There’s something about Daps,
must be the way he’s sort of in
the background but not entirely,
because every word he says has
substance, maybe it’s his childhood,
carried off the feet of the Lady
unconscious, perhaps she did appear
to him, “Be good,” the Lady must
have said, don’t go climbing steep
walls like a centipede, be more like
sheep once lost will always follow
the Master for the Master broke its legs
for too much wandering, and it healed
with the Master carrying it on his
shoulder, so that’s why maybe he
seldom speaks, and when he does,
pure wisdom flows out, like milk and
honey, and so the Daps before the
fall is not the same as the Daps after
the fall, aren’t we all, when sometimes
we climb too fast with nary a thought,
and when we fall from grace, we are
broken too, not the same anymore,
and so the Lady tells boys who fall:
“Be good,” and that’s the way it will
always be.

Happy birthday, Daps!

There’s something ultimately succeeding,
not so much in a job, in making money,
good works for the poor and the oppressed,
but motherhood ultimately succeeds like
success, it’s in the face of the giver, the
mother herself, as she watches her child
grow up to be like her, but not like her entirely,
for she wants her child to be better than her
actually, that’s how unselfish she is, she did
give it a try, and look where she is now, but
in all, she wants her child to be happier, to
be fuller, to be loved more, and yes, to be
richer, for who is the mother who does not
want the best for her child, and as she
washes the dishes, and collects the dirty
clothes for the lavandera or the laundromat,
do you think she minds the dirt and grime,
do you think she minds the bad smell, being
left behind when everyone is bathed and
wearing business clothes and strolling in
the mall looking for places to eat good food,
do you think she minds being a mother, oh no,
none of that, no such thing for a mother,
for her life is her child, for as long as he or she
is all right and ready and presentable to the world
she’ll be all right, that’s being a mother, nothing for
her, the whole world for her child.

Happy birthday, Jojie!

He wasn’t a Dino Madrid,
or an Alfonso Salvador, you
wouldn’t give him a second
look or a second thought, he
flapped when he walked,
like sails in want of wind, that’s
it, he didn’t have wind at all,
but he had a heart-rending smile,
something between “I like you,”
and “Can we be friends?” yes,
he would place himself entirely
at your disposal, speaking in
hushed tones, as if in church,
reverential is the word for it,
in perfect non-judgment, pure
friend, and under October skies
he would be buried with heroes,
it’s sunny one moment and so rainy
that prayers come to mind, even
nature cannot match his steady
walk, for when we was in third
year high school, he wanted to
wear the uniform, and so it has
come to pass, that the most
obedient one will be buried as
a hero of the fair republic, he
always wanted to wear the
uniform, and in it he shall be
interred, for dead men do tell
tales, tales of strong desire born
in the girded loins of young men,
eager for victories well-fought,
but the pantheon of heroes
belong to those who wait,
wait with Aurel smile, “Thank you,
I know what I want,” he whispers
from death’s door left ajar,
“The boy in me knew that from
the start, glory belongs to those
who will not dare seek it.”

Goodbye, Aurel.

Forty-three years later we still feel
the same way, still laughing at
the same jokes told and retold,
but wait, there’s a certain cautiousness
in the way we act or think, no longer
impetuous, not rushing into anything
anymore, the chair is occupied now,
unlike before when we were walking,
running, standing up, seldom sitting
down, perhaps that’s how it is with
wiser men, preferring to sit down more,
thinking more, reflecting more,
more time to think things over, and
when we see each other, we still
recall the blind obedience to a cause,
yes, we were like soldiers, deep-seated
love for an ideal: “you’ll be a man, my son,”
we were 17 or 18 years old then, we’re
past 60 now, who would imagine that
we could still be the same brods of the
basement, carrying the one who’s hurt,
not minding our pain too much, because
we’re brothers and we’re not heavy,
43 years have passed, some have gone
ahead, their names on our lips when we
see each other, mourning still, oh, who
would have imagined that we would still
be here, brothers after all these years.

Happy birthday, batch ’70!

You might think she’s stationary,
actually she’s cooking and cooking
not only food for the family for the
last 31 years, but food that gives
and gives, for the family’s mirth,
Christmases like no other, for the
family’s energy, see how her husband
and daughters spend energy like
it’s no one’s business, and yes,
she’s cooking ideas, without calling
attention, for how could this family
stay connected and keep on sharing
and sharing its gifts and talents, if
she didn’t approve or didn’t encourage,
yes, she has many, many gifts, she’s
a gift in and by herself, at the end of
the day she’s completely spent, words
are hard to come by for her, she’s
actually word-poor, so when she needs
to speak it’s always to the point, not
wasting ammunition, straight and true,
her messages in sound bytes, and
then she’s back to her world where
family is all there is to it, family, family,
family, husband, husband, husband,
daughters, daughters, daughters, that’s
her life, so when sometimes she looks
like she’s not moving, she’s actually
spinning like a top, top speed always,
for family, food for the tummy, food for
thought, if you wonder why this family’s
this way, why it does what it does, it’s
because of her, there’s no her, there’s
no Renée, only family, only husband,
only daughters, only siblings, only
mother, only in-laws, that’s Super Super
Renée for the world, almost invisible.

