Long Manila Poems
Long Manila Poems. Below are the most popular long Manila by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Manila poems by poem length and keyword.
667.
The 2nd Period of the Independent Era of Philippine History:
Marcos Regime
The only Philippine President elected for another term
Ferdinand Marcos' grip to power was ostensibly firm
But the 2nd & 3rd terms of his presidency
Was engulfed with civil unrest & leftist insurgency
In the so-called “First Quarter Storm”, thousands protested
Separatist groups, MNLF & CPP-NPA, were founded
There was a bombing in the rally of the opposition
High government officials encountered attempts of assassination
The fruit of such anarchy was the Martial law declaration
To save the republic and address the threats of insurrection
Marcos imposed an “iron hand” over the entire nation
There were massive reforms like the new Constitution
Grand edifices were erected like the Manila Planetarium & the PICC
Built were widespread housings, schools, hospitals, roads, bridges & the LRT
Despite these vast projects & accomplishments for our country
The yellows treated Marcos as our nation's enemy
This is the 2nd Period of Independent Era – Marcos Regime
The longest rule by a Filipino President from glory to grim
3 terms of great achievements & gruesome resentments
God taught the Filipinos a good lesson for our next presidents.
-05/28/2019
*Periods on the Eras of the Philippine History
70.
My Life in Dumarao
Dumarao – teen and adult abode
Where memories are both good and bad
My gratefulness when I received from thee
School honor garnered unexpectedly
But in exchange I got few friends only
Who later dwindled ‘til I was lonely
Our improved house resembling a prison
My routine changed, I was in derision
The field not ours was developed further
Without buying it from the landowner
Father's money were quickly exhausted
Everynight's like party – glasses toasted
Foods that we should eat – to animals fed
Chickens, pigs, pigeons, goats…later were dead
So there emerged our sari-sari store
Which I needed also to take care for
Time for fun, highschool gimmicks – missed a lot
To redeem my lost school honor I plot
Yet, all in vain, worse, my batch had fallen
In school competitions where we should win
After all, tragic OLSI memory
Taught me never again to be bossy
And when I was already in UP
My vow in life was full humility
On class days, I learned a lot in Miagao
On weekends, I went back to Dumarao
Where life was still and moving in slow pace
So when I thought I was behind the race
Worked even before I marched from college
On government office even low wage
Not disappointed, but discontented
To Metro Manila I bravely fled
Tutor in Korean Academy
Not fired, not resigned, left job abruptly
At those times of blatant stupidity
To home once again with my family
Maybe fate wants me to be here
Dumarao's love for me may be sincere
And I think I'm also loving thee now
If our love fails again, there's broken vow
Now, your weakness I slowly understand
My test of faith I patiently withstand.
-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
Goodbye Mom, my two older brothers cried.
1930 – I was born, our mother died.
1932 - Daddy remarried, careworn
yet in time three more daughters were born.
Goodbye, peace and home, So long,
1941, Japan attacked British Hong Kong,
the day after they attacked Pearl Harbor.
We all had to leave, Dad stayed, the martyr.
Goodbye, Daddy, he remained in Kowloon.
1942, his life was taken, way too soon
In Santo Tomas, were the rest of his clan
1942, in prison, my youngest sister’s life began.
Goodbye, to friends who were starved to death;
so close we came to our own last breath.
1945, wrought our liberation
then we found out that Daddy was gone.
Goodbye, Philippines, Goodbye China.
Eight refugees headed to Canada,
where mom’s folks met their new kin.
Seven children just about did them in.
Goodbye, Grams, shouting Hosanna,
praise God, he sent us to Indiana.
Mom got a job at a children’s home;
no longer would we have to roam.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Goodbye, Mother. She was ninety-seven,
2002, when God called her to heaven.
All seven children alive, with grandkids galore,
we know her new home will offer much more.
February 23, 2023
contest: Writing Challenge G Words
sponsor: Constance La France
*Santo Tomas was a university in Manila used a Japanese prison camp
during WW II housing 3,785 prisoners. This poem is a sequel to my earlier piece, Funeral, just posted February 17, 2023.
In the beginning,
there was no evidence he existed
except my breath still stutters
at the phrase weight check.
Dr. Wilson wore red socks,
offered sample packs in a manila envelope,
told me I was pretty and shrinking
in exactly the right way.
Said we’d do a quick exam—
just routine.
Hands under the gown,
thumbs on the outer edges like he was
measuring range or resistance.
He never said breast.
He never said anything.
Just held each one
like it was a question
and waited for me
not to answer.
I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t leave.
I said thank you.
Took the pills and the compliment
in the same swallow.
At home I bragged
that my jeans fit like an apology.
There’s no evidence he existed
besides my body asking
how many parts it must offer
to earn approval.
Except every man in red socks
makes me want to run—
throw up about something
I’ll pathologize about later,
by myself.
Even though it began
with his own being
irresponsible with power.
There's a day coming
when it won't be like this.
A relay of moods dribbles on and on
when euphoric tunes kick in:
Jazz, R& B, slow funk, wild pop
igniting primal ecstasy, in the flesh...raw!
Live music leaves me breathless
as thuds of a drum, the intricate fondling
from saxophones blast these veins...
until intoxicated head convulses,
Pulse beat raised at 110, my torso
gyring in motions unknown—
the cortisol of anticipation surging
adrenaline doses gushing...just then,
Philip Bailey whams a falsetto,
higher than high in a climatic lift;
my whole body possessed without Reasons
on Fantasy’s electric stage—
Another grasp of dismembering reality lures
where smoky thirst begs for more notes;
an elevated zing which drugs my soul …
yet, nights ask for more live concerts.
