"Of Tranquility and Hope: All after Tanay, and Andres Bonifacio"

"Of Tranquility and Hope: 
All after Tanay, and Andres Bonifacio"

It's been a long while that this page hasn't have any poems.

All due to work and perhaps focusing on making notes, this writer hath again posted some poems which are based from both a writer's stay in a town, as well as reaffirming a country's love in a time of struggle.

Initially, this piece is meant to be like any other writeup, tackling about the tranquility of the town this writer visited few times out of work; yet from those work-related visits comes thoughts of making a piece, which not just dealt with the place itself, but also a yearning for hope. For in fact, in observing that tranquil setting such as Rizal's Tanay, one would say that it is a place suitable for a respite from the bustling, noisy nature of the metropolis; and from there one feels the towns relaxing atmosphere, seeing or even savouring the lush greenery till enough to unwind and enjoy nature's pleasantry.

However, for a concerned such as this person's, behind that tranquil setting lies poverty. For Tanay, as any other rural area within CALABARZON, there are poor peasants who still depend on sustenance agriculture; and most of which are victimised by usury, lack of education and various forms of opportunities, if not easily to be pinpointed by the state's agents especially those who are critical in the latter's policies.
Oftentimes, some portions of the town especially the mountainous ones, hath been a battlefield between the insurgents and the state, mostly consists of ambushes led by insurgents targeting convoys of policemen or soldiers, if not soldiers or policemen passing by only to fell into a trap of awaiting foe;  from these, one would say that it is truly an example of a "class struggle".

But despite all those truths, of battlefields and neglected hopes, the place remains beautiful, idyllic. And from it somehow comes the poems he took time to write- and eventually posted in this page. As saidth earlier, it expresses hope, a yearning for love, and even the desire to break the bonds that maketh a man subservient as well as those of its own homeland. Sorry for being political tho but for a concerned, there are views that may end "culturally political" especially after seeking truths from facts.

Coincidentally, these works are also made in celebration of Andres Bonifacio's birth, and he, known as a "great plebeian", was also into literature, and did expressed some of his sentiment through poetry such as his exemplar work "Pagibig sa Tinubuang Bayan" (Love of one's birthland), which emphasises the country not just as one's place of birth, but a land meant to cherish, fight, and give love even at the expense of one's life.

All in all, hope that from these works, no matter how few it is, also finds a reflection.

"From the fields of Tanay"

It's good to see you again thy quiet town
Whose same old marigold flowers blooming in the roadside
Of Mango groves and Coconut Trees
Anything tropical stood the countless winds of time
From the bustling, noisy metropolis
Comes a place enough to call retreat
Whose mountains green entice the urban dweller
To leave  and enjoy with her eve for a bit

There you saw the stream whose flowing waters
All coming from the swampy hills
Of muddy roads where farmers and owners
Of Bandits and Fighters traverse
I remember when I once went to the hill top sought the lush green glen
If not the mountains as far eye seen
And felt the breeze that satisfies
Whispering the love as it seems

Of papaya trees whose ripened fruits
Ready to be picked by the farmworker's calloused hands
Of ripened chilies and tomatoes
Whose red glows signify its harvest
The nursery where the lettuce seedlings
Ready to be planted in its patches prepared
All tended with love and care
Whilst the market awaits for it's fruits to share

If not well served for lunch or dinner
Or even a snack by another
Trying to stave the hunger if not the thirst
Brought by the long trip from the bustling town
"Delicious" as one would say as to see the mouth watering fruits
All tended, picked, with selfless love and care
Then prepared at the kitchens, becoming snacks, viands
And served enough to slake off desire

With these I wonder why love truly wins
Even in this era of wretched hate
That love has to be liberating
Far from what the order says for it's sake
But the question is, what kind of love it could be?
Will it be as peaceful as the grave or as bloody as the the trenches?

How quiet that town is, but its surroundings be disrupted
As the struggle been erupted like others in a land that is neglected
Muddy, grassy paths, mostly stained with blood,
Fertilises the fields, brings life the barren sod
Perhaps reality says the latter: that if love is to win it is to be fought
That fight can be bloodier and can't be forgot.

