The Citizen On Mars :: Black :: December

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The Citizen On Mars is by Major Tom. Blogging on Philippine Politics, Global Issues, Finance, Economics, Environmental Concerns, Social Matters, Web Designs and Personal Lives. Writing from Zamboanga City, Philippines.

Black

Personal and Family, Literature |

By MAJOR TOM | December 5, 2007

I’ve been too busy these days that there’s some slack in my blogging. But these sort of days may not be forever, and for certain there comes a time when normalcy would begin again.

For the meantime, I’d like to post this poem that I have wrote the most recent of all. “Black” is the title—perhaps inspired by the song title of one of my most fave rock band---or otherwise. But “Black” as a title is solid like a pure jewel, unhindered in its splendor, and unbending in its stand.

As a poem, it might not be so joyful and exuberant---but this might be just perhaps of some coyness that I felt once, when I wrote this poem specifically, and the seemingly downward emotions that are contained within it might or might not have been appertaining. It might have been of depression or of an emotional meltdown. Of desire and despair. Or the emotions might have just been a fruit of my playful discretion. Whatever.

Here it goes, I hope it would gain some form of critical triumph from my blog friends who would come and read this poem, and then criticize it. I hope they’d be so generous with their words.

BLACK

Black as the night,
Dark like the moon on this August evening,
While the sea heaves a silent sigh,
I can see black as the color of the night.

Black is the heart that yearns so mightily,
A sudden scream, like thunder and lightning,
And in the midst of the ocean by which once I claim,
Lies the blackest of all sentiments.

Black is the elixir of love
That heals the cut that you made,
And dances away the sorrow
Of a forgotten kingdom where no one lives.

So dark is the sky
That bore your wounds,
With lies and masquerades, so malevolent
Like the edges of a cliff.

Black is the color of dreams,
That once was had been laid on my shoulders, as Atlas once did--
That now, dark is the road
That once had led me to you.

11 Comments »

Schumey says; December 6, 2007 @ 8:33 am

I hope you can write about the plight of the Sumilao farmers. Thanks
Major Tom says; December 6, 2007 @ 1:36 pm

I'll do that soonest time possible.
tutubi sa tabi-tabi says; December 6, 2007 @ 4:07 pm

i also used to write poems even a song but not anymore. wish to do it again but inspiration maybe is lacking. maybe i juest have to travel again to a remote place away fro it all
Schumey says; December 6, 2007 @ 4:31 pm

Thanks Tom, highly appreciate it.
Sidney says; December 6, 2007 @ 7:50 pm

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." -Soren Kierkegaard-
Major Tom says; December 6, 2007 @ 8:14 pm

To tutubi: Inspiration is one whole chunk of creating poetry, without it is like running a car without gasoline in its tank.
Major Tom says; December 6, 2007 @ 8:16 pm

To schumey: I wish this grand protest would inure to positive things for them.
Major Tom says; December 6, 2007 @ 8:21 pm

To Sidney: Great observation and it would be the case majorly.

Bono of U2 once sang that 'every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief, all kill their inspiration, and sing about their grief'.

Yet, i'd like to clarify that one musn't really suffer in order to become a good poet;it is not the case.

Bob Dylan is considered for his great lyricism and he sings about the grief of others, of the society, of the people.
Abaniko says; December 6, 2007 @ 11:43 pm

So much emotion is put in this poem. The blackest of black.
bw says; December 9, 2007 @ 11:43 pm

very nice poem Major Tom. Boy, you do have a knack for poetry
craig says; December 17, 2007 @ 11:11 am

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