Tracy Rhymes with Crazy

One of my students recently emailed me a poem she wrote for me. She said she wanted to wait until after the semester was over so that I, and her classmates, wouldn't think that she was trying to brown nose me into giving her a better grade. And, after reading it, I have to admit, it may have worked ;) Except that she is a great student and writer who wouldn't need to suck up to get a good grad - Her work earns the A for her. I wanted to share this sweet poem she wrote for me. I bet she didn't even know that she sent it to me on my birthday :)


When you left
by Khira Rey
Ah, the table is where it should be
But then I’m looking at what I couldn’t see
The board doesn’t seem blocked by her
And the air doesn’t strive to straight her hair
But the room, although no one is there
Although untouched and left with care
Is not empty for her laugh remains
The words of joys and the words of pains
Strangled at first by the thought of leaving
Scared that without her no one is listening
Soon I realized there is nothing to fear
Because although I cannot see her near
I’m glad she’s out there inspiring the rest
It would be selfish to keep someone "the best"
Because I’d love others to go happy and crazy
I’d love them to be inspired by our Ma’am Tracy.

For Erica (And Her Boobies)

Recently a good friend of mine, Erica,  was diagnosed with breast cancer and began the lengthy treatment process. In an attempt to understand what she may be going through, I wrote a poem for her. I wrote it from her perspective, in an attempt at imagining what she may be going through right now - a roller coaster of emotions that she can try to control, but sometimes has a hard time keeping in check. A lot of the lines I took from actual facebook posts that she made or words she used in conversations with me.  And I also didn't know all the specifics of the treatment plan when I wrote it, so it may not be totally accurate. I also tried to inject humor, not to trivialize her experience, but because I've noticed she's been using humor and sarcasm a lot in her messages to me. I can't begin to really feel what she's going through, but I wanted to try.  

Erica is an amazingly strong woman and I admire the way she's facing this with grace and courage. I'm confident that if anyone can beat breast cancer, Erica will be the one.


For Erica (And Her Boobies)

There's a lump in my breast
The doctor told me it was a 3
On a scale of 1 to 6
1 being definitely not cancer
6 definitely cancer
They gave me a 3
Probably not cancer

Probably not cancer?!

I need a second opinion
More tests
This doctor tells me
You should prepare yourself for cancer

How the hell do I prepare myself for cancer?

The results take 6 days
6 days to prepare for cancer

Waiting

I'm strong

Waiting

I'll get through this

Waiting

This isn't happening to me

Results...

I have cancer

Shit

Invasive Ductal Carcinoma
That sounds bad

I have cancer
Now what?

Chemo
At least it's Halloween season
I can wear fun wigs
Maybe I'll go blond

Surgery
Boobs are overrated anyway
Think of the money I'll save on bras

Radiation
I heard the White House scans visitors for radiation risks
Maybe I'll be considered a threat to national security

5 years of hormone therapy
5 years
There goes the rest of my 30s

No
I can't think that way
I'm strong
I'll get through this

Dammit
Now I have to tell everyone else
No use trying to hide it
It'll be pretty obvious once I start treatment
I'm going to get this announcement over with

Facebook post:
I have breast cancer
I'll start treatment next week
I'm in good spirits
I feel super confident that I'll beat this
Smiley face

There
I've said it
Though I still don't believe it myself
I have cancer

It's scary
It's hard to wrap my brain around it
I don't feel sick
But once I start chemo...

No
Stay positive

I'm strong
It hasn't spread to my bones
Or my brain

I'll get through this
I'm in fighting mode
And feeling super positive

All of my doctors believe they can cure me

I'm staying positive
With the occasional fits of tears
I'm not ready to cry in public
People already feel uncomfortable around me
Now that they know

I have cancer

I don't want to magnify it by bursting into tears
One minute I'm fine
Having a normal conversation
Then it sneaks up on me
And I'm sobbing
Of course, I don't stop talking
Just call me the awkward cancer girl
Smiley face

I'm strong
I'll get through this
I'm in good spirits
I'm confident I'll beat this
I don't even feel sick

It's strange to think
In order to heal me
They have to make me sick

Today I start chemo
Today it becomes real

I have cancer

But it will NOT beat me
That's what everyone says

I AM strong
I WILL get through this
Smiley face

Chemo
Surgery
Radiation
Cancer

Bring
It
On

 

My favorite photo of Erica and me :)

Regret Sadness Anger HOPE

You know what's awesome? The semester is over. There are no more assignments. We finished the poetry unit weeks ago. And still, one of our students sent me this beautiful poem this week to be added to the blog.

