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I’m No Frank

Frank Lloyd Wright

and his falling water. Masses

of concrete cantilevered,

and extending outwards

like hands reaching- symbiosis.

But I’m no Frank

and dreams might be

my little fingers clasping

hard and pushing pencils

for somebody else’s utopia.

 

The hewn boulders of rock

resisting the foundation

on which this grand design sits,

I bear the weight of expectations.

Balancing upon the scales

on which the measure of cement

is mixed in sand and water.

The lapping over of slates into a bond.

The forward thrust of hammer to nails.

The tightening of ties around stirrups.

The alternate laying of the roof decking.

 

And the network of drain pipes,

cables and ducting, and waterlines

resembling the veins and sinews

of the building’s skeleton. I build

a symbol- the framework of the mind.

The genius envisions an edifice

in his intellectual acrobatics,

justifying to the world the modern-

reality that build themselves on paper.

 

Summoning the masons to lay

its plaster to newly cured blocks.

The painter to swab the walls

in fresh coats. The decorator

sets the chairs, the beds,

the mirrors and the tables.

The vases and layers of curtains.

The lifeless sculpture pieces

and paintings hanged to the walls.

Fixing rolls of wallpaper  and carpets

over polished granite floors.

 

The carpenter assembling

cabinet boxes, ledges and shelves.

The windows fitted to the sills.

And the doors hanged on frames.

The location of the chandelier.

Installing wooden slabs on stairs.

The green patinated balustrades.

The landscaper to plant shrubs, and ferns

and vines and trees and patch of grass.

The water fountains and the waterfall

arranged mimicking a natural set-up.

 

But I ‘m no Frank.

The hours stretched for miles and miles.

The drafting table becoming wet with fog

until  the first  hours of the morning.

I can hear the mad conversations

of the vellum and the graphite saying,

“deadline nears, it’s almost here”.

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His face is a map of caravan years,

weathering the desert sun and

the seasonal flood by the riverbank

which brings in salt for a modest living.

 

As the sand windblown and collected

in the seams of his linen turban,

anxiety constantly snake through

the mazes of his troubled mind.

 

He needed money.

 

Like how the puff of smokes

from his cigarette escapes

are fragments of his ancestor’s past

excavated from walls of antiquity.

 

He is mulling to leave the landscape

of ancient ruins, the mud-dried bricks

and clayed houses and desert wilderness

for the glowing lights of the city.

 

The mosque signals the call to prayer

and he sat down on his cushion

unfurling a sheaf of parchment,

reading through his mangled glasses

 

the fragile scribbling of faded ink.

On its brittle yellowing pages appears

like gold. This manuscript he wants to sell

to tourists he is waiting to pass by.

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Today, marks my two hundred and one days of solitude.

It gave me a sense of fulfillment to know that I have stayed through all these years writing the many vivid facets of my mind, heart and soul. Writing became my constant companion whom I can share and reflect on the intimate, smallest and minutest detail in life we often take for granted.

For the longest time, I have used poetry as a creative platform to express the richness of my personal experiences and the joy of the inner travels I have had.  I have had prose/essay  pieces before, but I have decided to channel my creative energy to poetry as the less exposed literary medium and thereby avoiding the pitfalls of being confessional.

As I have said before,  it is my intention to utilize this blog for the purpose of personal expression. It was not my intention to commercialize my creative output for monetary gain or seeking personal favors from anyone or any business entity. 

With the creative collaboration with my fellow blog writer friends, I acknowledge the tremendous help I have gained through their constructive feedback that develop me more maturely in tackling explorative writing subjects. I am poised to continue writing without constraint on the boundaries of belief, religion, age, philosophy or political ideology.  I maintained a free but a sober mind discoursing the merits of our humanity without prejudice and without the sacrifice of the value system I uphold.

Nevertheless, may the years ahead prove to be a fruitful creative writing endeavor.  It was my hope, that my creative writing serves as an inspiration, an honest reflection, and an essential guide to the paths of self-discovery, higher level of understanding and this life’s noble existence.

To my readers, I thank you for the valuable friendship, readership and patronage you have given me through all the years. This, I consider as an anchor for me to forge ahead and keep on writing.

I would like to share the prose/ essay / poetry listed in my book of days as follows;

 1)      Country Music

2)      What Motivates Me?

