The Sixteenth of a Dozen Verses

In the Star Wars universe, Kashyyyk is the homeworld of the tall shaggy creatures called Wookiees, the most popular among whom was Chewbacca. It is teeming with immense forests covered with the massive carnivorous wroshyr trees, in and around which the Wookiees construct their homes.

In this sixteenth series of a dozen verses, just like in the last few ones, I strictly followed the sonnet format except for "My Belovèd, Never Forget That," which is composed of fifteen lines; as well as imposed a regular metrical and rhyming pattern.

Since my early years as a poet, 1988 onwards, the sonnet has always been my preferred type of poems, perhaps because I revere Shakespeare's sonnets or because of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet XLIII, better known as "How Do I Love Thee?," which was the very first English poem I was able to memorize by heart. Or, because the sonnet is "just right" for me, for it follows a strict metrical and rhyming pattern yet remains to be structurally short and simple.

I terminated almost each of the sonnets below with a couplet consisting of the first lines of the first and the third stanzas of the poem. And then, for additional signature style, I derived the title of each poem from its first line, trying as much as possible to end it with a preposition (for, when, by, while, etc.), giving the title a "hanging" effect.

I would also like to acknowledge that I wrote "If Only We Could Spend Our," a poem using Star Wars literature, in timely regard to the forthshowing final film episode of the saga, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.

Lastly, in writing the sonnet "I Pine for Cherry Blossoms Falling By" I derived the images from the vivid descriptions of a dear friend of mine who lives in the very setting of the poem—Yokkaichi-shi, in Mie-ken, Japan—and from my previous research about Japanese culture and literature.


May 2, Monday
*Until When Will I Yearn For*

Until when will I yearn for my home?
Tell me, am I really not alone
In thinking and in feeling this way?

Be steadfast like the last Pope of Rome,
Will I; 'til I become skin-and-bone?
I'm longing for something every day;

I'm so tired of brooding like a gnome;
Childhood, I seem to have not outgrown.
Why can't they listen to what I say?

When will I escape this suff'cating dome?
Can I regain what I used to own?
Will Heaven reach out to me someday?

Until when will I yearn for my home?
I'm so tired of brooding like a gnome.

May 3, Tuesday
*There Are Moments When*

There are moments when I'm losing my sanity,
When I'm slipping back into my own history,
To cleanse my soul and restart my mortality,
Reclaim my identity and my dignity.

There are moments when doubts fog my lucidity,
When I begin to question my morality,
When I become clueless of my true destiny.
Heaven, may you confirm my spirituality?

These are moments when I need utmost empathy:
I'm weak and hopeless, in solitude 'specially;
Tired of walking, I need someone to carry me,
To refurbish my indomitability.

There are moments when I'm losing my sanity—
These are moments when I need utmost empathy.

May 4, Wednesday
*I Pine for Cherry Blossoms Falling By*
(as inspired by the song "Eyes on Me" by Faye Wong [Final Fantasy VIII OST]
[words by Someya Kazumi, music by Nobuo Uematsu])

I pine for cherry blossoms falling by Kaizougawa River—
A river lined with snowy-white sakura glist'ning forever.
A house nestling three-minute-walk away from it makes me quiver
About something old but special I recently rediscover.

In the prefecture of Mie-ken lies beautiful Yokkaichi-shi,
Where lovely pale-fuchsia cherry blossom trees effloresce each year—
Celebrating the fleeting and ephemeral nature of life.
How I love to be there to join a hanami festivity.

Saraba, mukashi; sayonara, mai katsute koishii.
Gently blown by the morning breeze, five-petaled sakura—so dear!
Scattered across the park, like the thin veils of Winter they're so rife.
This is my last peek at my past; this is my final fantasy.

I pine for cherry blossoms falling by Kaizougawa River——
Saraba, mukashi; sayonara, mai katsute koishii.

May 5, Thursday
*I Wish I Was A*

I wish I was a bird—
Twittering, singing;
Flying, migrating;
Pecking, mating.

I wish I was a bee—
Bumbling, buzzing;
Homing, hiding;
Honey-making.

I wish I was a butterfly—
Fluttering, frolicking;
Nectar-sucking;
Pollinating.

I wish I was a bird.
I wish I really was.

May 6, Friday
*My Brain Is Failing While*

My brain is failing, while
The flow'rs are falling
In May.
My faie,
I pray,
I'll stay
Someday.

My heart is aching, while
The sky is crying
Today.
My faie,
Don't sway
Away,
Okay?

May 7, Saturday
*When the Heart Is*

When the heart is torn,
affection fades,
love escapes.

When the soul's forlorn,
vision retrogrades,
strength escapes.

When enmity is born,
hatred invades,
peace escapes.

When a frown is worn,
smile evades,
laughter escapes.

When the heart is torn,
Enmity is born.

