Richard Yulo
Photographed in the Philippines using a Canon 40D and 10-22mm lens.
Ondoy (Typhoon Ketsana) was undoubtedly the most devastating typhoon that has ever hit the Philippines (in my lifetime, at least). You need only to make a quick image search on Google to be reminded of how destructive it really was. The storm brought with it massive winds and an awesome amount of water, which it dumped on the country for about 18 straight hours.
People hardly ever believe the fact that I don’t choose when to write and that whatever is is that I want to write about finds me and not the other way around.
The relationship between writing and I is one beyond my control, my poems find me. Poetry has found me through some of the most difficult times in my life, it has also found me at my happiest and sometimes it doesn’t even come looking for me. Its like a stranger that comes and goes hence I cannot claim it as my own, rather a visitor whose arrival I sometimes anticipate for months.
Poetry has been a stranger for the past 8 months; maybe it doesn’t see the need to comfort me, keep me company or add to my joy… Maybe poetry is giving me some time to find myself and resolve my issues, maybe it has packed and gone to never return but until then I’ll stay waiting.
I hope poetry returns to me to fill the blank pages on my notebooks and to give me that unique eye through which I see the world through its metaphors and strong vocabulary.
*Image source: http://dresswithcourage-elissa.blogspot.com/2011/12/blogging-through-writers-block.html
I was standing outside of work yesterday and happened to look up. The sky was a beautiful almost-summer blue and the day had a rather nice breeze. So of course, I mourned a bit the fact that I had to step inside and start a rather long work day. I looked at the tourists flocking down sixth avenue and felt a pang of jealousy (more envy) that I couldn't enjoy the day as they were.
Burning tires / photography by Mohammed Alsultan
My fingers yearn to strum her strings with my right elbow firmly gripped on her body.
My days aren’t the same without her beautiful tunes ringing in my head, her vibrations constantly birthing celestial melodies and her frequent collaborations with my poetry.
This is no poem, I just miss Amber, my beloved guitar. I cannot wait to go home and hold her close to me
By Tshauambea Ndou
RhymesAndFrames@gmail.com
