Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is no art.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Untitled

In this world of superficialties,
of deception and doubt,
of danger and of fear
of all that lurks about,
I found in you a safe place.

You eased all pains
and opened my eyes
showing me that there was nothing to fear;
not when you were there.
You were my courage
and strength to face the world.
It didn't matter that I was unarmed,
not when you were there.
You taught me the world's greatest secrets
and we listened quietly to life's song
but the silence never bothered me..
not when you were there.

In the still of the night
when darkness is at its peak
I'll dream my worries away
and go home to my safe place

You will always be home.

I couldn't sleep tonight, so like I usually do when insomnia gets to me, I rummaged through my things to find something worth digging up again or some forgotten piece of random thing. (there are endless pieces of random things in my room). Tonight I took out one of my writing/doodle notebooks. Not a particularly old one, just one that I don't so often use anymore. I found this written 4 months ago. Of course, it aint a nobel prize worthy piece, but I do remember specifically what I was feeling when I wrote it. I wasn't trying to be all poetic or anything,I know I'm not profound enough to be a good writer.
I used to like writing a lot more when I was younger, but as I got older I guess I just stopped. I stopped the stories, the poems, the very short prose, and i'm still not exactly sure why. I guess things just got more complicated as we grew up and I didn't find the time and the right enough imagination to continue. I once started a story when I was 13, and I could only continue it every summer when there was no school. It went on and on until I was about 15 or 16, and then I stopped because I couldn't remember how it was going to end. I didn't wanna change the ending because the story was based on a dream I had, and I just invented the rest to come up with a whole story while still retaining the main point from the dream. As time went on, I forgot the whole thing altogether, and can't even find the notebook where I wrote it anymore. I've a strange feeling I threw it away when our room was being renovated. After that I just kinda wrote whenever it was required or when I really felt like it. My journals were never up to date anymore, and I remember stopping to write in mid-kwento due to whatever distraction. Hence, the decline of my writing skills, had there even been any. If not for my blog, I still probably wouldn't be writing. It's not that I don't like to write anymore, it's just that i'm kind of intimidated by it for some reason.

Anyways, this in fact wasn't even really meant to be a poem. It's just...a release of words. of emotions. Here's something else I got from the same notebook:

Nothing

Am I, are we really existent?
Or do we ever prowl in endless seas?
Am I really here right now, inscribing?
Or am I but a fragment of the mind?

The wry road of endless, eternal life
Is but an extinct yet profound dream
I truly do not exist in the world
I am but a fruit of the will to live

The will to live allows us to go on
It allows us to strive on and on
It gives us meaning, significance
Simply why we are never nothing.

Would you believe me if I told you a 5th grader wrote that? Well, one did. Now at 17, his simple written down thoughts influence, entertain, and inspire and make me wish that I still had the same fondness for writing that I had had before. I am pleased to say that I personally know the author and hopefully, we remain to be good friends.

~Whether you decide to pursue writing as a career or not, you know there will always be people listening. And on the day of publishing of your first bestseller, you'll notice a familiar-looking little girl all anxious and excited, waiting first in line.~

tricia grew up at 2:09 AM

Monday, October 24, 2005

Wishful thinking
By Duncan Shiek

Listen to the waves
Everything communicates
Will it ever be
Anything more
Than wishful thinking?
Oh no there you go
Looked away and
Missed the show
How much wasted time
Will you survive?

Feel the blades of grass
How it brings you back
It will always be
Only as green
As you can see
Oh no there you go
Looked away and
Missed the show
How much wasted time
Will you survive?
Oh yeah fooled again
I don't know how
And I don't know when
Not much else to blame
But wishful thinking

Little breakdowns
In coastal towns
They come suddenly
Crashing over you
They come easily
I'm falling
Through the skies
And frozen places

Oh no there you go
Looked away and
Missed the show
How much wasted time
Will you survive
Oh yeah fooled again
I don't know how
And I don't know when
Not much else to blame
But wishful thinking

And I try to realize
That I needn't look
Any further
The whole of
The universe
Is plain to see
And I try not to rely
On another world
Or the future
The whole of
The universe
Is a mystery

And it gets me over
It gets me over you ohhh
And it gets me over
It gets me over you

tricia grew up at 2:14 AM

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

This entry is dedicated to Jiggy and Claud, my 2 most beloved seatmates..... I found this in buried under one of my drawers, and it made me laugh for about 5 mintues straight. hehehe....miss you both to bits!!!!

MGA ANAK NI JIGGY at CLAUD ONG:
By Patricia Torres and 4H
(to those who don't get it.....you'll figure it out ;D )

Kangk
Gat
Purunt
Wal
Bago
Il
Sakn
Pag
Tipakl
Bag
Balis
Nin
Bakt
Sar
Kand
Dingd
Ut
Dug
Pay
Kul
Tan
Pulut
Isapat
Gint
Tongtongt
Tortang
Tal
Kaninapat
Pancit Kant
Pakit
Bar
Gag
Marun
Kit
Manggugol
Tal
Kinul
Bulut
Tul
Peraobay
Kurik
Kut
Sump
Galungg
Gungg
Bit
Sumb
Kingk
Ink
Gul
Man
Pit
Katul
Get
Ket
Bul
Prit
Pat
Galup
Sin
Bent
Pangul
Senad
Sumosobranat
Pasul

hahahaha........ I miss being a bully and being "bullied" by you two, and when the corniest things would be "hazel's fault", or Jiggy's quotes for the day and the never-ending use of my liquid paper/scissors/ruler/calligraphy paper/everything else in my national book store. Miss you,seatmates! :)

tricia grew up at 7:42 PM