Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Thanks to You

Thanks To You
 
intro
A G#m F#m E,A G#m F#m F#m

verse
E G#m F#m B (2x),C#m G#m F#m B(2x) - E
 
Thank you for teaching me how to love 
Showing me what the world means 
What I've been dreamin' of 
And now I know, there is nothing that I could not do 
Thanks to You 

For teaching me how to feel 
Showing me my emotions 
Letting me know what's real 
From what is not 
What I've got is more that I'd ever hoped for 
And a lot of what I hope for is 
Thanks to you 


Chorus 
A E (3x) F#m B
No mountain, no valley 
No time, no space 
No heartache, no heartbreak 
No fall from grace 
Can't stop me from believing 
That my love will pull me through 
Thanks to You 


E G#m F#m B (2x),C#m G#m F#m B(2x) - E

Chorus
A E (3x) F#m B

No mountain, no valley 
No time, no space 
No heartache, no heartbreak 
No fall from grace 
Can't stop me from believing 
That my love will pull me through 
Thanks to You 

transpo stanza 
F#m Bbm G#m C#(2x), Ebm Bbm G#m C# (2x) F#m,

For teaching me how to live 
Putting things in perspective 
Teaching me how to give 
And how to take 
No mistake 
We were put here together 
And if I breakdown 
Forgive me but it's true 
That I'm aching with the love I feel inside 
Thanks to You 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, August 30, 2013

You are my Sunrise



You are my Sunrise

This morning I saw the birth of a sunrise like I have never seen before
The orange haze on the clouds giving away what was to come
The tip of this fiery body slowly emerging from beneath the horizon
A powerful event that marked the beginning for some and the end for others

In the midst of all of this my mind kept wandering to you
Damn, one more moment that I wish I could share with you
One more moment that I want you to feel, to have, to live with me
Far too soon it becomes too intense; I close my eyes but I can still see

My heart felt like it was on fire, just like my eyes
I felt all the love I have felt in a lifetime at this single point in time
It was as if I was overdosing on something, overdosing on love
I swallowed, desperately trying to clear my throat

I can see the glow around you, the fiery person that you are
So quietly beautify, but so intense when you want to be
So warm to my heart, so hot to my touch, so life-giving to my soul
You are my sunrise

(c) 2007 by Gerard C Johnson

http://www.everypoet.net/poetry/blogs/gcj/you_are_my_sunrise

Sunday, April 14, 2013

The Man with the Hoe

After all these years, All you can remember are the songs and poems you memorized. Some hate repetitions.So I dare you, read this once and memorize. Can you? The key to perfection is repetition. Want to acquire a skill, and be a master, therefore do it repeatedly.

The Man with the Hoe by Edwin Markham
Third Year English subject
Santa Cruz Academy
Zambales, PHL
Year 1992
Teacher: Ms. Patricia Marty

http://www.vggallery.com/painting/p_0648.htm

The Man With The Hoe by Edwin Markham


Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes.
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?

Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this —
More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed —
More filled with signs and portents for the soul —
More fraught with menace to the universe.

What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in the aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned, and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world.
A protest that is also a prophecy.

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream,
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands
How will the Future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings —
With those who shaped him to the thing he is —
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world.
After the silence of the centuries?



Life was hard, love was easy

Magdalena does not know when Julian will die, but she knows it is soon. It is a constant awareness. There is no forgetting it. Maybe it will take months. Maybe years. She does not know, but she is certain she will be left alone. She is glad she found him, glad she loved him, and when the last of his sunsets are gone, she will wait under the tarp of a tent that hunkers square across the sea, for all the other sunsets that he will miss while she misses him. - Rappler.com


Life was hard, love was easy
Patricia Evangelista and Carlo Gabuco
Life was hard, Love was Easy

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Blonde and Blue Eyes


Pinay wins it big in London
 
By Alfred Yuson
The Philippine Star 05/16/2004
 

Patricia Evangelista, a 19-year-old, Mass Communications sophomore of University of the Philippines(UP)-Diliman, did the country proud Friday night by besting 59 other student contestants from 37 countries in the 2004 International Public Speaking competition conducted by the English Speaking Union (ESU) in London.

She triumphed over a field of exactly 60 speakers from all over the English-speaking world, including the United States, United Kingdom and Australia, reported Maranan.

The board of judges‚ decision was unanimous, according to contest chairman Brian Hanharan of the British Broadcasting Corp. (BBC).

 

PATRICIA'S SHORT SPEECH WORTH READING....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 

BLONDE AND BLUE EYES
 

When I was little, I wanted what many Filipino¬?children all over the country wanted. I wanted to be blond, blue-eyed, and white.

I thought -- if I just wished hard enough and was good enough, I'd wake up on Christmas morning with snow outside my window and freckles across my nose!

More than four centuries under western domination does that to you. I have sixteen cousins. In a couple of years, there will just be five of us left in the Philippines, the rest will have gone abroad in search of "greener pastures." It's not just an anomaly; it's a trend;  the Filipino diaspora. Today, about eight million Filipinos are scattered around the world.


There are those who disapprove of Filipinos who choose to leave. I used to. Maybe this is a natural reaction of someone who was left behind, smiling for family pictures that get emptier with each succeeding year. Desertion, I called it. My country is a land that has perpetually fought for the freedom to be itself.Our heroes offered  their lives in the struggle against the Spanish,the Japanese, the Americans. To pack up and deny that identity is tantamount to spitting on that sacrifice.

