing bumble bee (Scientific name: Bombus sp.) Since we belonged to block B (you know "Bee" for B). There was also a logo of a bee in shoes. Started on our third year, we toiled each newsletter even when we were having major exams or after drinking binges. It was exciting. Everyone in the class was invited to make an article and we were true to our promises in publishing whatever they made. So, the newsletter wasn't exactly the best, but the most appreciated that I can think of (as far as my class was concerned). 

I saw my compilation of the newsletter and decided to add some of the poems I have written. 

Poems

Here are some of the poems I created for my class newsletter during college.

Now that I am Twenty

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Now that i am twenty,

I have lived up to my teens

and face the challenges

as they come

Now that I am twenty,

the past seems so near

for what in the future that I see

is here

Now that I am twenty, 

I learned how to be nineteen

and face the fact that says

Goodbye yesteryear.

Now that I am twenty, 

dreams are so real

almost at hand 

reality is near

Now that I am twenty...

Reflections

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I see  you in my eyes

petrified

seeing only emptyness

and remorse

I called out to you, but you said, 

"Leave me. I need to find myself."

I hesitated to leave

because I know

That you need me

despite of all

I reached out my hand to you

and you did the same

Fnally, i saw you smile

and in the corner of my mind

I heard a gentle whisper

of your prayer

Now, I found you.