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Ihuyvghf

The poem describes a traveler who comes upon a misty river early in the morning and uses a conch shell to summon the boatman to take him across. However, the boatman hesitates to set off until the traveler remembers what he was taught and drops a silver coin into the boatman's open palm as payment. Once paid, the boatman poles the boat across the soundless river, taking the traveler to the other side where he will unload yet another stranger.

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25 views

Ihuyvghf

The poem describes a traveler who comes upon a misty river early in the morning and uses a conch shell to summon the boatman to take him across. However, the boatman hesitates to set off until the traveler remembers what he was taught and drops a silver coin into the boatman's open palm as payment. Once paid, the boatman poles the boat across the soundless river, taking the traveler to the other side where he will unload yet another stranger.

Uploaded by

jovenni co
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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OZYMANDIAS

Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,

The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains: round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away


Sonnet 116
By William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments, love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickles compass come,

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom:

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


Still I Rise Don’t you take it awful hard
By Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014 ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies, You may shoot me with your words,
You may trod me in the very dirt You may cut me with your eyes,
But still, like dust, I’ll rise. You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom? Out of the huts of history’s shame
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells I rise
Pumping in my living room. Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
Just like moons and like suns, I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
With the certainty of tides, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Did you want to see me broken? Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bowed head and lowered eyes? I rise
Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
Weakened by my soulful cries? I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
Does my haughtiness offend you? I rise
I rise
Origami
Marjorie Evasco Pernia

This word unfolds, gathers up wind

To speed the crane's flight

North of my sun to you.

I am shaping this poem

Out of paper, folding

Distances between our seasons.

This poem is a crane.

When its wings unfold,

The paper will be pure and empty


Bonsai
Edith Tiempo

All that I love


I fold over once
And once again
And keep in a box
Or a slit in a hollow post
Or in my shoe

All that I love?

Why, yes but for the moment-


And for all time, both.
Something that folds and keeps easy,
son"s note, or dad"s one gaudy tie,
A roto picture of a young queen
A blue Indian shawl, even
A money bill.

its utter sublimation,


A feat, this heart"s control
moment to moment
to scale all love down
to a cupped hand"s size.

till seashells are broken pieces


fron god’s own bright teeth,
All life and love are real
things you can run and
breathless hand over
to the merest child
Liham ni Pinay mula sa Brunei Nagpapadala ng dolyar at pasalubong.
Nakakahinga na ako ngayon nang maluwag,
Ako’y guro, asawa at ina. Walang susi ang bibig, ang isip ay bukas.
Isang babae-- napapagal sa pagiging babae. Aaminin kong ako’y nangungulila
Itinakda ng kabahaging Ngunit sariling kape ko na ang tinitimpla.
Masumpa sa walis, labada’t oyayi Nag-aabang ako ng sulat sa tarangkaha’t
Kahit may propesyo’t kumikita ng salapi. pinto,
Iyo’t iyon din ang ruta ng araw-araw— Sa telepono’y nabubusog ang puso.
Kabagutang nakalatag sa kahabaan Umiiyak ako noong una,
Ng bahay at paaralan, Nagagamot pala ang lahat sa pagbabasa.
Ng kusina’t higaan.
May karapatan ba akong magmukmok? Ito lamang ang sagot,
Saan ako tatakbo kung ako’y malungkot? Bayaang lalaki ang maglaba ng kumot.
May beerhouse at massage parlor na Hinahatdan ko siya ng brief at tuwalya sa
tambayan banyo,
Ang kabiyak kong nag-aasam, Inaaliw kung mainit ang ulo.
Nasa bintana ako’t maghihintay. Wala siyang paliwanag
Nagbabaga ang katawan ko sa paghahanap, Kung bakit hindi siya umuwi magdamag,
May krus ang dila ko’t di makapangusap. Ngunit kunot na kunot ang kanyang noo
Humihingi ng tinapay ang mga anak ko, Kapag umaalis ako ng Linggo.
Itinotodo ko ang bolyum ng radyo. Ayaw niya ng galunggong at saluyot
Napagod yata ako’t nanghinawa, Kahit pipis ang sobreng inabot,
Nagsikap mangibang-lupa. Ibig pa yatang maghimala ako ng ulam
Noon ako nanaginip na nakapantalon, Kahit ang pangrenta’y laging kulang.

Ang tulang “Liham ni Pinay Mula sa Brunei” ay gumagamit ng teoryang feminism kung saan
ang babae sa tula ay hindi nakatulad ng mga babae noong unang panahon. Ipinakikita ng tula ang
damdamin ng babae sa pantay na paghahati ngresponsibilidad ng ama at ina ng tahanan.
Nakapamumulat din ang akda sapagkat nakikita ng mga mambabasa, kababaihan mano
kalalakihan ang damdaming sinisikil ng maraming babae sa double standard na kalakaran sa
ating lipunan. Sa babae nakaatanghalos lahat ng responsibilidad sa pamilya sa kabila ng kanyang
pagtratrabaho sa labas ng tahanan upang mapaghusto ang kita ngpamilya. Inaasahang ang mga
kababaihang makakabasa nito ay matutong magsalita at ipaglaban ang kanilang
karapatansamantala, ang mga kalalakihan naman ay magiging higit na makatwiran at gagawa ng
nararapat upang maitaguyod angpagkakapareho ng tao anuman ang kasarian
Liham ni Pinay mula sa Brunei
ELynia Ruth S. Mabanglo

Ako’y guro, asawa at ina.

Isang babae--pupol ng pabango, pulbos at seda,

Kaulayaw ng batya, kaldero at kama.

Napagod yata ako’t nanghinawa,

Nagsikap mangibang-lupa.

Iyo’t iyon din ang lalaking umuupo sa kabisera,

Nagbabasa ng diyaryo uma-umaga.

Naghihintay siya ng kape

At naninigarilyo,

Habang kagkag ako sa pagitan ng kuna at libro,

Nagpapahid ng lipstick at nagpapatulo ng gripo.

Hindi siya nag-aangat ng mukha

Umaaso man ang kawali o umiingit ang bata


Crossing the River
by Dr. Anthony Tan

Came upon a river shrouded in mist.


Too early for bird call, or wing beat,
Too early even for wind.
A giant conch shell on a beaded string
Hung on the branch of a leafless tree.
it belonged to the boatman of the river.
With little energy I blew it long and thin,
Remembering what I had been taught,
Cupping it between my delicate hands.
On the edge of that feeble call
An apparition darkened the thick mist.
Slowly the bow emerged in the hush of dawn.
Beckoned me to his boat. Didn't tell him
Where to and he didn't ask, as if
My destination were already foreknown
He didn't paddle. He hesitated.
He waited as if he had forgotten something.
Looked me straight in the eye.
When I didnt't respond immediately,
he opened a bony hand,
The bwhite palm trembling with greed.
The other hand gripped the head of a long pole.
then I remembered what I had been taught:
I dropped a silver coin into his open palm.
He gripped it, dropped it into a bulging purse
That was tightly sewn to his leather belt.
the drop of silver on silver
Was the only sound in the soundless mist.
Only then did a fugitive grin light up his face.
Only then did he strike
The murky water in the pole.
There was no one to say goodbye to.
No friends. No kinsmen. No lovers.
the gurgle int he wake took the place of words.
The boat moved toward the other bank, where
He had unloaded his boat of so many strangers.

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