Or is it? I don't think so, not anymore. True, there is no denying this phenomenon, aided by the fact that what was once the other side of the world is now a twelve-hour plane ride away. But this is a borderless world, where no individual can claim to be purely from where¬he is now.  My mother is of Chinese descent, my father is a quarter Spanish, and I call myself a pure Filipino-a hybrid of sorts resulting from a combination of cultures.

Each square mile anywhere in the world is made up of people of different ethnicities, with national identities and individual personalities. Because of this, each square mile is already a microcosm of the world. In as much as this blessed spot that is England is the world, so is my neighborhood back home.

Seen this way, the Filipino Diaspora, or any sort of dispersal of populations, is not as ominous as so many claim. It must be understood. I come from a Third World country, one that is still trying mightily to get back on its feet after many years of dictatorship. But we shall make it, given more time. Especially now, when we have thousands of eager young minds who graduate from college every year. They have skills. They need jobs. We cannot absorb them all.

A borderless world presents a bigger opportunity, yet one that is not so much abandonment but an extension of identity. Even as we take, we give back. We are the 40,000 skilled nurses who support the UK's National Health Service. We are the quarter-of-a-million seafarers manning most of the world's commercial ships.We are your software engineers in Ireland, your construction
workers in the Middle East, your doctors and caregivers in North America, and, your musical artists in London's West End.
 

Nationalism isn't bound by time or place. People from other nations migrate to create new nations, yet still remain essentially who they are. British society is itself an example of a multi-cultural nation, a melting pot of races, religions,arts and cultures. We are, indeed, in a borderless world!

Leaving sometimes isn't a matter of choice. It's coming back that is. The Hobbits of the shire traveled all over Middle-Earth, but they chose to come home, richer in every sense of the word. We call people like these balikbayans or the 'returnees'-- those who followed their dream, yet choose to return and share their mature talents and good fortune.

In a few years, I may take advantage of whatever opportunities come my way. But I will come home. A borderless world doesn't preclude the idea of a home. I'm a Filipino, and I'll always be one. It isn't about just geography; it isn't about boundaries. It's about giving back to the country that shaped me.

And that's going to be more important to me than seeing snow outside my windows on a bright Christmas morning.

Mabuhay. and Thank you.





 

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Infected for Life


O amor é uma doença da qual ninguém quer se livrar. Todo mundo está satisfeito com o virus...
 (Manuscrito encontrado em Accra)
Love is a disease that no one wants to get rid of. Everyone is pleased with the virus ...
 (Manuscript found in Accra)

No available vaccine.No cure. Carrier state and contagious for life. I'd rather have the "Love Disease" than wondering all the what ifs. It's a risk worth taking.

Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Just in time for Sunset (preview)

Life at the Dasol Bay, with the salambaw -a way of catching school of fishes using fish nets and A Marine Banca for deep sea fishing plus of course a romantic sunset.
Almost a year...I was asked the most difficult question in relation to Sunset.If asked the same question at this time, my answer is still the same.Deo Gratias!

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Fourth Year HS poems


COMMUNICATION ARTS IN ENGLISH

Ms. Lourdes Merin

Now Mrs. Lourdes Merin Monta

(teacher)


Jean Monta Melgar
Fourth Year-A
Santa Cruz Academy
Sta. Cruz, Zambales
                School Year 1992 – 1993, we were Fourth Year high school students in Santa Cruz Academy, Sta. Cruz, Zambales when we were given these poems to study, memorize and interpret. Two of these poems we need to recite with a partner. They were titled “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love” and “Her Reply”.  I was looking for something in our bodega when I come across  my 4th year HS notebook. So I copied these poems, encoded them and shared to our group. They bring back memories of way back then, 20 years ago.


LOVE HAVE I KNOWN

By Toribia Maño


Love have I known as birds have known their skies

In lush of spring and in the summer’s fall

In a gray field of rain and sun drenched wall

I have watched petals fall and new moons rise

And these I found that although I am wise

To all the ways of love, I know not all-

But like a child still grope and heed the call

Of magic sunlight dancing in my eyes

And love is this; a sun that burns and sets

A kingdom greater than a pile of gold

Or name written in fire or flag unfurled

Or silver stars across vast orbits hurled

And love is this too: strength that one begets

By toil, fear, ecstasy the heart can hold.



THE RHODORA


In May, when sea winds pierce our solitudes,
I found the fresh rhodora in the woods,
Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,
To please the desert and the sluggish brook.


The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay,
Here might the redbird come his plumes cool,
And court the flower that cheapens his array.


Rhodora! If the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky;
Fill them, dear, that if eyes were made seeing,
Then beauty is its own excuse for being.


Why thou were there, O Rival of the rose?
I never thought to ask, I never knew;
But in my simple ignorance suppose,
The self-same power that brought me there brought you.



The Rhodora" is an 1847 poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson. It is a response to the question "on being asked whence is the flower". The poem is about the rhodora, a common flowering shrub, and the beauty of this shrub in its natural setting.



THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Christopher Marlowe


Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Or woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow river, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

 And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies
A cap of flowers and a kertle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.


A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair lined slipper for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

 A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning;
If these delights thy mind may move
Then live with me and be my love.


HER REPLY
Sir Walter Raleigh

If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherds tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be Thy love.


But Time drives flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complains of cares to come


The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrows fall.

Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

Thy belt of straw and ivy buds
Thy coral clasps and amber studs
All these in no mean can
To come to thee and be thy Love.

But could youth last, and love still heed.
Had joys no date, nor age no need
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with me thee and be thy Love.