Eduardo
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Everything posted by Eduardo
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Meetings, In reading this, you will recognize yourselves. Love, Amour. Thanks, Merci beaucoup. Attorney and the other, an Architect. A barrister she was, a genteel giant with some powerful skills. With a diploma awarded from one of London
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Milarepa, Sorcerer, Murderer and Saint . . . A Tibetan Monk's story released very recently herein the USA cinema. Of course, the movie could only cover some basics of his life. The real fire is within his life itself.
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After a couple of weeks on a european journey, pearls are in the making. Rizal's genius shone through the pages in these centers of higher learning visited. Delighted to be back, in one of the most wonderful centers of higher learning, United States. Bientot, soon will be posting again, Ingat, Eduardo Postscriptum: Vic, Maraming salamat. For providing this forum, know it is a lot of work, from experience!!!
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For a Tunay Kayumangging The intellectual cistern was full, and the pristine clear emerald ocean spoke in a language of its own. Celestine light burst forth upon ocean as well as the skies, while tranquil breeze swept through the night. Silently eyes were speaking, though amidst a circle of friends. Words were futile that night. Unconstrained was all life-giving force. Science being her choice, an endless summer was to prescience that communion. Pearls were in the making, while oceans and mountains yearned. Copyright, May 28, 2007 Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, National City, CA
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agree, brilliant
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Sobre un mar inmenso bailaba los rayos del sol, evaporando toda impureza se elevaba el alma a regiones inimaginables, como una fragrancia dulce, pero extrajera. La pluma, delineando las fronteras de sus labios, y deseando momentos imaginables m?s cercanas, brotaba tinta pulsadas a latidos universales. Un silencio, que solamente su aliento pudo llenar, observ?o "hablame en espanol . . ." Y la primavera configurando la noche la llenaba sutilmente de estrellas y ella, sin saber . . . Registrada, Enero 20, 2007. Eduardo A. Cong Poeta y dramaturgo, Olas de un mar inmenso; Vagues d'un mer de inmense Mexico. D. F.
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Still From above her smooth cinnamon skin, a streaming flow of moisture kept pouring, and the windows of the soul, from the stress, remained untouched by the pain. Still, she did not know. If her face had given the appearance of an elder, she did not know. Were these symptomatic signs of pain too? In her eyes, the constellation still shone and she did not know. She just sat on painted red curb of the sidewalk, the read meaning "no parking," just to tear. Obviously, pain was being forged, in the midst of a distressing dialogue. In the furnace of lifes trials, character began to be revealed and shaped. This fact she did not know. Still, this lyre remembered her full name and acknowledging his Presence, she smiled . . . . From her soul, took the tears and drew a star filled celestial awning above her crown. The lyre?s spirit stood invisibly beside her and in that sustaining moment, filled the fountain of her tears to write this night. Remembered her full name, even in distant places and time where the pen had traveled, she was unable to erase it. This recollection did not phase her and to her willingness to help, he remained silent. He had to be sure, for she unwittingly unleashed a series of oversea journeys that were in the making. Still, she did not know. He was in her choreographic genius and she was never aware of his intensity . . . . Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, California, USA. Sunday, July 16, 2006 Sa Karamihan ng panahon, even in the absence of words, am as near to this text as your eyes, tunay kayumanging kaligatan. Merci mon amie.
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Have not being this busy in years! However, let me quote from a ad, sent by the Leadership Institute, University of San Diego, CA. USA. Similar to Ateneo, in a Jesuit persuasion, a universal observation: "We are all meant to shine, as children do . . . And as we let our own light shine, we consciously give other people permission to do the same thing . . ." Marianne Williamson, in "A Journey of Love . . ." Maraming Salamat kaibigan! Sincerement, mon ami, edouard Ps. Have some poems that are forthcoming, because, that is my journey too; please, patience . . . merci beaucoup! Bientot! <<
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Hey Kaibigan, This website is in the Philippines and quite frankly, I would love to have some Pinoys and Pinays poets do their thing herein. They are so talented you will not believe, my writings pales besides theirs. However, very recently the Tagaytay 5, a group of poets have been arrested and charged on rebellion for writing and publishing their poetry on behalf of the TRUTH. Much of what I have atempted to do is to encourage those to write, by writing, yet THEIR SILENCE SPEAKS LOUDER THAN WORDS. . . We may have the protection of the United Kingdom and United States of America, but these poets must live and survive herein their system. Reading in between these lines, and you will know why, there is that reluctance, to share. This is just one dimension. The other level is, some people are caught up in the social stratification arena. Example, if you graduate from an elite university, you can only associate with an elitist group. Though this may have nothing to do with poetry; it is more in the idea that, "culture is the blueprint for behavior." They may share with what they consider a serious literary journal . . . Will, however, extend that invitation to all, known poets, here in USA, and abroad . . . Great pictures, Mindanao has that moslem mystique, that dates all the way back to Lapu Lapu! Invincible Spirit!!! Next year, Europa, conte partiro . . . Thanks to you, Lonvig and Chai, it is still floating, am just an humble poet, literally pitching in, :-) . . .