3)      Work

4)      Childhood Friendship (Part 1)

5)      Young At Heart

6)      Amarantine (Enya)

7)      Before Sunrise

8)      Breakout

9)      Happiness Is A Hammock Under A Shady Tree

10)  Farewell To Sunset

11)  My China Connection

12)  If You Never Say Goodbye

13)  Four Corners of Isolation

14)  Man In The Mirror

15)  Ladies in Lavender

16)  Starwars Saga

17)  Capsule Of Perfect Moment

18)  Overwhelmingly Entertained By Poverty

19)  The Kite

20)  Afraid Of The Future

21)  Burning Ladder Into Oblivion

22)  Lucid

23)  Elegy To The Departed

24)  Sunday Music Blues

25)  Commodity Of Choice

26)  Top Ten Picks On The Youth Chart

27)  Voices Of The Walking Merchant

28)  Universe Of Virtual Worlds

29)  White Flag

30)  Autumnal Equinox

31)  Indeed

32)  Liberty From Monotony

33)  Dead Poet’s Society

34)  Singlehood

35)  Hongkong In My Mind

36)  Pay Scales

37)  Antisocial

38)  Rude Awakening

39)  Diary

40)  Outsourced Economy

41)  Great Leaping Forward

42)  Tombstones

43)  City Surrealist

44)  Filtered Through

45)  Paradigm Shift

46)  October Rain

47)  Nocturne

48)  Deja’vu

49)  Hedonistic Survival

50)  Two Women

51)  Anger Scythe

52)  Refusing To Learn

53)  Waiting Room

54)  Quotes From My Fave Movies

55)  Passion For The Arts

56)  A Long Year’s Sabbath

57)  Daylight

58)  United 93

59)  Half-Filled

60)  A Prayer

61)  Ratholes And Bay Reveries

62)  In The Silence Of The Heart

63)  Sorting Out Life

64)  Rock Bottom

65)  Angling For A Kill

66)  Little Wings

67)  Frame Of A Thought

68)  Journey To Neverland

69)  A Nugget Of A Kindness

70)  Dreaming Of Pakistan

71)  No Explanations

72)  In The Foothills Of Fujairah

73)  This Way Up

74)  The Rebel

75)  Long Wait

76)  Promise Of Rain

77)  Whiskey Lullaby

78)  Trip To Quiapo

79)  Anachronism

80)  Conform To Belong

81)  Beautiful Mind

82)  Snapshots From The Edge

83)  Dream Believer

84)  30 Minutes

85)  Happy Kid

86)  Munad

87)  A Teacher’s Worth

88)  Love Letters In The Sand

89)  On A Moonless Night

90)  Quiet Contemplation

91)  Classmates In Grade School

92)  Return To Innocence

93)  Drafter’s Board

94)  Rendezvous

95)  Urban Owl

96)  Slow As The Wind Blows

97)  Chance Passenger

98)  Bottom Dollar

99)  One Foggy Morning

100)    3:100

101)    Winter’s Ode

102)    Soledad

103)    Visions Of Arabia

104)    Last Sixty Seconds

105)    Rocket Idea

106)    Unknown

107)    Dinner For Two

108)    Musings Of A Thirty Something

109)    Words To Live By

110)    Life Uncommon

111)    Canine Memories

112)    Rehearsing Love

113)    Blank Canvas In A Lazy Afternoon

114)    Highway And The Stranger

115)    Paper Trail

116)    The Day I Met The One

117)    While Listening Alison Krauss

118)    Like A Desert Meets The Rain

119)    Some Faded Photographs

120)    Haiku To A Hideaway

121)    Death Of A Little Bird

122)    Solace

123)    Absent Minded

124)    Confessional As Plath

125)    The Wake-up Call

126)    Halfway Through A Page

127)    Black And White

128)    Aurora Borealis

129)    Musically Challenged

130)    Embers

131)    Memories Are Cheap

132)    Pasig River And The Warrior Child

133)    New Leaf On Living

134)    Bicycle Ride

135)    I Left The World As It Is

136)    Paint The Words

137)    Adaptation

138)    Reflections On The Puddles

139)    Tickets

140)    Moonscape

141)    A Moth In The Flame

142)    Clothesline

143)    Sketches

144)    Monochrome

145)    Bedspace

146)    Captive In Babylon

147)    Vignette On Yesterday

148)    Bye Bye, Yellow Butterfly

149)    Chiaroscuro

150)    Prairie Walk

151)    Lost For Words

152)    Sundown Over Umm Ghuwailina

153)    Ryan

154)    Kinesthetic

155)    Counting

156)    Alphabet

157)    Ghost Whisperer

158)    Orion’s Belt

159)    Rhapsody In Blue

160)    Click Shut Down

161)    The Solitary Task Of Writing

162)    Immersion

163)    Stamps And Postmarks

164)    An Everyman’s Tragedy

165)    Paper Boats

166)    Birthday Candle

167)    Second Thought

168)    Nil

169)    Lukewarm

170)    Touchdown

171)    Ink Must Wait

172)    Great Divide

173)    Sugar For Coffee

174)    Half Truth

175)    On The Last Chapter

176)    Quatrain For The Dying Tree