Happy birthday, Momsie!

She’s in Andalucia, clapping her hands
and stomping her feet in percussive music,
what a delight, more on her side than on
the side of the audience, for it’s her thing,
to dance the flamenco, and the audience
disappears as she goes through the difficult
motions, Spanish blood courses through
her veins, ages ago, her ancestors must
have forgotten, when the conquistadors
entered the Camarines, there must have
been fusion of both races, the shy Bikolana
and the handsome marine from the galleon
in Ragay gulf, there must be some connection,
for it’s in her blood, flamenco, twirling, stomping,
hands twisting in perfect harmony, that’s her
life, too, in harmony with self and nature,
music, dance and life, they’re all the same
to her, the audience disappears as she dances
the flamenco, beautiful lady in red and black.

Happy birthday, Tess!

I remember her by grease, you see
every time I see her she’s in the kitchen,
we would come I think for Christmas,
and she would be cooking mechado,
or kare-kare, she was kinda strict looking,
like a math professor in UP, with
the way she looks at you, yes, that’s
it, she looks like an eagle, with her
beaked nose, her eyes that pierce,
like you have done something wrong
and she knows about it, and one time,
she put me on a batya, and kneaded
me with her powerful hands, rubbing
the daylights out of me, including the
first layer of my epidermis, perhaps she
thought she could make my skin lighter,
but my skin stayed dark, and she stayed
like an eagle, but she wasn’t strict after
all, bringing me and her other apos
to watch Bridge Over the River Kwai,
walking the length of Carriedo and Avenida
Rizal, she had a stout heart, always presented
to the world her asthmatic kind of laugh
which was a cross between a cough and
a guffaw, and when I was in UP, she read
my history book by Teodoro Agoncillo,
she loved the twists of Philippine history,
couldn’t put the book down, she reveled
in it, I saw a different Lola Concha that night,
she hardly slept, I think she read it cover
to cover, didn’t know she loved the country
so, and in her final days she was the kindly
woman she really was, disciplinarian she
was when we were young, but she had a
soft side, a nationalist side, a ready smile
for this apo of hers when he makes mano,
my Tatay looked like her, and today, when
I am more or less her age when she pored
through Agoncillo’s book: I took after her,
in nationalism, in occasional mirth, in love
for family, fierce love actually, oh, she
didn’t experience traffic, or climate change,
floods and thieving politicians, but I’m sure
if she were still around, she’ll put them on
a batya and try to rub the dirt off them,
they’ll stay dark, I suppose, for they do not
make Filipinos like her anymore, ultra nationalist,
ultra family, rubbing and rubbing the dirt
off from those who needs rubbing.

Happy birthday, Lola Concha!

Poets Aplenty

How many people do you know who have
poetic minds, poetic hearts, poetic souls?
Per hundred, maybe ten or so, so we have
Romz, Dino, Mags, Daps, ‘Lenn (though he
rarely sheds his lawyerly garb), Larry (with
his guitar), Marz (craft), Caloy (prayers),
Mayo (technocratese), Nanding (narratives),
JoeSam (Americanese), Abel (playfulness),
Chito (photography), hey that’s more than
ten already, and they’re all in this page, must
be the ensaymada we ate in the canteen,
or is it the company that lends itself to
poetic twists and turns of untortured souls,
settled in each one’s homes with their loving
wives and children, took after them, actually,
poets too, some in words, some in deeds,
it’s they way we look at things, in colored
glasses, the same worn by Shakespeare,
Wordsworth, Hopkins, Simon & Garfunkel,
O’brien, Paraiso, Alano, and so we
live and write on and on, do we live to
write or do we write to live, you know the
answer to that, for we are such gluttons
with words that inspire and soar, how can
it be, years and years later, the batch that
learned about sex in second year from Saniano,
trying to be mature, and syntax from Ruffy
Bartolabac and Bagais, are still the same boys,
worshipful to the same God, inspired by the
same images, a mountain from whence come
the gods of imagery, the girl that still makes
the same heart miss a beat, the basketball
shoot, the military commands, exams one
seat apart in the gym, how can they be
carried on and on through years and years,
must be the ensaymada we ate, the air
we breathed, voiding our bladders like brothers
born on the same day, 1969 is the year,
easy on the keyboard-pen, brothers, for we have
a long, long way to go.

