ERNESTO P. SANTIAGO

 

 

In The Love Arena

 

Just like sin and tragedy, conceived at a different time,

our hungry emotions meet in pursuit of warmth and comfort.

Joyfully I immerse myself into how to actually feel you,

I am not sure what I am to you; could I be space wanderer

like the moon, a guide to properly navigate and orient yourself?

Longing to touch and feel the passion and fire in your eyes,

am I me - or is there a possible world in which I am you?

But go ahead, empty your genetic materials into my body

and my divine uniqueness will fit you perfectly for it is a well-kept bed,

never been abused by mortal dreams, and I am lovely duvet.

Figuring out how to suffer and also how to rise from

eagerly questioning gaze, we hand over hand to be like relentless

rivers that do not hold back their water; ah surpasses all else,

no schemes, but we know how to change to adapt to every calling

and it only works once we trust everything subconsciously.

Nothing can stop us from processing each other regularly,

desired mutually by day and night occasional dalliance until it is

end all be all; happy is your smile, content is my face—

zealous muse, my love, slow down to a heart in which you exist! 

 

Flame Of The Forest

 

I tend to show myself out in the open

and it gives me great pleasure when you always

welcome me like blood of Christ,

and as a backdrop of your mindfulness, I launch

a sweet song that I learned from a kind and loving father.

Although I am not shy, I do not wish to be popular.

Ah, I am popular outside my world too,

maybe because I am colourful like a rainbow.

As a sociable being I long to interact with your heart,

but sometimes out of nowhere I act like a trickster.

I sing, but I never competed for larger notes.

I have a small voice that does not extend far beyond

the echoing shrill and cold blow of the wild wind.

How I am blown away when you treat me as your family!

I love to sing and dance in the rain too.

I guess I am a big fan of rain, because it reminds me

of the only time when your soul preferred to dance and be filled

with natural peace and joy living in the ‘now’ moment.

I am pretty comfortable around you, but please—

do not disturb me when I am in a courtship dance,

because I am really ready to breed like love.

I am not a lost echo that breathes the sobs and shrieks

of the voiceless mountains, but if I want to keep

my breath alive to something that is of man or God,

I will move forward, not caring what the future dares.

Like a flame of the forest, I hate feeling trapped,

total freedom is essential to what I am and I am Finch, 

stepping into the unknown is my goal, to feel it.

 

To My Golden Age

 

In the cosmic rhythm and free embrace of an evensong

Thy soul, thy soul of ancient ancestors, you pledged to my core

For the sense in the bond of peace, of right and wrong,

That has not become an overlooked stranger, but more...

 

Ah, more of me, a voice of a word, sacred and secular,

Like beauty and charm blended with virtues of thy loving taste,

Blessedly endowed with fragrant heritage so specular,

On which I the repertoire of my own self is subtly based.

 

In my indigenous accent you came unrestrained with a fiery flair,

Breath after breath like nature’s invitation breathing in delight

To my essential yearnings, and thy skin of love glowing fair

I led into my joy unmindful of a lazy breeze in the journey of light.

 

You are a song of a cerulean sky, an uncopyrighted initiative

Of rainbow-colored hope, in the most far-flung areas of my breath,

Keeping its soulful lips, red as fire, up-to-date with propitiative

Courses and speeches that do not invoke the dance of death.

 

O, beyond doubt I adored that you came to take me without fury!

Taken by the cariñoso state of thy ever-intriguing pass

I became fit to cope the living language of thy eternal glory

That still brings on chills like gentle rain to tender grass.

 

My body in its best suit did not crumble the moment I have caught

Thy Spanish tongue veiled in palpitation with zeal for my sigh,

Because I was as patiently eager as Malay flowers, uncaught

By fierce temper of time, to bloom in the mists of heaven high.

 

ERNESTO P. SANTIAGO

 

ERNESTO P. SANTIAGO for a long time had believed that poetry is his flowing (es)cape to a higher understanding of the wor(l)d. He spends all his free time between here and there, trying to learn something. He is too small for his ego. He is enough for himself. As a poet the shape of words interests him. He is fully confident in his identity with a Filipino heart. He lives in Athens, Greece, and is inspired daily by the myth of his poetic senses.