Pardon for the words if my note speaks of peace

Yes the place is peaceful for how quiet it seems

But behind the tranquility is a struggling truth 

In a way news reports often heard throughout 

Let the fruits be ripened on the day hope springs
As the sun, with all its bright red shining
As the ones who till will ever enjoy its work
Enjoying the place in the sun, and for years to come.

"Loving again by fighting back"

Apologies to the supremo, for his message remains

As seen, heard in various mediums, reminding if not for sake

For his time is a holiday, expect no one cares for him

Except for a concerned whose homeland meant to redeem

For as time goes by and still hearing those words

Of he, a beloved warrior poet whose undying love resounds

A love of one's home that's akin to a one's cherished

So pure and greater, otherwise none.

In a time of moving on as if nothing happened

Of edifices ruined, deteriorated

Of works gone auctioned left to the highest bidder

And those who cling to a legacy saddened

I tried to understand with all these things

Of events which one chose not to heed

They would scorn sometime, such as after a plebeian's plea

Whose hunger driven word be respond by a sarcastic sneer

From there sometimes I ask when was the time we express love

Or did we hear the country, people weep?

For sure the answer would be a "plastic" kind of yes

For the truth lies in apathy, of minds intentionally in sleep

Of endless parties assuming endless summer nights

Trying to hid the poverty even few dare to sight

Of shantytowns covered by walls, of festivals hiding hunger

Of paintings featuring countryside's beauty, dispelling bloodshed in its sod

From this when was the time the homeland given boundless honour?

Is it from those who win in numerous feats, orders of glories?

No honour comes from those who forge and till, made the foundations

Desires trying to come true, invoking the greatness as it looks

But hoping that those who are born from humility be honoured

For theirs who forge and till has brought a realm

The heart of a crooked is that of the sewer

Whose excesses oughtweighs the "contributions", of blood debts over monuments

Greed and hatred continues to tremble
Even in this era where freedom and justice matters
Delusions of grandeur trying to outshine the facts
Yet failing to undermine the hearts and minds of the concerned

From  all these contradictions the truth outweighs the impression

For the people, as in the past seeks liberation

No matter how silence be imposed few will stubbornly raise voice

Raging 'gainst the dying of light, one after another comes the noise

For thy land, like a mother, is that gave us life
Provided the warmth, the nourishment, and even inspiration
To her we owe the things that brought us joys
Enough to keep us youthful in a times of sorrow

From the metropolitan skylines to the tranquility of the countryside
Brings back to the mind the memory of one's joy and labor
Of abandoned warehouses to the sugarcanes of azucareras
Reminds of struggle, if not sad recollections, longing for redeemer

And now to see a land bereft of heritage, a soulless entity
Time and again exploited by the order, even in this so-called "liberty"
Her dignity dragged by impostors, pimped and raped by entrenched entities
Local and foreign impostors alike, is this also modernity?

From this, when will come the vengeance that boils our hearts
That will break the delusions of an imposed peace?
We are willing to sacrifice our lives just to end this bondage
As we have enough of silence, of mourning, of sorrow!

Again dedicate all our love that's selfless

Every brain, every brawn, every sweat and blood

Unto her if that's to free the way we break our hidden chains

From this we'll have a home to redeem, if not a world to win

God be with us thy land,
For through him we dedicate thy home we stand,
Cherished for decades and still fighting it,
For even at the expense of lives our land we'll still give value.

May the hills and mountains cherish,
With all its trees and fruits,
May the plains bear glittering grains,
That sustain us for all these years.

May the factories continue to churn,
The needs that most demand,
Let the cities bring enlightenment,
To the countryside still in fright.

May he elevate the lowly and the none,
For they till and forge undone,
Give them comfort as they help us,
And as they fought for us give them hope.

So are the well-enough but enlightened
For they are aware in its surrounding thus willing
To serve and guide thy unfortunates
To their hopes left unrealised and in their dreams

And may those from the order bring light unto their hearts
And in their minds bring clarity in their thoughts
May their consciences take to the side of the just
For if not how useless their service as it is public trust

For there is a fight to fight and thus we shan't afraid,
The order, for decades past oppresses and still remain;
O Lord! My people! take us thee in a just direction,
That even in the expense of thy lives,
for a land of hope and just peace to come.