May 8, Saturday
*If Only We Could Spend Our*

If only we could spend our honeymoon in Kashyyyk—
Only you and me—even for a few days or a week,
Together we would climb the broad branches of wroshyr trees;
There, atop, we'd taste a whiff of the forest-planet's breeze;

And we would make love, moaning and growling in Wookiee-speak—
We would ignore all our cares in the world 'til we get weak;
Get lost among the foliage, get drunk with our sacred kiss;
Get locked within each other's arms and legs in perfect bliss.

We'd breathe life into the 'xtension of ourselves in mystique,
And we'd promise to provide him a life that is not bleak.
All these are possible if we believe true love exists;
Together let's weave a real-life fairy tale out of this.

If only we could spend our honeymoon in Kashyyyk,
We'd breathe life into the 'xtension of ourselves in mystique.

May 9, Monday
*Living Alone Away From*

Living alone, away from my loved ones,
I cannot yet see the light at the end.
I smile forcibly each night as moths dance;
But my heart, even mem'ries cannot mend.

Out on my own but shackled to the bones,
A whiff of breeze is worth a bar of gold.
After enduring the pelts of hailstones,
May success come to my door thousandfold.

I'll persevere until I reach my goal.
Regardless I'm now in a virtual gaol,
Someday to my home I'll fly like a fowl;
And on this I promise I'll never fail.

Living alone, away from my loved ones,
I'll persevere until I reach my goal.

May 10, Tuesday
*My Belovèd Never Forget That*

My Belovèd, never forget that the moon shining on me
Is the same satellite casting light on you night after night;
And the distant sun, regardless how pallid it is to me,
Is the same yellow star, there in your blue sky, burning bright.
With this universality, we're therefore never apart.

Never forget that I am the same person I used to be.
Yes, I may have grown older, but I can still fly the same kite.
The way you curve a smile, you carry in your heart the same glee,
And this is the main reason we can still venture the same flight.
With this universality, we're therefore never apart.

Believe in the saying, "If you love somebody, set him free;
If he never returns, the love you shared was ne'er meant to be;
But if, in the end, he returns, that's what we call destiny."

My Belovèd, never forget that the moon shining at night
Is one; as well as the sun, regardless how pallid and bright.

Note: "The Chinese are fond of saying the same moon shines on those who are apart, thus joining them together."—Red Pine, Poems of the Masters: China's Classic Anthology of T'ang and Sung Dynasty Verse (2003, Copper Canyon Press)

May 11, Wednesday
*The Piano Lingers Again Like*

The piano lingers again like in my youthful summers in Better Living*.
The melody in my heart lives as long as love matters; I keep believing.
Regardless if I always begin with C, my verse overdrips, songs persist.
The bliss I find in combining notes with my fingertips I couldn't resist.

The memories every song imparts are treasures that make my life worth living.
Life without melodies is life without memories—this, I'll keep believing.
As long as there're people who believe in love and music, fairy tales exist;
But, why, every time I hear the piano lingers, my heart get lost in a mist?

I may be old, jaded and weary, but the child in me will keep on dreaming.
The old melodies which were so dear to me, to them I will keep on list'ning.
My past—my childhood and youth—which was wrought in music, I sometimes sorely miss;
But the present and my future with you, my Demure—this, we seal with a kiss.

The piano lingers again like in my youthful summers in Better Living.
I may be old, jaded and weary, but the child in me will keep on dreaming.

May 12, Thursday
*Why Tread Unfamiliar Places Just*

Why tread unfamiliar places
Just to meet unfriendly faces?

Why heed heartless people's whims
When I can weave my own dreams?

Why unspeak or bite my tongue
When I can discern their slang?

Why save my pride from dinner
When I would eat it later?

Why seek help from wicked folk?
Because of this heavy yoke?

Why do I have to endure
This? I am no longer sure.

Why, I am having a stroke!
Life is a practical joke!

May 13, Friday
*I'm Caught Again Between*

I'm caught again between two choices.
Wherever I go I hear voices.

Goodbye, Surrey, British Columbia;
Hello, Winnipeg, Manitoba.

But regardless where I go and stay,
From my home I'll always be away.

I know I am courageous and wise,
But I can't renounce whom I despise.

I'm unsure if what they say is true;
Or they're concocting a wicked brew.

I surrender to what I feel's right;
Anyway, soon they'll be out of sight.

I'm caught again between two choices,
Regarding if I'll go or I'll stay.

Additional Note: "Better Living" pertains to Better Living Subdivision in Bicutan, Parañaque City, Philippines, where I used to spend my Summer days in the '80s, at the lovely home of my Lolo Nonong and Lola Charing and their children—my uncles Ricky, Egay, and Edmon and aunts Belen, Edith, Milot, Eloi, and Emma. Many of my wonderful coming-of-age experiences happened there. I also remember how I could spend a whole afternoon in the dining area, reading a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica sitting in the shelf; or an early morning in the living room, tinkering with the old piano, weaving some melodies of my own. The most memorable above all, however, were the countless parties to which Kuya Edmon and his best friends (Tropa '82 and Metrou mobile) brought me...the start of my awareness about Punk Rock and New Wave music. I will never forget those days!

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