Memoirs

The mind is covered
with cobwebs -
like a chest
laden with stories
of many various sunsets.

My Heart

My heart
is that of a
vampire's stomach,
filled with the blood
of a hundred slivered souls.

Daybreak

And the sun
is a grave keeper
digging out the soil
of the night's tombstone.

-dyankayben-

Bulawan

Dahon,
kansuodma ika berde
siring sa kulay nin uma
na naherasan nin tinanom.

Ako,
kansuodma nabubuhay,
pinangaki na may mata
na nakahiling sa saimo.

Dahon,
ngunyan na ika bulawan,
siring sa kulay nin uma
na grasya sa para-uma.

Ako,
ngunyan ako naghahangos,
tibaad nuarin sana,
mawara an sakuyang mata.

Dahon,
saaga, pa'no na ika?
Pag mayo na ako igdi,
isay saimo matanaw?

-dyan kay ben-

Onward

I tidied up my bed
where her memories
sharpened the creases
of my sheets.

Like a snake, my heart
has shed its skin.
And that I held it close to my chest,
drenched with honey and blood.

As I stare on the wall,
a portrait of you reminds me
of the nightingale's song
at the break of dawning.

And on my bed,
I see our picture -
your arms wrapped around me;
a flash of an empty scene, I get.

-dyan kay ben-

Bitoon

Nagpatalubo ako
nin nagkapirang tinanom sa natad -
mga banhi nin nagbuburak na tanom.
Inataman ko nin husay,
dinugdog ni tubig
kun namamate ko na siring
na sana an paha kan mga gamot.

Nagdukhay nin hararom,
nagrarom
asin nagrarom lalo
an mga ugat kaini sa daga -
sa kada muklat-turog
nin saldang asin bulan.

Tuminambo ini nin husay
hastang nagsupang
an mga enot na sanga
asin matutunganga ako
habang dinadalan an tinanom
na nagbabayle sa duros.

Pirang ekis na man
an sakuyang naitatak sa kalendaryo
kan luhay-luhay, sarong aldaw -
pag-hakay ko asin paghunat,
nakisabay man an mga burak
na napagmata sa halawig na turog.

Pagbungkaras ko sa kutson,
sinir'ip sa bintana an mga tanom
sa sakuyang natad
kan pukawon an sakuyang mga mata
asin kalag kan nahiling -
mga estrella na narakdag hale sa langit!

Nagkikirimat-kimat sa laad nin saldang
asin an pahamot, minahapihap
sa sakuyang dungo;
mga kalyo asin lugad sa kamot
na naging mga estrella
na nagliliwanag, pamukaw-kalag.

Uminagi an sakuyang amigo
asin napapundo para makisumaro
sa sakuya sa pagpiyesta
nin samuyang mga mata
sa nakahatag na tanawon -
mga estrellas na nagliliwanag sa aldaw.

Bulan an naka-agi
bago nagturugpaan sa sakuyang natad
an mga bitoon sa langit.
Kaparehong aldaw,
paghuraw nin saldang sa sulnupan,
hahabason man an mga bitoon.

The Eye You See Isnt...

The eye you see isn't an eye
because you see it.
It's an eye because it sees you

-Antonio Machado

If You Leave at Daybreak

If you leave at daybreak,
Silently, lightly, love,
Do not alarm the nightingale.

If you part at dawning
From these arms that hold you dear,
That you not be seen in the arms
Of an enviable affair,
Go on woolen tiptoe,
Silently, lightly, love,
Do not alarm the nightingale.

-Lope de Vega

Charred Candlewick

Night’s darkness enveloped the old house
where only a candle stick served as illumination.
Slowly,
wax drips like teardrops.

As if the length of paraffin has
a feeling of its own, like it could breathe as how we do.
Darkness,
falls as the wind blows.

Tomorrow, as the sun starts yawning,
the wick will wait for the tiny flicker that will revive.
Sputter,
life springs back anew.

