Singing Along

 

To be poet one needs be sociologist.
Especially in the Philippines, my home,
where poets are alienated as the
moon's an alien in an ice cream saloon.

In my hometown I feel inadequate
in wanting to become Poet. I can't
understand why my people love
the sound of the sing-along machines

of our town district's frustrated
singers, good singers and funny
singers alike, and yet either hate
the sound of a typewriter (when

I begin to face it) or make a big
issue out of who it is that's typing
—asking the congregation what
may be the object of my writing.

I also can't explain why my
neighbors, who love all kinds
of noise, always feel envy when
I begin to play my guitar and

would start to whistle tunes
of their own before I could begin
to write a stanza in A#m. I
need a sociologist in me, for I

feel like a poet who cannot
begin to explain even the most
near phenomenon of being Filipino.
Or maybe, to write a poem here

one must choose easy subjects,
or make noise abroad to record it.

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 1999, 2004 Vicente-Ignacio Soria de Veyra. All rights reserved. Readers are welcome to view, save, file and print out single copies of this webpage for their personal use. No reproduction, display, performance, multiple copy, transmission, or distribution of the work herein, or any excerpt, adaptation, abridgment or translation of same, may be made without written permission from the author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this work will be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

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