Of Things to Come. . .

A book or two: The 2nd poetry book is in the offing. 40+ poems about life, new voices, elegies, some fun stuff and at the opposite, some serious. It is how I feel at the moment. A compendium of love, hate, sorrow, in times of covid-19, the lust to wander all over the place and explore new places as well as getting to know meself better all culled in a year of quietude as well as danger. In its final edits, it should be out before June 2021. The second book is a collection of short stories. Like any writer, the heart of the story is the characters that make life worth living, no matter what mental and physical station they are in. Inspired from music, fashion, the supernatural, to the mundane life of family drama, the book’s premise is about love and all the honey and vinegar trickling down from it. It’s not a guarantee but I am hopeful it will be published this year. Oh, by the by… it is all self-published.

An excerpt of a poem aptly titled The Bamboo Grove… (under edits)

I blinked my eye

I found myself sitting on a white wooden bench

Surrounded by tall bamboos

A narrow path of gray stone snaked from the left to the right

I see the afternoon sun peeking through the bamboo leaves

There’s a hush then the wind brushed it’s hands above

The trees swayed.

This was bliss.

Loving thyself takes all shapes and forms to ensure I am alive and healthy. It means donning face shield over face mask, social distancing and limit going out and about no matter how much wanderlust creeps into my psyche. This also includes eating less sugar, rice, red meat, processed food while increasing water, veggies, yogurt, soy, sun, yoga and tennis. Maintain and control diabetes and high blood pressure. I’ve lost 16 pounds since January 2020, my ideal weight is actually to lose 10 more but I can wait. No need to guild the Sampaguita, *tee hee and cups mouth*

The premise of learning cannot be denied anymore. The thought of going back to school is percolating in this brain of mine. An MFA in Creative Writing isn’t too far-fetched. I’ve done some research and am following up on reference/recommendation letters from esteemed Professors at school. I am not sure I am a good fit in any MFA school because my pedagogy is limited should I end up teaching in the future. Friends suggest taking short-term courses online but I love the classroom settings, the workshops, and the feedback I get is nothing compared to someone I only meet in online meetings but then, we shall see. Quite excited on the prospect but boy, there’s too many requirements and documents needed to even get to that hallowed hall of education.

I don’t know how much more oxygen I have to inhale, the sunsets I will see, the breeze of the ocean clamping onto the bristles of whatever hair I have left in this body or ruminate on the sweet taste of bittermelon flowing down my throat or the dulcet sound of birds twittering about close to my windows. I do not aspire to be the great storyteller nor become everyone’s dream poet. That’s not the point of why I write. All I know is that I have a legacy to leave behind. I am not perfect. I have my faults. It might not be to your liking, but I’ve lived and will continue to live life the way I can and want.

This is all I want this year and for more years to come: Alive, healthy, writing and playing tennis. . .


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