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Haiku to life's journey. Sunsets and rises silence sinks in, absence. Distant shores real, You . . . Red cospuscles dance life courses in the pathway. Rivers embrace life. Travels invites a condition of the mind. More than a passport. Copyright, June 3, 2006 Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, San Diego, CA. USA.
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1 HAIKU Cradled silhouette while rain pours incessantly showers on your skin . . . Copyright, Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
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Chai, that poem by Nichols is not only rich in imageries, but layered with so many meanings. Came recently from a poetry reading at a Cultural Center on the border in Tijuana, Mexico. All students of communications, am positive, would be aware of the dynamics involved. Intercultural communications is rich with imageries, symbolism, and significance. Quite challenging and exciting field . . . Excellent memory! Thanks, Eduardo
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Dr. Pierre Telhard de Chardin, Jesuit, Theologian, Poet, Physical Anthropologist, observed: "After we have mastered the waves, tides and graivity, we shall harness for god, the energies of love. Then, for the second time in the history of mankind, we would have discovered fire." It is my hope that hese writings, immersed in the light of research, brings us near that fire, for the second time, in history.
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This is just a test . . . Problems in posting. Alhambra . . . Alhambra, you shone above. All, Andalucian cities had seen. Your splendor amidst the thick tropical foliage surrounding your castle, The carefully engineered irrigation system of pools and waterfalls, the combined sustaining pillars and towers, and even channels were designed to keep you eternally a garden in the future of mankind?s children mind . . . We had a story to tell, and across the Gibraltar we chose to tell it. From afar, for posterity to know we were then, very ancient souls . . . The wizardry you caste on the entire Europe, was equaled by none given the time you appeared. In a Moslem world of your own, A god and prophet of your own, you Africa, were the cradle of mankind?s birth and in this fact, you shone. Bienvenue, Adam and Eve . . . The distinctions and subtleties in semantics, whether of Moorish, Arab, and Jewish hues, in which your genius shone for us to know that you were Unequaled then, and leaving ample documentary records to testify of your genius . . . We had a story to tell . . . While had been walking the paved streets of cobbled stone you created, the tolerance you accepted as a way of life, from Christians and Berber?s faith, alike . . . Inhaling of the tree?s moisture in this walk, I heard the loud waterfalls stream down the channels you created, For all to enjoy, as you did yesterday. The seventh century was a the creation in ?Europa,? Of another civilizing wave, while in a motion-filled stream, the symbols you created remains, after centuries of your absence, your tactful presence for generations and generations on mankind?s mind . . . We had a documented story to share. It is no mistake upon entering C?rdoba, Spain, we find the greeting: ?The City of the Patrimony of mankind? Copyright, Monday, October 27, 2003. Eduardo A. Cong. Poet and playwright. Granada, Spain.
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Maraming Salamat, Oftentimes, with the gift to describe with so many words, the many shades of light, and its complementing parts, darkness. Find myself speechless, kaibigan. Am humbled, enjoined hands, and extending a bow, proffer to you, and all, NAMASTE. Postscriptum: Originally means, I honor the divine in you.
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transl. Celestine Fire 3. For Lenora W. The Initiate arrived in a city that never sleeps, New York City. During the journey, the constant rumble of the plane filled the hours with spinning memories of his youth, of his childhood, and amazingly enough, it came very fast. The scenery around was entirely white and full of clouds. So bright were these clouds that in the absence of dark shades, were blinding. Waiting, from a child now a woman, was an immense distance. Her free Spirit, in a weak temple, waited for her defense before a contemporary inquisition . . . The child, though at present a woman, patiently sat in her innocence. On the horizon were those gigantic silhouetted apocalyptic horse riders from destiny. They were in a strategic circle against her free Spirit and a weakened vessel by the circumstances and time. Upon the appearance of the initiate, they remained in their circle, and just circled around. For reasons unknown, its leader did not come near, and the remainder dared not peek over for their prize in this mission. While hope filled the emptiness and darkness, like the mist from heaven, rain it was not. Just the tears of a compassionate Initiate, in each tear, were the reflections of an intense light. Firefly, it was not. Moon, it was not. It was neither the Sun, Simply a Celestine light . . . Copyright, February 3, 2006. Eduardo A. Cong. Poet and playwright, New York, N.Y. USA.
