...from outside the US, the UK, and the ROI!
A long way back, my sister gifted me a book: A Habit of Shores: Filipino Poetry and Verse from English, 60's to the 90's, compiled by Gemino H. Abad. I remain more familiar by far with poets in English from those countries I would consider our usual suspects -- the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Republic of Ireland -- but I'd be doing myself a great disservice if I didn't maintain some connection with our local "scene". Here I'll mention the book Elsewhere Held and Lingered by Conchitina Cruz, as well as share in full three poems by Isabela Banzon, who I suppose are at this point among my favourites, and I could share a few more verses from the aforementioned anthology as per your requests, but I'm more curious to see which poets writing in English you enjoy that don't come from those three countries -- again, the US, the UK, and Ireland -- and maybe also Australia, New Zealand, and Canada! Basically anywhere that isn't part of the "developed" world, and preferably ones whose literary careers aren't founded on Instagram xP
A long way back, my sister gifted me a book: A Habit of Shores: Filipino Poetry and Verse from English, 60's to the 90's, compiled by Gemino H. Abad. I remain more familiar by far with poets in English from those countries I would consider our usual suspects -- the United States, the United Kingdom, and the Republic of Ireland -- but I'd be doing myself a great disservice if I didn't maintain some connection with our local "scene". Here I'll mention the book Elsewhere Held and Lingered by Conchitina Cruz, as well as share in full three poems by Isabela Banzon, who I suppose are at this point among my favourites, and I could share a few more verses from the aforementioned anthology as per your requests, but I'm more curious to see which poets writing in English you enjoy that don't come from those three countries -- again, the US, the UK, and Ireland -- and maybe also Australia, New Zealand, and Canada! Basically anywhere that isn't part of the "developed" world, and preferably ones whose literary careers aren't founded on Instagram xP
Last night, when you were missing love
as I was,
we were lying on a huge bed,
each with nobody beside.
I will slip under
your mosquito netting
and you may, if you wish,
find your way
into me.
Aku cinta padamu,
but it is morning
before I understand
what you say in the dark.
We can't go on meeting like this,
suspended
on wire, post
to post, through cable, under ocean,
under ground.
Fated to each other
but living without,
we rendezvous in a language not our own.
Aku ingin
mencitaimu denga senderhana.
I want
to love you simply,
without fear, without metaphor,
but it is difficult
in English.
It is difficult to imagine how we are
together,
gecko to the other in the permeable air.
You live in me,
outside me.
Kamu hidup di dalam
dan di luar diriku.
The river rushes below.
What are we in the hands of the dalang,
emotion, our puppet master.
Kita tiada sebelum kita bertemu lagi.
We are shadows in a show not of ourselves.
Who are we
that to leave you in the island of the gods
is difficult.
We do not exist.
Di bahasa Inggris, kita tiada.
as I was,
we were lying on a huge bed,
each with nobody beside.
I will slip under
your mosquito netting
and you may, if you wish,
find your way
into me.
Aku cinta padamu,
but it is morning
before I understand
what you say in the dark.
We can't go on meeting like this,
suspended
on wire, post
to post, through cable, under ocean,
under ground.
Fated to each other
but living without,
we rendezvous in a language not our own.
Aku ingin
mencitaimu denga senderhana.
I want
to love you simply,
without fear, without metaphor,
but it is difficult
in English.
It is difficult to imagine how we are
together,
gecko to the other in the permeable air.
You live in me,
outside me.
Kamu hidup di dalam
dan di luar diriku.
The river rushes below.
What are we in the hands of the dalang,
emotion, our puppet master.
Kita tiada sebelum kita bertemu lagi.
We are shadows in a show not of ourselves.
Who are we
that to leave you in the island of the gods
is difficult.
We do not exist.
Di bahasa Inggris, kita tiada.
Robert tells me
he's come back from the Bridge Hotel
his mum's old place, where he dug up corpses
because although he's moved on
the stench follows him.
It's not like there's blood on his hands,
him only twelve when his daddy
walked out and into the Murray River.
His dad kept sliding off the bank, his mum said,
until the weight of two sons she'd left behind
was too heavy even for her.
It's not like there's blood spilled.
Gran was a dingo and no sort-of brother
could come close to making the point
not that anyone cared
that like in the Meryl Streep movie
dingoes could tear you apart
and the heart breaks in Wagga Wagga.
Robert shows me his blisters,
the body bags he's been lugging around.
But there's only dust, I say.
I don't buy his story, only a glass of lemonade,
because they don't get along so well,
he and grog, his baby drink.
he's come back from the Bridge Hotel
his mum's old place, where he dug up corpses
because although he's moved on
the stench follows him.
It's not like there's blood on his hands,
him only twelve when his daddy
walked out and into the Murray River.
His dad kept sliding off the bank, his mum said,
until the weight of two sons she'd left behind
was too heavy even for her.
It's not like there's blood spilled.
Gran was a dingo and no sort-of brother
could come close to making the point
not that anyone cared
that like in the Meryl Streep movie
dingoes could tear you apart
and the heart breaks in Wagga Wagga.
Robert shows me his blisters,
the body bags he's been lugging around.
But there's only dust, I say.
I don't buy his story, only a glass of lemonade,
because they don't get along so well,
he and grog, his baby drink.
There was once a man
who sang all the love songs
I had forgotten and sad
and happy I couldn't make up
my mind fell in love
with him under the cover
of a midnight sky.
Next day
at the hotel lobby
I listened to the voices. Was that him
humming to himself
or laughing with a guest
or letting go
like the couple at the exit?
Love, no matter who you are,
your tenderness was my home
in many cities
dulled by the cold.
And when at the front desk I ask
for the key,
my song is still for you.
who sang all the love songs
I had forgotten and sad
and happy I couldn't make up
my mind fell in love
with him under the cover
of a midnight sky.
Next day
at the hotel lobby
I listened to the voices. Was that him
humming to himself
or laughing with a guest
or letting go
like the couple at the exit?
Love, no matter who you are,
your tenderness was my home
in many cities
dulled by the cold.
And when at the front desk I ask
for the key,
my song is still for you.