REGRET

by  Jay- r Aluyen

the sea pulling you away from me

farther,

farther into the unknown where i cant find you

the only hope i had of keeping you, broke loose and i

tried in vain to followed you, but the waves is not my friend

washing ashore and keeping you in its care till somebody

somebody more deserving of your affection will treasure you..

how i wish for the times we spent,

to turn around and come back to me

when they feel my deep repentance

in the melody of my tears

can the things done be undone?

forgotten, buried six feet underground?

if time is but a thing that makes a past,

can time ever bring me back to that past?

eternal the love we had, 

had i not broken and shattered your heart

tears streaked down my cheeks,

as i watched darkness embrace your back.

It's actually not totally awesome that the semester is over. This was, by far, my favorite semester at BSU. And that is due, almost completely, to this Creative Writing class. At the beginning of the semester, I don't think any of us - the students, myself or my counterpart - would've called ourselves poets. And now, I think we've all felt more poetic as a result of our semester together. It started with Crystal's Performance Poetry mini-workshop and continued through a visit from another PCV poet, BJ Stolbov and his advice to "Go all the way to the edge. And then pull it back a little if you need to." The momentum continued through open mic nights and assignments that allowed us to explore tough topics that we don't always get to talk about. It gave us a safe space to share emotions that we probably don't often share with others. We talked and wrote about love, betrayal, abuse, alcoholism, neglect, adultery, heartbreak, death in nearly every manner you can imagine. We cried a lot together. But we also laughed a lot. The moments I spent in that classroom were some of the best of my entire Peace Corps experience. 

And on my last day of class with them, they surprised me with a party! They shared songs, speeches, poetry, stories and many of their other talents. They gave me some really nice cards and gifts and, well, they made it even harder for me to leave. 

The last poem I wrote was actually dedicated to them. It was inspired initially by the constant battle with other teachers and their insistence that my job should be to "fix" the students' accents so that they sound more like me. I hate that. First of all, it's insulting to the students - they speak beautiful English, and their accents make a lot of the language sound more lovely. And they're Filipino, what's wrong with them sounding Filipino? On one day in particular, someone told me that we needed to make them sound more like me because most of them will end up working in call centers. This made me sad, but mostly, it made me angry. Not with the person who told me this, but at the reality that many Filipinos face. 

It saddens and enrages me that when these students graduate with degrees in Education and English that the reality is most of them will not be able to find jobs. At least not here in the Philippines. And most likely not in Education. How futile it all must seem to them. I admire their dedication to their studies despite the lack of opportunities they know they'll face when they graduate. But I find it unacceptable for Higher Education to settle for simply training them to be call center agents, or "fixing" their accents so they can go work abroad as care takers, nannies or domestic help. That's fine if those are the jobs they aspire to, but they've chosen Education for a reason. And after hearing their poetry and short stories, I know that working in a call center is not the ultimate goal for their future. They want more. They're capable of more. And they deserve more. 

I wrote this poem to express my anger at their situation and my hope for their future. It probably has a bigger impact if you hear me read it aloud, but I hope that you can feel it just by reading it.

Not My Job

It’s not my job to make you

Speak like me

Think like me

Be like me

It’s not my job to break you down

Just to fix you up

It’s not my job octogenarian American patient won’t know

That you’re Filipino

It’s not my job

It’s not the job of higher education to tell you

What to think

What to say

And how to say it

It’s not our job to make you feel

Inferior

Incomplete

Invalid

It’s not our job to crank out

Batches of colonized call center clerks

That’s not the job of higher education

And it’s not my job

My job is to teach you

To think for yourself

Express yourself

Be yourself

It’s my job to build you up

Empower you

To find your voice

And to use it

To speak up

And tell the world what you think

What you want

Who you are

And I hope you’ll use your voice

To do your job

As a teacher

As a writer

As a leader

Because it’s not your job to ensure that

Some guy in California is happy with his Direct TV service

Or that some banker in Hong Kong has a clean condo

Or that someone else’s grandfather in Canada is well cared for

That’s not your job

Your job is to

Demand more

More freedom

More opportunity

More JOBS

For yourself

And your future students

That’s your job

And my job here is done.