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Fuego Celestino 3. Para Lenora W. El Iniciante lleg? a la ciudad que nunca duerme, Nueva York. Durante el viaje, el rumbido constante del avi?n, llen? las horas del viaje con memorias oscilantes de su juventud, de sus a?os de mocedad y asombrosamanete, ese viaje lleg? a una velocidad incre?blemente r?pida. El pasaje a su alrededor, enteramente blanca y llena de nubes. Nubes tan resplancecientes que cegaban, en la ausencia de lentes oscuras, cegaban completamente. Esperando, de ni?a a mujer, esper? a una distancia inmensa. Su esp?ritu libre, en un santuario d?bil, esper? su defensa ante una inquisici?n contempor?nea. La ni?a, a?nque en el presente mujer, esper? en una inocencia. Apareciendo en el horizonte, jinetes gigantesco del destino apocal?ptico perfilandose contra un espiritu libre, en u santuario debilitado por las circunstancias y el tiempo. Al ver al Iniciante, solamente cabalgaron, en compaňia, a su alrededor. Por razones inexplicables, el l?der no se acerc?, ni su compaňia atrevieron asomar una mirada, en esta misi?n. Mientras que la esperanza llenaba el vac?o y la oscuridad. Como gotas de agua que brotaban del cielo, lluvia no era, solamente l?grimas compasionante del Iniciante, en cada gota, reflejaba una luz intensa. Luci?rnaga no era. Luna no era. Sol tampoco, Simplementa, una la luz Celestina . . . Copyright, Febrero 3, 2006 Eduardo A. Cong Poeta y dramaturgo, Nueva York, N. Y. E. U. Revisado Febrero 4, 2006
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Wushu, Kung fu is like oceans crashing against the rocks, tidal waves rising into the sky, Tsunamis . . . So much power, and grace in those fluid movements, aspects of aspects . . . Tai Chi Ch?uan, is gentle as the clouds in heavens, and as fluids as the rivers. Rising far beyond the waves, in depth and breadth, it remains. Tai Chi Ch?uan seems to have begun from pure rain, in heavens, touching the earth?s mountains first. Its journey, traversing the lands of the wealthy and the humblest of souls, having to fertilize the lives of so many. Finally, giving freely of its wisdom to the oceans of the world . . . Choices being made on every dawn of the soul, on the wings of a dragonfly she danced, whispering into the universe . . . Copyright, January 30, 2006. Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, Balboa Park, San Diego, CA. USA. Revised on February 3, 2006.
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Coreograf?a en el Cielo. For Lisa S. Tunay Kayumangin Kaligatan, Her feet were as light as the clouds in heavens, and if eagles were in soaring flight, she seemed to have danced upon more than a surface of a tree, perhaps, its leaves. The music, with its percussions beats, rhythmically shared steps of heartfelt beats. Senza catene, in her dance, as the waves, combing through the sands of Palawan beaches. Puerto Princesa was just a short distance away and still yet, she remained silent to the keys of these thoughts. Upon a notebook, as an island, she remained, unwittingly or is it witting, silent? She was in her silence, as the pen soared in flight, focused and drawn solemnly to the sounds of heartfelt beats, percussively above the waves she appears, magically, to have been walking on. Culture being the blue print for behavior, lighting needed to lead for the percussions of the thunder. Intermittent thoughts conceived was seen and heard while walking between worlds, yet wings needed to rise above the oceans of the world, and for the initiate?s soaring to be complete, Wind and Oceans meet . . . Copyright, January 21, 2006. Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, San Diego, CA. USA.
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Costa del Sol. Marbella, Rinconcillo y Estepona, sobre tus orillas y playas camin?. Cu?n hermosa eran tus distantes arenas. Sentado sobre una roca al pies del Mediterr?neo, bajo una noche llena de estrellas, la memoria de tu sonrisa en una flor llev?. En esa ausencia, tu palpitantemente presencia, llen? esta noche de tu silencio tan permanente como estas arenas de Marbella. Dando hogar al vac?o en estas playas del Mediterr?neo, tus labios y tu voz. Cada vez, que a su alrededor paseaba, en t? pensaba. Aunque me llenas de memorias en cada grano de arena, En t?, poesia ve?a. Si por casualidad hall? una flor entre lo oscuro de tu cabellera, y tus orejas, es porque de tus labios, tu sonrisas, llenaron mi noche de la fragrancia tuya como una flor. Copyright, Monday, October 27, 2003 Eduardo A. Cong, Poet and playwright, Algeciras, Spain.