-dyan kay ben-

Nocturne

Silence of the night, sorrowful nighttime
silence . . . Why does my soul tremble this way?
I hear the humming of my blood,
a gentle storm passes by inside my skull.
Insomnia! To be unable to sleep, and yet
to keep dreaming. To be the self-subject
of spiritual dissection, the self-Hamlet!
To diffuse my sadness
into a night wine
in the miraculous crystal goblet of the darkness. . . .
And I ask myself: "At what hour will the dawn come?"
A door has closed. . . .
Someone has walked by outside. . . .
The clock has struck three. . . . What if it’s Death?!

-Ruben Dario

The Garden Can Keep its Roses

Day by day, I walked past a garden
to marvel at magnificence –
the white doves cooing,
the pears, peaches and apples that abound,
and after all the scenes –
have my eyes fixed on the roses.

The roses with their mystic arrangements,
with the thorns that ward-off
intoxicated lovers from picking them.
And the euphoric bliss brought about
by the fragrance that perfumes;
the moist scent in Eden.

And then I’d pick a flower – a rose,
unmindful of the treacherous thorns
that would likely prick
my finger – and that drop of blood
to spill on the flowers petals
to add to its crimson pigment.

And then by envy, my chest would
heave a deep sigh while looking up
toward the sapphire ceiling of the sky
while the sun’s rays peeped through
the emerald-green foliage of the trees –
where the palomas nestled.

Clear, sunny afternoon –
I’d slowly pace down the road while
whistling out tunes – the scherzos,
the minuettes; all in staccato,
as the urgency for bringing home my gift
was felt while toiling my way.

Still a long way to go – where
in the opaline sky is a peaceful transparency
that grades off until it changes to tones of
dark violet toward the east, shifting to gold –
and at the horizon, the last beams of light vibrate;
oblique, reddish and losing their strength.

Alas! upon my neighbor’s doorstep,
with the present in my hand; that crimson bud
with claws that pierced through flesh.
Through my finger – and that drop of blood
to spill on the flower’s petals
to add to its crimson pigment.

But pinkish young woman, denied of tomorrow
as the sun yawned to sleep, took her sight forever.
And the first sign of the stars would mean
the last signs of her life too. There she lay,
breathless, eyelids shut to the world now,
forevermore deprived of my burning admiration.

I look at her cold face –
calm, no signs of stress, no signs of life.
I began blaming her: "Had you not left your door
open for Death to pass through and take you!"
I can never see her chestnut eyes anymore
with the tiny sparks, signs of her life.

With utter disappointment I cursed –
the opaline sky, the first stars, the emerald-green foliage of the trees
where the palomas nestled,
the scherzos, the minuettes – all in staccato.
Oh! and the pears, peaches and apples,
and the crimson bud with the drop of my blood.

I cast away the rose,
and a bitter sigh while staring at the velvet sky.
The stars twinkled; resembling the tiny sparks
that I used to behold in her eyes.
"You and your fragrance cannot bring her back!
What meaning is there for a pair of eyes in Eden?"

I turned my back against Feliz –
what happiness could I now hold?
In my hand are blisters – on the floor, my present.
The fragrance brings chills to my spine
as it insultingly conveys merriment.
Eden can keep its roses.

-dyan kay ben-

Quote

"I love you." Not a single statement could be more threatening. It just means that you are about to receive a gift that you may not want. -Rainer Maria Rilke

Resilient

Moments ago, I sat down
to spare myself from the mockery that
accompanied stumbling.
Love itself slapped me hard
and knocked me.
I wasted epochs wailing -
mourning for some loss
until the day that light peeped through.
Alas! a hand was lent and grabbed me
and freed me from the box.
I stood up and resolved myself,
wiped my face from tears.
If not for the hand that pulled me up
never would I be spared.

I found her paces ahead of me.
She was walking faster
and I was but weak.
I have to fight and recover
if ever I wanted to gain on her.
Until that day comes,
she'll pause for a while -
to sit and to take a rest;
from all the walking.
And until that very moment,
I'll grab her by the hand.
I won't let go of her,
pull her in front of me
and have her wrapped in my arms