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The sick rose

By William Blake

O Rose thou art sick.

The invisible worm,

That flies in the night

In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

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Moonlight Manila Bay

By Fernando M. Maramag

A light, serene, ethereal glory rests

Its beams effulgent on each crestling wave;

The silver touches of the moonlight wave

The deep bare bosom that the breeze molests;

While lingering whispers deepen as the wavy crests

Roll with weird rhythm, now gay, now gently grave;

And floods of lambent light appear the sea to pave-

All cast a spell that heeds not time‘s behests.

Not always such the scene; the din of fight

Has swelled the murmur of the peaceful air;

Here East and West have oft displayed their might;

Dark battle clouds have dimmed this scene so fair;

Here bold Olympia, one historic night,

Presaging freedom, claimed a people‘s care.

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Day on the farm.

By Luis G. Dato

I’ve found you fruits of sweetest taste and found you

Bunches of duhat growing by the hill,

I’ve bound your arms and hair with vine and bound you

With rare wildflowers but you are crying still.

I’ve brought you all the forest ferns and brought you

Wrapped in green leaves cicadas singing sweet,

I’ve caught you in my arms an hour and taught you

Love’s secret where the mountain spirits meet.

Your smiles have died and there is no replying

To all endearment and my gifts are vain;

Come with me, love, you are too old for crying,

The church bells ring and I hear drops of rain.

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Be Beautiful, Noble like the antique ant.

By Jose Garcia Villa

Be beautiful, noble, like the antique ant,

Who bore the storms as he bore the sun,

Wearing neither gown nor helmet,

though he was archbishop and soldier:

Wore only his own flesh

Salute characters with gracious dignity:

Though what these are is left to

Your own terms. Exact: the universe is

Not so small but these will be found

Somewhere. Exact: they will be found

Speak with great moderation: but think

With great fierceness, burning passion:

Though what the ant thought

No annuals reveal, no his descendants

Break the seal.

Trace the tracelessness of the ant,

Every ant has reached this perfection.

As he comes, so he goes,

Flowing as water flows,

Essential but secret like a rose.

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Lyrics: 17

By Jose Garcia Villa

First, a poem must be magical,

Then musical as a sea-gull.

It must be a brightness moving

And hold secret a bird’s flowering.

It must be slender as a bell,

And it must hold fire as well.

It must have the wisdom of bows

And it must kneel like a rose.

It must be able to hear

The luminance of dove and deer.

It must be able to hide

What it seeks, like a bride.

And over all I would like to hover

God, smiling from the poem’s cover.

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Here's my take on "Of Fish, Flies, Dogs and Woman".

When reading "Of Fish, Flies, Dogs, and Woman," there was so much to unravel that I had to reread it just to grasp what Maria is going through, how it affected Angelica, and her own life. Maria cannot be pigeonholed as the conventional Maria Clara, but she has shown that Filipinas are capable of possessing attributes that set them apart from others. It was heartbreaking to read how she was able to grow into the person she is now, but it was inspiring to learn how she overcame her condition. With that knowledge, she was able to empower not only herself, but also Angelica, as she tried to awaken in her the awareness of how she could still own her motherhood and the importance of women staying together at all times. It's fantastic in terms of the plot and the way it was told.

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This is another excellent piece demonstrating a multitude of experiences and shallow minds. It is vital to be informed of current issues in our culture. Its symbolism has piqued my curiosity because of its role in telling a tale about sexual harassment and machismo. Aside from that, every word and scenario was eloquently conveyed, giving me as a reader a clear picture of the locales and mood. In contrast to how a victim is typically portrayed, the woman was such a bright figure in how she was able to own herself despite her vulnerability. When compared to his younger rival, there was also a distinct difference in how the main character recovered his identity

Here's my take on "Touchmove" by Peter Mayshle

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Here's how I feel about "The use of force".

It has provided more than a political debate, but as a separate problem, from a simple narrative of a toddler refusing to visit a doctor. One of the societal challenges that less fortunate individuals confront as a result of economic and disparity is the use of force. I was astonished and horrified when I discovered another point of view extracted from the tale, because it may also be construed on the use of force for sexual abuse. It left me bewildered as to how the possibility is real, relying on the narrative's likely meaning, but also shocked to write something where readers may be carried up in their own conclusions. We're caught up in how society molds us, and as a result, our rights are suppressed.

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Here's my take on literature in the twenty-first century.

Literature from the twenty-first century has remained influential in the twenty-first century. It was able to grow because of the high mobility of people who consumed entertainment and education. Significant progress has also been achieved in terms of how literature is generated and released in a more accessible format. There's a lot more to look forward to in terms of how twenty-first-century writing will progress with them in the near future. To recapitulate, our contemporary century's literature has been able to evolve with the times while still taking a toll on all generations.

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I couldn't be a great memer because I'm a serious joker, but here I am

A meme related to the course on Purposive Communication.

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My first piece as a blogger

I was asked to write, and here am I

Not your writer, never a reader

Empty lines, pointless dreams

Lost soul, barely existing, merely breathing

Playing with words won't make a change

Empty cans will still be empty even it can make noises

And so a not so writer won't ever make it happen

Catching one's attention through art of symbols

or attaining recognition for writing would be impossible

I'm not a writer, but I'm a fighter

A survivor and conqueror

As I watched myself get through days that I thought will never end.

Again, I'm here for outlet, your not so writer will try to be an author of his own journey.