 
Hintay ka muna, isa lang naman pala
ang bibig mo, dalawa rin naman ang
mga mata mo, dalawa ang tenga, isang
ilong, noo isa, ulo isa, tao ka rin naman
pala Janet, siguro pwede na rin kita
tawaging Janet, kahit tingin ko halimaw
ka, napakawalanghiya mo, akalain mo
pati si Cardinal Tagle na palaging nakangiti,
eh, napaiyak mo, halimaw ka talaga, kung
sumagot ka nga, eh, para kang si Michael
Fajatin, mali-mali, nangangapa, pero hanep
kung dumale, ‘di na natuwa sa thousands
kung magnakaw, millions, billions kung
dumale, ngayon fugitive ka na, ‘di ba
palatandaan yun ng taong may kasalanan,
naku, Janet, kapag nakita ka ng asawa ko,
pati mata mo may latay, antapang yata ng
asawa ko, ba’t naman hindi, eh, lahat kami
ninakawan mo, ganito ang siste, kung hindi
kami magagalit sa ginawa mo, dapat nga
kaming nakawan, bale wale naman sa amin
ang pera ng bayan, kaya tandaan mo, Janet,
pag nakita ka ni Baby, magtago ka na.

Si Jimmy, heartbroken nung Olympic trials,
tinalo ang Pilipinas ng two points 68-70,
tinalo ng South Korea, kaya ngayong gabi,
puso ang ginamit ng koponang Gilas, panalo
tayo ng limang puntos laban sa kinatatakutang
nemesis, mga Koreano, ayan, pinakita ng mga
Pinoy na kaya natin basta may puso, salamat
Pingris, binulabog mo ang laro nang tumayo,
inilabas ang galing kahit iika-ika, wala na kasi
si Douthit, nag-recur ang shin injury at bangko
na, ang ganda tingnan, buong bayan ‘di nawalan
ng pag-asa kahit tila magagaling yata talaga
itong mga taga peninsula, si Tenorio, bubwit
sa court, naalala ko si Niccolo, aming Jack
Russell Terrier, kung anong liit siyang tapang,
sa ilalim ng mga kilikili ng mga higanteng Koreano
dumadaan para shumut, si RDO, si Jeff Chan,
silang lahat, pinakita na kapag may puso may
panalo, walang talo, basta may Diyos, may
paniniwala, paninindigan, kahit hindi na kumpleto,
hindi pa rin, puso lang ang katapat, panalo pa rin.

Alapag on Gilas beating Korea: ‘This is the most precious moment of my career’
By Mark Giongco
INQUIRER.net
1:35 am | Sunday, August 11th, 2013

MANILA, Philippines—Not even one of his six PBA championships would amount to what he had just been part of late Saturday night.  And of the countless of big shots he took, his latest one—considering what’s at stake—is unlike the rest.

“Probably the most precious moment of my career,” said the proud Philippine team captain Jimmy Alapag, moments after Gilas Pilipinas’ emotional 86-79 win over a familiar foe in Korea. “This is more than the PBA championship. This is so much deeper. This is for our country.”

“Not only do we love the game so much and are so passionate of the game of basketball but just thinking of the heartbreak that we had and the history against Korea to change all that in one night here at home in front of an unbelievable crowd it’s absolutely special,” the 35-year-old Alapag, who is most likely on his final moments laying it all for the flag, added.

Alapag delivered 14 points, six came in the final three minutes, including a triple that extended Gilas’ cushion to five, 84-79, with exactly 54.0 ticks remaining prompting a defeaning roar from the hometown crowd, which had been serving as Gilas’ sixth man throughout the tournament.

“They’ve been just a key for us from the beginning. When they’re screaming so loud, it’s hard to get tired out there and it’s a credit to our coaches and our guys who continued to fight. It really took every ounce of heart and soul to pull through tonight against a great Korean team,” Alapag acknowledged.

And on his dagger of a trey, Alapag, the team player that he is, deflected the credit to his teammate.

“Ranidel (de Ocampo) sets some great screens, and then I was able to get free. Again Korea’s defense is so tough. I was so fortunate to have that opening. I know that was really my opportunity to get a great look at the basket and the rest is history.”

The Nationals took a 10-point lead late in the third quarter before Korea, behind its hot-shooting guard Kim Mingoo, came back and even grabbed a 77-76 edge down the stretch.

“During the moments of the game, we weren’t thinking about that,” said Alapag on whether the demons of the past have come to haunt all over again as the game went down-the-wire. “I told the guys something that Kelly Williams told me before the start of the tournament, he said no fear all heart.”

“I know he is not here with us, he is in the States but he is still with this team, so I just reminded the guys that’s what it’s gonna take coming out on the court tonight and really having no fear and having all heart and that’s what pulled us through,” he said.

“It’s great. I’m just proud with everybody involved tonight. All the hard work of the coaches to the players and even the crowd. All the fans spending their hard earned money to come and support us and the fact that we come here and make our countrymen proud, it doesn’t really get any better,” Alapag said.

Read more: http://sports.inquirer.net/114123/alapag-on-gilas-beating-korea-this-is-the-most-precious-moment-of-my-career#ixzz2bdCfirHg Follow us: @inquirerdotnet on Twitter | inquirerdotnet on Facebook