train

this is one of my few, amateurish attempts in poetry. I've been fascinated with the metro train culture and found that the train's window could be quite an interesting image to play with. I plan to write some more for fine-tuning. --Kimee


You,

beating the drudgery

of conventional traffic

I, in my escapist tendencies of

living European--

the train, i feel, is a cosmopolitan tryst if not for

the clump of bodies in between us

a sorry shipment of commuters from some bucolic sty,

they with eyebrows seemingly incapable

of hoping beyond their gossip,

elbowing, nudging, bullying me away from you.

i settle for the train's glass window,

the same window through which

we see the same building and sky

the same dreams flashed on glazed billboards overlooking

the same church belltowers greyed and neutered

in spirit and duty.

we see the same trees precious in their intermittence.

We see each other

beholding the same longing and defeat--

the language of the flesh conceding to the language of glass:

Us, brittle reflections warped

by the chill of its infidelity,

how dare it give you an unjust remaking of my beauty,

deprive you with its thoughtless obligation of freezing the fire in my gaze.

the train speeds off

you beating traffic; I, living European.

we battle the same bodies in between us, we chase the same dreams.

but as parallel trains are fated never to meet and touch,

Here we are.

suffering the impotent symmetry of restraint.

counting on glass, lusting on glass,

waiting till we finally get off the same stop.

Poetry: My Catharsis

[ Catharsis - n. emotional and spiritual cleansing or purgation experienced by one who witnessed the rise and fall of a hero or heroine in a tragic play]

This poem is inspired by all the tragic heroes and heroines who have brought me face to face with my own hubris... - H.P. Atilano


My Catharsis


Because you owe me my catharsis, you,
Beautiful Ones, must die.
For as long as your inevitable fall
is an obligatory part of your story,
You will be my heroes: inherently good,
yet flawed.
My life-mentors, teach me empathy;
let hubris take its course
And teach me humility -- that even a god-
like beauty like you could fall.
My heroes, for you I will carve epitaphs
to immortalize you:

"Here lies Oedipus, King of Thebes, blind
'til the very end..."

"The Moor of Venice herein rests; Deceit and
Gullibility, his only friends..."

"Antigone, defender of the dead; devoted sister,
alone in death..."

...and I will save my tears for the epiphany,
for when Truth strikes its deadly blow;
...and I will shed those tears to wash off my
own hubris to give your death some worth.


Author's Note: Presumably, the persona here is addressing the tragic heroes in a sort of dramatic monologue and gives his/her definition of catharsis.

WELCOME BLOGFELLOWS!

Welcome to the club, literatis!

Quills and Parchment is meant to be a group blog created for a chosen few -- former students in my literature classes with exemplary passion for literature, fellow creative writers, and aspiring poets and fictionists. The aim of this blog is to encourage intellectual discourse among young aspiring writers and voracious readers on their own writing and reading experiences, as well as hone and nurture their craft by drawing inspiration from each other.

Officially created today, 12 April 2008, Quills and Parchment is more than just a group blog; it is a fellowship. Thus, the moment you are given full access to this blog, you officially become a blogfellow. More than the username and password, what would truly induct you into this exclusive on-line fellowship is your passion for writing and reading.

You get to publish your work (poetry, prose, proem...) on this blog, while the rest of the blogfellows are invited to post their comments and constructive objective criticisms. You may also share a published poem or work of fiction that you find truly inspiring and give your evaluation of the book or personal reading of the poem. We also get to discuss film adaptations of certain literary works.

Once again, welcome blogfellows.

Carpe diem!

h.