How I Killed Pablo Neruda

Some people should know by now that I'm not really a music person (yes, despite the fact that I work for, get this, a rock magazine). What most people don't know however is that I'm not really a poetry person. Good poetry just doesn't elicit the same reaction a good story would. And while there are some poetry pieces which are heartfelt and I really appreciate much, they're more often the short ones, especially haikus.

Did I mention I have no ear for poetry?

I think the worst experience (for other people) was during one LitSoc (Literary Society, an org in Ateneo) meeting, we had a poetry reading session and I was one of the luckless freshmen present who was asked to read Pablo Neruda poems. Monotone doesn't even begin to describe how I read it (it's also a complaint my call center trainers had). It was so bad that Setsuna, an officer and moderator for that event, had to cut me off and stop me to spare the rest as I butchered one of Pablo Neruda's poems.

Moral of the story? Don't make me read poems out loud!

Old Poems

I was going through some old stuff (since I seldom throw things away, except when they're wet and dusty and overtaking book space) and I found some old poems of mine from 2001. It's really a pain to read them because they're awful, and makes you wonder what I was thinking back then (no, I know exactly what I was thinking back then). At the risk of further humiliation, here's some of them. They're supposed to be Shakespearean sonnets, but apparently, I have no ear for iambs (or trochets for that matter). You'd think I'd write these sonnets for my crush, but no, these poems have dedications to them, and it ain't my crush. Apparently I wrote this for some friends of mine in college.

Vision of An Angel (In retrospect, that's an awful title.)

In your presence I stare at disbelief,
Not knowing mortals could perceive such grace.
Handsome yet humble features bring relief,
To any who sees your beautiful face.

Rare it is to behold such innocence,
That even the most proud learn to be meek.
Your flight fills my soul with a pestilence,
Incurable for it is you I seek.

I am fortunate to have caught a glimpse,
For artists could never do you justice.
Disbelief would be a timeless eclipse,
Filling my heart with nothing but malice.

As you unfurl your wings to say goodbye,
I save up my tears for the day I die.

Chocolates

With a variety of concoctions,
I do not know which I should consume next.
Each stirs my insatiable emotions,
Every bite surpassing what I expect.

Should I choose one that is soft and tender,
Or one coated with chewy nuts and glace?
My whetted appetite makes me wonder,
If I could eat it all, leaving no trace.

But I am confident in what I choose,
For it will be nonetheless chocolate.
In picking one I have nothing to lose,
Saving the others for a future date.

Its disappearance gives me much to fear,
How fortunate I am to have it here.