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My Lai, March 16, 1968. This is written posthumously for Hugh Thompson, Lawrence Colburn And Glenn Andreotta. Thundering from below and drowning the blades of the silver bird spiraling wing above was the sound of bullets. From above, the view of elders, women and children, all civilians, fleeing in desperation. As the carnage of bullets kept tumbling down human lives, into the field below. Aflame were the straw huts spewing black smoke to the skies, and to a camouflaged silver bird, it was sign for help. So much smoke filling the lungs, just like the twin towers which were symbolic targets with our loved ones completely unawares, at home, of the external bridges our bureaucrats had burned to ashes. Darkness wore so many faces, then and now . . . Then, therein short distances from the rice patties were those heat-seeking missiles pointing at obvious noncombatants, similar to the infernal fire that had devoured those towers in cincture with volcanic heat, at obvious innocent lives. Darkness wore so many faces, then and now . . . We knew better. We had been trained in higher standards. Military Conduct, Geneva Convention, and treatment of prisoners had protocols in documents. In light of the above, one courageous soldier lead. In so doing, restored dignity to our troops during Indochina . In view of this scene, the silver bird momentarily kept silent, as if to give sounds to the voices of mothers and children screaming from their ground zero. Spiraling wings slowed down, the silver bird descent in the midst of the fire. It was not bullet proof, but conscience proof of the lives at risk on the other side of her. Instinctually, the effort was to protect, shelter against humanity callousness, and the ensuing carnage. The silver bird gunner pointing his higher power with enough arsenals to light the dawn, and halt the continuing slaughter. One humble giant, single-handedly went to light the way. Man, the creator of the most astonishing mechanical accomplishment of the century was unable to harness, that kindled flame burning in all life, its love . . . Complete obscurity, one and the same, My Lai and New York City, touching thousands of lives, for generations to come of so many friends . . . New York City's ground zero memoirs may have invoked the lines, but it was My Lai's hero passing, a torch of those times, a hero's courage that shone, and shaped these thoughts . . . During My Lai, it was not, a symbolic target destruction. It was as real as the keys of this notebook, with each keystroke, its touching motion creating the symbols of communications, the field was catching the lives tumbled by the arsenal. Just as the concrete pavement was catching those who took flight, from below the 101st floor of the Twin Towers . . . In flight, so many souls were released during My Lai and the Twin Towers . . . Copyright, January 9, 2006 Eduardo A. Cong Poet and playwright, San Diego, CA. USA As a student of history, cognizant of French and USA incursion in Vietnam, and the recent passing of Hugh Thompson, this was written . . .
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"After we have mastered the waves, tides and gravity, we shall harness for god, the energies of love. Then, for the second time in the history of mankind, we would have discovered fire." Dr. Pierre Teilhard deChardin, Jesuit priest, Physical Anthropologist, Poet, Theologian, Philosopher, etc. For the readers, thanks! Am continually humbled in the interests given these thoughts, wings. As soon as time permits, will have an active website. Victor, my UK/Philippines' best kaibigan has beeen more than generous in allowing these expressions, in all of its flaws. Thanks, Merci, Gracias, Salamat, Xie_xie! Eduardo A. Cong. Poet and playwright.
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Piel Canela Para Lisa S. "Tunay Kayumangin Kaligatan." En tu Piel Canela, canto al tr?pico de las Filipinas, y aunque a una distancia de ella, me llen?ste la pluma de tinta. Al f?n, pude escribir esa tarde. Y, porque fuiste la tinta, pude yo, escribir. . . Las palomas callejeras del centro de Manila ten?an que cederte el paso, y yo, crearte un pasaje. . . Tu sonrisa, casi celestial, vest?a una noche llena de estrellas luminosamente placenteras. A?nque en c?rculos ajenos a tu voluntad, te prohibieron hablar, y de peor, estar con el poeta, ?ang makata.? Como las estrellas, que despiertan en el oscuro vientre de la noche; quise que despertaras. Entre los comentarios est?riles, el desierto de ?amistades,? que llen? tus o?dos. Decidir, entre luz y oscuridad, luz en existencia por necesidad de la otra, siendo partes de la misma energ?a Llevar?an a tus puertas, la plena conciencia de luz. Y el poeta, ?ang makata,? simplemente esperar, en fantasia . . . Copyright, August 15, 2005. Eduardo A. Cong. Poet and playwright, Balboa Park, San Diego, CA; USA.
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Celestine Fire II Another winter in New York City, as seasons from the sun, defined a region. La Guardia seemed so different this time, as she anticipated a traveler?s arrival. This journey was never new. It had been done in nano seconds of her echo, ?when is your vacation?? The soul traveled then as now, in dimensions unknown to the common mind. Wherein distance, time and regions are all the same. The Initiate arrival recessed destiny of the Apocalypse rider . . . Reciprocal respect was in place for this cause and effect relationship. The circle was complete. Copyright, December 30, 2005 Eduardo A. Cong. Poet and playwright. New York. N. Y. USA.
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