The flame stands straight
On a candle burning itself
In stillness of the night;
An old-authored book at the right
Side imitates the fate
Of a beggar's palms
Waiting for alms;
The candle and the book
Lie on the same nook
In the same room
Under the same roof;
The bitter air outside
Evolves into wind;
It permeates the bamboo walls
That keep nothing fake or false
(For there's nothing to hide);
Unable to read
It turns the pages;
Without a wish
It blows the flame out to darkness.
BINABASA MO ANG
Kurit and Other Poems
ŞiirA poem is partly like a recipe. A poet has to have a cupful of experiences, a spoonful of creativity, a tinge of inspiration, and a bit of solitude. These pieces are combined and mixed without any external stirring but by a mere desire for self-expr...