We've Got Some Angsty Poets Here Tonight

Last month I arranged for members of our Creative Writing class to go into the city for a poetry open mic night. We had about 20 students join us, and 5 or 6 of them were brave enough to share their poetry with the overflowing crowd at Baguio City's Mt. Cloud Bookshop. For most of the students, it was their first time at this pleasant and peaceful book shop, and for all of them, the "Third Monday from the Sun" was their first appearance at an open mic night.

They were nervous, and a bit intimidated by the crowd, largely populated by poets. But the cheerful and bubbly host of the night made everyone feel at home, instructing all of us poets to introduce ourselves, and encouraging the crowd to then respond.

Me: Hi, I'm Tracy
Crowd, in unison: Hi Tracy!

Throughout the show, most of our students remained in the balcony, only coming down if their name was called from the sign up sheet.

She had purposely put her name lower down on the list so she wouldn't be called first. But the host chose the names randomly, causing her to be teary-eyed and quivering as she kicked off the night.But she did an awesome job!

 Some of the poems were more warm and cheerful. Others got a bit angsty.

Even the students who did not share their poetry seemed to enjoy the event, and claimed they'd definitely go back again - and maybe even read their own work next time. I was inspired, not only by their courage to share their poems, but because some of them were original poems that they did not write for our class. That means they're writing poetry, even when it's not assigned! Woohoo! Next week there'll be another open mic night, so I hope they're still writing. I guess that means I should get writing too...


Note: I don't have copies of the poems they shared that night, but one student emailed me a poem recently, so I thought I'd share it here. Enjoy!

The Yearning Heart

Affection Being Cursed

Dreams are Extremely Forbidden

Genuinely Hurting

Immensely Judging, Killing.

Loving Man

Now Offers you Perpetual Pain,

Quixotic Romance Starts to fade,

Time Unconsciously Passes

Vows were broken,

Wasted.

The Xylophone starts

to play a sad tone,the

Yearning heart amidst the Zephyr

Of winters' mood.

                                        -BSE ENGLISH

Pissed Off Poetry

After such a successful round of inspirational poems, I wanted to see if the students could express their anger and frustrations as well as their admiration and love. Their prompt was to follow the same instructions from Crystal's inspirational poem workshop but to write about someone or something that angers them the most. We wanted to feel their anger, be angry with them.

Ma'am Cynthia and I were blown away. We heard hilarious  poems that made us all laugh together, vengeful poems that made me say things like, "Oh....SNAP!" and powerful poems that made us cry with empathy. I was so grateful to hear these expressions and I hope that you will appreciate these angry poems. I included mine again, so can see a little bit into the thing that frustrates me most about my life here.

A few of these are better expressed as a performance (particularly mine, since it requires me making sound effects), but hopefully you can feel the frustration through reading them. Fortunately, others outside our classroom will get the chance to hear some of them because I'm taking a group of 30 students from this class to a poetry open mic night in Baguio City next week. But for now, you can enjoy them here...

I Hate You

by Shai Segundo

One,Two, Three.... Numbers Everywhere!

From hundreds to thousands

From millions to billions

Here we go again.

First, you asked me to divide you

Then you told me to add you

Then you beg me to multiply you

Then you ordered me to subtract you?!?

You're such a chaos!

So hard to understand

And I can't stand it no more

'Coz it's not funny anymore.

I hate you Math!

Will you please grow up

And solve you're own problems?!

'Coz I have my problems too...

 

 

My Angry Poem
Claire B. Sacpa

“Summer, don’t touch that, okay?
Don’t touch that, I saw you
Beagle, don’t eat that, no!
What? Oh c’mon, my eardrums almost burst, yet — haayyy…
Clouds, that’s dirty you know.”
Argh! This is such an annoyance!
And worst is when it’s continuously barking but,
She will just say “Why Boda, what’s your problem?”
Anyway, it’s the dogs, four dogs;
Most of all, the very irresponsible owner.