4/17/2019
For Anthony Slausin: Your Amphetamine Contest
----------
Earth, Wind and Fire Live Performance
Manila, 2009
Lead Singer: Philip Bailey/ Songs: Reasons, Fantasy
Sample video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1FN6X_86NY
Manila and Cockles
oh the steamers oh the steamers
Ensis and Razors
Carpet shell clams and Ynghylch
Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
A cold Read and Cattle call
The grounds have Karsted and
surface waters have polluted our aquifers
one said that mussels had attached to the
pipes in his handdugged well
Gaius Suetonius Paulinus,
the speak your name
in Rome
To mock the lovers'
of clams
Oysters: Oysters,
The Worlds my Oyster
mountains and mountains
we shuck
The Squawking shuckers
Bhah and grunt
grinding the day away
seagulls eager for lunch
swarm the skies and the ground
Song By
Sexiigalahgogo DeWhoreofbeddamn
'A two Flute Minimum" written by
"That Ole Gal" from Big-City Music
"What ya'll know out there in the Kuntry?"
Language breathes. Dictionaries opened their doors to thousands: petrichor finally named, gigil crossing oceans from Tagalog hearts, morto carrying Irish embarrassment across continents. Each word a technofossil in reverse and not debris but seed. Where analog crumbles into digital decay, new phonemes sprout from chat windows and kitchen tables, from Glasgow to Manila, Waterford to Johannesburg.
After warm rain falls
petrichor naming something
we always had known
The mouse jiggler hums on desks where we WFH, pretending presence while bed rotting through Sundays, doom-scrolling until brain fog sets in. A chatbot asks if I'm still there. Ghost kitchens feed nobody's neighbourhood. We've made words for our hollow industriousness, our productive stillness, our illuminated solitude, each term a hard pass at something we cannot quite refuse.
Screen glow at midnight
even the AI wonders
if we're still awake
But listen: teenagers shout skibidi at nothing and everything, absolutely delulu with joy, their rizz and aura untranslatable to us, perfect in their imperfection. A girl shows her butter skin lewk and someone says she ate and left no crumbs, bet. In Dublin, they're morto over spice bags; in Kuala Lumpur, tapau your nasi lemak with kaya on the side. The mouth remembers before the dictionary does. Alamak, how we've been speaking new languages all along.
Grandmother's recipe
lumpia rolls carrying words
the page can't hold yet
Perhaps this is the burnt toast theory of linguistics: what seems lost makes room for what must come. The broligarchy names itself. Gen Alpha coins snackable for their fractured attention, honest about their inheritance. Climavores choose with conscience; we practice eco-minimalism like prayer. Generative AI makes prose while we make slang, both of us biohacking meaning from the ruins of the old world, both of us marvelling that anything grows at all.
Sharp-sharp, we greet
this shoogly train of language
hold on, enjoy ride
This would be just prior to circa 2000. I'm guessing it's closer to the 80s, but my memory fails, The Philippines was one of three Southeast Asiatic island nations that I went to with my missionary mother on three separate trips.
Arrived in Manila at night,
Marcos was still in power,
and Manila's power was not cooperating quite a bit
--frequent blackouts.
It's hot there melting in the bayan tree shade in Olongopo.
I tagged along with my cousins who live in Dagupan, Pagansinan
--their MilkFish is to die for!!!!!
Stayed in a hotel in Baguio very nice tourist area a little snow there
--bit of a contrast.
Visited with more cousins (same family w/Dagupan)
in Baccarat, Ilocos Norte.
Their Filipino dad (d. 101 y.o.) married my Hawaiian cousin (d. 80 y.o.),
and they've both passed now,
but half of their family lives in The Philippines and the other half in Hawaii.
Mom's here, so heading back to Manila.
They have these massive shopping malls that are built there in Manila
just so that you lose your mom.
Flying south to Zamboanga,
for the tail-end of the mission,
[not a thing I want to add here]
I agree,
Pearl of the Orient,
mayhaps a bit biased
but my family there are real gems to me.
And there it is
somewhere along wreath of winds
I am brought to the lightest of ease
Here, under the pour of waterfall,
II begin to lay on glossy tracks
Tending blooms among pebbles,
I marvel.This landscape of my ancestors,
Where ricefields carry their bloodline
In the old town of Tanauan
A place, however far away
From the glitters of Manila
..
The liquid trail lies clear, unblemished;
A sanctuary of my youth
Stretching the bends on innocence
Until the country scene turned
Into the wired labyrinth of city life.
Contest: Landscapes and Towns Contest
5/2/2017
Walking on the street,
stretching out both my arms
to catch the breeze
looking silly,
but I don't mind...
'silly' could very well be my middle name...
Closing my eyes as the
sun was dipping goodbye
just for a quick bit though,
(I reckon I'm not that silly),
since I wasn't walking on a sidewalk,
since there was none in that part...
wishing I was sitting instead,
or in that place
where I can swim
in that Manila Bay sunset,
immerse myself
stare,
drink that shimmering orange yolk
that bleeds light
watching it dip softly
into the languid waves,
rendering brilliance,
gilding everything
a golden inked cookie
from the milky sky
being dunked,
tickling my hungry eyes
ah,
the glorious,
soul-filling
Manila Bay sunset
--------------------------------
I continue my walk home
and I sigh,
I sleep at sunrise.
0528200913
I have a big feeling I will be writing a different version of this,
I was walking on that street, wishing I was watching the sunset
near Manila Bay
but yup, this was something that I wrote when I couldn't sleep
so wasn't able to fully grasp what I wanted to be conveyed,
it lacks something, I don't know, just Something.
Thank you for passing by.