177)    Dapples

178)    Keys To Some Secrets

179)    Wind Swept

180)    Detached

181)    To Pablo Neruda

182)    Opaque

183)    Scribbling

184)    Burned Bridges

185)    Moonquake

186)    She Sings

187)    Parachute

188)    Earth Sounds

189)    Oeuvre

190)    Watermark

191)    Once Solitary Shell

192)    Grandfather’s Clock

193)    Vanishing Point

194)    Nightfall

195)    Tryst

196)    Laundry For The Firstborn

197)    Finding The Light

198)    Bliss

199)    Phantom Of A Dream

200)    Avalanche

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Lines converge

into the center of our visions,

unhindered by picket fences.

 

Shuffling images on a collage-

brick walls in grafitti,

kites, flags and confetti.

 

The gaping surrealism

in cloudless sky of reverie. Fleeting

in the tail-end of comets.

 

Color trapped in spectrum

of rainbows and sandstorms

obscuring the bluest of hemispheres.

 

“The world was linear,

we exist in parallelisms.”

This is our perspective.

 

Have we understood

the secrets of the horizon?

Our dreams fading without trace.

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No hero’s welcome.

No grand parade.

Is waiting for the door left ajar.

Only its creaking sound

breaks the silence. And the breathing air

of some familiar spirits. I am once-

a familiar visitor in this house.

 

All that remains are lifeless forms

who have patiently waited here

Am I? Like a hermit crab

occupying this once solitary shell.

Called to embrace the shadows again.

Recapturing the lost and faded

photographs and memories

of the distant past. Forgive me.

 

For I came back not to rebuild

your imperiously alienating walls

I have suffered to endure. The magnanimity

of this abode, on which I failed

to contain the tension. Conquering

the many days and the years living

in the fear that haunted me. As I

have walked away to seek my own.

 

Yesterday will be torn into relevant bits

and pieces. As mementos and snapshots

I will keep them at bay. Never again would

memories imprison me into its walls

like ancient ghosts wailing, begging

to bring them back to their immortality.

 

I will clear away the cobwebs.

I will swept away the dust, making room

on these lonely spaces. I came back.

To cleanse this home of its sad sequences.

I will peel away the white sheets

that has covered the flaws, the lapses,

and the many inconsistencies in our lives-

we are ashamed to show. But instead,

we kept hidden for so long.

 

I will open the windows, taking in

the sunshine and the country air

and hope- as its constant companion.

Savoring the remaining days

choosing to be happy. A pilgrim

transforming this house into a habitation.

The dappled lightness of my being.

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Today. I start

bringing in new logs

I felled from my fortress.

I will coat them anew

in fresh paint of goodwill.

I will securely fasten

each wooden plug,

each wooden cleat,

each wooden brace

to build us a stronger span.

Against the strong winds

and the storm that will try

to bring us down.

 

I will fortify the foundation,

reinforcing the tablet of stones-

your kind words into my memory.

As the arch of my hands

stretches out to reach you,

in peace.

 

Gone are the moments

when anger flickers

like flames of fire

among us. Gone

are the days

of charred remains-

the ebony nights, in tears.

Of the years when

turbulent waters

divide us. I start

 

to mend the bridges

I burned before.

That is to say, I am

opening the carriageway

of warm exchanges-

crossing to your side,

once again.  Someday.

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I build

with lines and curves

in syntaxes, in symbols.

Blank space waiting

to emerge in form. Subdued,

muted in tone verses. Tempered

by time, organic

in proportion,

inspired.

 

Scale upon scale.

Measure for measure.

Out of paper,

subliminal life

surfaces. A voice,

a message in letters,

of pure and simple

speech.

 

Impressions.

Outside

looking in. Experience

subtle reverberations,

palimpsest graphite

echoes of human

dimension.

 

The length,

the width and the depth

of an architect,

I build.

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