I am residing at my late grandparents’ house.
She is our boarder; landlady is my aunt, living nearby.

Every time I go home, stressed, from school
I can’t avoid passing by these colorful —
Black, brown, yellow, whatever color — the dog’s poop.
Step, ooppss.. poop, step, step.. poop again, step, step, step, another poop!
A mixture of odorous dogs, not taking a bath for like a year, and its poops

What I can’t take is, at home, when I arrive
Still, dogs’ poop are scattered outside
And when I enter the house… kuuhhh…. the smell!
It’s indescribable, makes me vomit
I just make my nose adapt to it.

At night while studying, they’re also barking
Then she will say, “Keep quiet, I kill you”
Of course they’re still barking;
I’m tired of waiting, tired of waiting for her to kill those dogs,
“I said keep quiet, I kill you.”
Nothing happens.

How could she live with that environment?
She bought dogs and speaks to it in English;
She doesn’t know how to train them.
My eyes, nose, and ears are now polluted
Because of her irresponsibility
I’m so exasperated!

How I wish I’m the boss, so I can say
“Go, leave, take your dogs with you and never show your face here again!
You’re the most disgusting person, I’ve ever known…”
Oh no! I can’t do that.
Oh, yes I can!
In my dreams…

 

The Counting Starts

by: Amanda S.

The sound of the bell rings

Another life taken

Several forgotten

Counting starts

One, two, three, four

Killing in another more

Five, six, seven, eight

Begging, pleading, screaming soul

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve

No one's watching kill them all

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Left alone, abandoned toll

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty

Tortured body, lifeless form

Increasing numbers, all I see

Everyday they kill with glee

Madness, foolishness

By parent's heart

Scattered pieces on the ground

left for dead, silence shouts

Merciless murder

I will say

Kill the murderer's right away

Let the pain and suffering

Felt by criminals all the way.

Kill them all, that's all I'll say.

 

 

POEM OF ANGER
BY: JELYN CORTEZ

Waiting seems forever
It is good it is worth waiting
But frustrating and irritating
If you waited for nothing
It’s been decade when he’s gone
A decade of waiting and hoping
But a decade of frustration
And years full of hurt
Why is life so unfair?
He’s a good man, but is he taken there
In a way like a nightmare
And leave us all in suffer
In that unfortunate night
He was hit without having a chance to fight
He was found when the morning light
Half dead and half alive,
a term that describe it right
Hit by metal tubes
And punched by group of men
Drop it from the second floor like a sack
Who would have survive in such
Even so called friend is there
The only witness, his very own friend
Where is he? He’s nowhere
Silenced by fear
And blinded with money
And the criminals live freely
Damn this people!
Damn justice!
Why did this people ever live?
Why did these things ever exist,
if they don’t serve their purpose,
and give others hope for nothing.
Give promises that others expect
But fulfill nothing.

Carrying  The Family Name

by Khira Rey

She told me over and over again

All she could say was how stupid

                she was to marry him

All I can hear are stories full of regret

But her words were fresh emotions

Clawing me, forcing me to open my eyes

Till I felt reality

Till I was consumed by this agony

And I started to loathe him

To despise him!

To hold tightly to my grudge

And of all the people I had to hate

It was my own father

Some of you might think ill of me

I was treated with indifference because

                of my resentment

Because they don’t understand

That I am not a saint!

They don’t know

How it feels like

To sizzle, to tremble

To hold back the hatred

Just for the sake of divine law

I burned in embarrassment

It’s like heaven rained down inferno

I carried the family name

I never wanted to have

Ugh! If only I could change this name

                without getting married

I remember

The way he treated us like animals

Like caregivers! Maids! Lowlifes!

When he would laugh and mock

                us like we’re morons

I was even seen as a whore in my

                Father’s eyes

Accused of immoral things I never committed

Don’t you speak of care and love

I never felt any from him

He loved his gin and whiskey

And he cared for himself

I was even forced to grow up

To stand as a man in the family

Just to fill in the spaces,

The responsibilities he never tried to fulfill

I was insulted! Degraded!

I was hiding yet I was hunted by

                my very own father

They don’t know how it hurts

To watch my mother cry desperately

                In front of me

And all I could do was to watch her grasp air

So don’t you dare speak ill to me

Like you know my story

Seeking Silence

by Tracy Fuller

Ahhhh! Finally some time alone.

I settle in to write my angry poem

clearing my mind and embracing this rare moment.

My pen hovers over the blank page

hmmmmmm

What makes me angry?

As ideas start to peek into my mind

a symphony of sounds invades my ears.

First a saw buzzing away

WEEEEEEEEEEEN!

Then joined by his kasama the hammer,

furiously driving nails with a THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

(sigh)

Back to this poem. 

hmmmmmm

What makes me angry?

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!

My neighbor's dog leads the pack in a song.

ARF! ARF!

BARK! BARK!

OWWWWWWWUUUUUUUU!

WOOF!

Children trundle about, giggling with glee

HEE HEEEE HEEEEEE! HAA HAAAA HAAAAAA!

I don't feel much like laughing.

I take a deep breath

INHALE...

EXHALE...

COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOO! The rooster chimes in.

TA-HOOOOOO! TA-HOOOOOO!

WAAAAAAAAAAAH! The baby protests as her mother weeps the stairs

SWISH SWISH SWISH

WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I start gnawing my nails

trying to put pen to paper

heart pounding

getting nowhere.

(DEEP SIGH)

BEEP...BEEP... BEEP... The van alerts everyone to its reversing

MEOW! MEEEOOOW! MEEEEEEOOOOOOW!

PLA-STEEEEEEC! PLA-STEEEEEEC! 

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE...

What's that awful whistling sound?

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Oh! My tea kettle!

My hands are quaking as I try a taste

I spill hot tea on my paper -

the brown, wet splotch the only mark I've managed to make.

Try a sip, but I scald my shaking hand

OOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!

INHALE

EXHALE

Small sip, successfully unspilled.

Pen to paper.

start to scribble

 

WEEEEEEEEEEEN!

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

WOOF! 

ARF!

BARK!

OWWWWWWWUUUUUUUU!

HEE HEEEE HEEEEEE! 

HAA HAAAA HAAAAAA!

COCK-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOO!

TA-HOOOOOO! TA-HOOOOOO!

WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

SWISH SWISH SWISH

BEEP...BEEP... BEEP... 

MEEEEEEOOOOOOW!

PLA-STEEEEEEC!

"Too much love will kill you...."

Oh no! NOT videoke!

ANYTHING but videoke!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Forget it!

I GIVE UP!

 

Who Inspires You?

After about two years of neglecting to post anything in this blog, I've finally decided how best to use it. As you probably know, I've been teaching English in the Philippines since 2010. This semester, in our Creative Writing class, I was inspired by the poetry that our 3rd year (university) English Majors have been writing. So I decided this blog would be a great place to share some of it with all of you. 

I've tried to choose work that moved me, as well as my Counterpart, Ma'am Cynthia, and their classmates when shared in class. Many of them involve themes that I found to be common to the Filipino experience or that spoke to a larger, universal audience. Some are most powerful when heard performed by the poet, but I hope that their messages will translate in text as well. I did not edit the poems, so they are copied here exactly as the student wrote them, with the permission of the student. 

For this first set of poems, the prompt was provided by a friend and poet, Crystal Catalan, after she facilitated a short spoken word performance poetry workshop with them. The prompt was to write a poem about someone who you admire or someone who inspires you. She gave them a few tips such as:

 - What does your heart feel when this person is around?

 - What happens to your stomach when this person walks in to the room?

 - What's the weather like?

 - Pay attention to all of your senses

We only gave them about 30 minutes to write, and we were blown away with the results. I've selected some for you to read, and included the one I wrote while they were writing. Enjoy!

My Inspiration

by Abegail C. Betudio

T’ was a bright morning of June

and the 28^th day of the month;

It may be just a simple day

but it is a special one for me.

You walked in the room with the food you prepared

You don’t smell that fresh but your eyes full of gladness.

I’m reminded that I am really that blessed,

Having you in my life is my most precious treasure.

You said a prayer I listened to,

You prayed for things that are not for you,

They’re all for me, for my dreams to come true.

After you prayed, I looked at you

You greeted me and I thanked you;

But my heart jumped when you hugged me tight

‘Coz it was the first time you did that.

I can’t help my self but cry that time

because your love was poured to mine.

I hugged you back so long and tight

and felt so blessed with that “birthday gift”.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, remember that

You’re the only one best DAD of mine.

Untitled

by Jamaica Buscaino

Drip, drip, drop, drop

As I awaits for your arrival,

I watch for the rain...

And in a blink of an eye,

You're there walking towards me.

The rain suddenly turns into little crystals,

The boring ambiance of the place turns romantic

And it's like only you and me,

Staring at each other like no tomorrow.

Now you're mine legally,

We are bonded not only by the law,

We are one in the name of love

And death will only set as apart.

You're my strength when I'm in my weakest,

You shower me with so much gladness,

You pour so much love

And you give to much devotion to me.

You make my bleak life into colorful one,

You serve as my inspiration through everything.

You even become a hero in time of trouble

And I thank you for all of that.

You're the air that I breath,

You're the one who makes my heart pounds,

And when I lose you....

I will never exist again!!!

Untitled

by Jay- r Aluyen

how can i cage this heart

wanting to get loose, wanting to search you

how can i forget you 

when every time i see

a thing from you

something in me burn so intensely

this longing to see you

so sweet were your words

yet you went away

so warm was my palm

before you let go of mine

i saw your photo

and the sun glowed with radiance

our memoirs that was burned

from the ashes reborn

Untitled

by Wilfer Bangcoleng

A silhouette from the outside light

I blink! Once……. Twice to see if I’m right

And yes! It is a lady

Her presence makes me crazy

My heartbeat began to rush

Like my world is going to crash

Sweat appear, on my palm and then it is all over me

Body temperature rising to 40 degree

Visible enough, I see Venus down to earth

I asked myself, Olympus goddess number thirteenth?

She opened her mouth and I hear harmony from Apollo’s lyre

Eyes staring like precious myre

From her beautiful face down…..down to her leg

And oh! To all of you I beg

Disgusting! A lady with man’s toes

She posses nothing else but the feet of Kronos

Inspired

by Me :)

OH
EM
GEE!
These stairs!

As  you climb them, the day's frustrations fell
Right off my shoulders
One

Chip
At
A
Time

Your cheerful greeting
Between caught breaths
Drowned the sound of the relentless rain
Your bright smile illuminated the dim hallway
As we scurried off to the anxiously awaiting class

Inspired
Challenged
Heard
Understood
Entertained

Even if 90 minutes lang
They can feel the force of your friendship
That I've been fortunate to bask in
 

Now you're leaving
And soon I won't be able to ignore the rain anymore
It will still be here, but you won't

Without you, who will do the job of the sun?

OH
EM
GEE!

GIRL!

I wish you didn't have to leave me!

SHOOT!

You can read more about Crystal's experience in our class here:

http://missionofgrace.blogspot.com/2012/07/poetry-for-senses.html 

The students have access to this blog as well, so if you like their work, feel free to let them know by leaving a comment. 

:)

I had another late entry from a student. This student is excellent at performing her poetry and making her audience feel the emotion. I wish you could've seen this performed, but I hope you'll enjoy reading it none the less...

Admiration Poem

In Dedication to “You”

Heads down
My fingers poking the bubble gum
                stuck under my armchair
I suddenly smell something quite familiar
I stood up and froze
“Oh my gosh he’s coming!”
I pretended to be busy as he entered the room
My heart goes “Bodoom! Baddom!” to “Boom”
It’s ready to explode at his presence
I sat down put my hands on my chin
And I go “ Haaaaaa….”
Then he started “Good morning class!”
Those were the only words that I remember
 Because the rest of the lecture
I was imaging things…
Him and me, running in the beach
Holding hands
Both of us looking at each other
And finally…
“Miss Padeo!” I jumped up!
And all of them were starin’ at me
I felt a hot stingy sensation
Filling in my face, my ears, my cheeks, eyes
                nose, chest, even in my feet!
“Please erase the board” then he fixed his things
                And walked away