A Jar of Starlight

A Glimpse into Visions and Verses

Midge K. Manlapig

Philippine Copyright 2015

By Midge K. Manlapig

Il mio amico, tu sai chi sei. Non voglio parlare per nome; non voglio metterti in
imbarazzo.
Ma tu, caro signore, collettore del libellule che si , portato magia nella mia vita
con la vostra musica.
Grazie, amico.

Introduction
I have a confession to make: I never considered myself a poet. The whole time I was growing
up, I saw myself as a storyteller more than anything else. This resulted in numerous notebooks
scribbled over with prose: short stories for practice, then bits and pieces of conceptual work
that would eventually grow and bloom into longer, novel-length pieces.
Whatever poetry I set my hand to was decidedly romantic, given how I was the romantic sort,
rose-tinted glasses and all. But it never seemed to work and I often put poetry aside for the
more structured discipline of journalistic writing, the narrative flow of straight-up prose.
When I was finally diagnosed with clinical depression in 2005, I found myself numbed both
physically and emotionally. There was a period of several months when I tried to write a story
but failed miserably: the thoughts wouldnt come together, the pen wouldnt go, and I would sit
staring at the keyboard, totally bewildered.
Then, I tried my hand at shorter things: random verses scribbled during dark periods. And as
each verse grew into a poem, I found solace in words again. It was sporadic at first, but when I
began combining words and images, I realized that there were other stories to tell and a
completely different way of telling them.
The poems in this compilation were written between 2009 and early 2015 and originally posted
on my personal blogs and social media. It is my hope that you, dear reader, will find some
measure of comfort or a little bit of cheering up as you read them, even as I found my comfort
in writing them.

Dear Little Girl Whom I Used to Be

dear
sixteen-year-old
me:
this is
where
this is
when
your life
our life
gets complicated.
you got
wait-listed
by the
school
you wanted;
no biggie,
little girl,
theres always
something better.
youll rule
the roost,
youll seize
the day;
youll make
friends
enemies
allies
nemeses
in the next
four years;
youll rise
youll shine
youll stand out
youll stand strong.
dear
sixteen-year-old
me:
a wee

caveat
it will not
it will never
be easy:
a shrink
will nearly
break you;
love will
nearly
end you;
grandma will
be gone
not long
after
schooldays end;
you will weep
you will wander
but its
all good
youll fall
youll rise
youll dream
youll write.
youll make a
foe
lose a
friend;
give someone
up
for lost
but hell
find you
again;
youll give
up
the tuneless
for a
living
melody
and its
all good.
dear

sixteen-year-old
me:
this is where
our tale
begins;
the story of you
the making of me.

Daybreak / Nightfall

Moon at Dawn Tagaytay, 2015

let me give
you
your first
conversation
at days
beginning
and i will
let you
be the last
voice
i hear
at days
end.
you hold my
hand in
darkest hours;
i stand by
your side
as dawn
breaks through.

moon to your sun,

dusk to the dawn,
light and shadow
at play.
even as night
grows darker
or day
grows brighter,
i fear nothing,
youll dare anything
so long
as neither
lets go.

To Walk in Darkness
For everyone who has survived depression...
i stand alone.
i walk alone.
as i live and breathe,
i can do this.
i can swim through
the mire,
the dismal muck
of intrigue,
of slander,
of pain undeserved.
i can fight through
the forest of grief,
cut through the
thorns of ill-will,
the snares,
the tangled vines
of negativity
threatening to
smother me,
reduce me
to nothingness.
the world
tried to
break me,
shame me,
blame me,
ruin me.
it failed.
i walk in
darkness;
i slip through
shadow.

each step
leads me
farther away
from the
burden,
the vicious
specter
of hate,
of loathing.
each step
brings me
closer
to light,
redemption
most sweet.

Citrus

Orange and Lemons Makati, 2015

long have i
tasted
the bitterness:
the bracing,
the biting
sharpness
of solitude.
long have i
known
the caustic
burning
soul-souring
yearning.
grown silent
over time;
grown angrier
year upon
passing
year,

and yet:
an elusive
sweetness,
unseen,
unforeseen
affections;
kindnesses
hidden neath
brusqueness
casual humour;
sly smirk
concealing a
shyness;
hesitation in
words unuttered.
but tis true
tis true:
one
must needs
cut through
astringent aromatic
peel
strip off
bitter pith
and find
sweetness
near the
core
at the
heart
of it
all.

Baisers de Fraise (Strawberry Kisses)

Alone and Longing Quezon City, 2009

when we
were young,
i would
wonder
what your
kisses
would be like
would feel like
would taste like.
and my
thoughts
would stray
would fancy
would crave
strawberries:
summer-ripe
scarlet

succulent;
sharp yet sweet
fresh with
the promise
of dreams
of visions
of some
long-ago
eden.
and youd
break into
daydreams
with
flippant quip
fey smirk
and shatter
my illusions.
but to dream
is sweet;
to wonder,
divine.
and while
most a score
has passed,
i wonder
still;
and yearn
and long
and wish
for strawberries
ripened in
sunshine,
for days past,
for you.

Ballad of the Brave

when they cut us,
do we not bleed,
do we not hurt,
do we not fall?
yet:
we do not weep,
we do not cry,
we do not curse
the dim gray shades
of distant and recent
past.
we rise,
we raise
our arms
and fight
and strive
to hold back,
to force back,
to throw back,
to kick back
the darkness
ever encroaching;
the sorrow
that looms behind our
shoulders.
we bend;
we do not
break.
we fall;
we do not
shatter.
time and time

and time
again:
the fight goes on,
the fight lives on,
the fight rages on
around us,
inside us,
beside us.
we stare death
in the eye,
we spit in her
face,
we kick her
shins
in anger and
hate and
loathing and
spite and...
pity.
because we
who have borne
the slings,
those outrageous,
numbing,
paralyzing
shots
fate and worse
have thrown our
way
know one truth and ONE
truth
alone:
we have
nothing
to fear
but fear
itself.

Awake / Aware
i cant sleep:
not tonight,
not while
a hundred
a thousand
a million
runaway
thoughts
flit and flutter
in my
head.
i cant dream:
not tonight
not when
visions
walk past me
like figures
from a
storybook
come to
life
in living colour.
i cant
stay still
not while the
air
around me
buzzes
volatile
vibrant
vivacious;
millions of
tiny unseen
explosions
reactions

emotions
come sparkling
to the
surface.
how can
one sleep,
how can
one rest
when a living
breathing
world
beckons you
to come
and play?

Above Grief

In Mourning Makati, 2014

Look up,
look up
and see
beyond the
devastation
around you;
Look up,
look up
and see
the light,
the brightness
that comes
after the
dark.
Nothing
ends here,
nothing

stops here.
Rise
above your
grief, look up
with
gratitude
for
what came
before;
for
what comes
after,
for the
sun
that peers
through,
breaking through
gray clouds.
For
death
is never
an
ending.

Confinement Escapable

Solitary Confinement Tagaytay, 2015

we confine
ourselves
in prisons
of our own
making:
walls not
of stone
or steel
but of
harder
harsher

stuff:
self-loathing
loneliness
grief
yearning
envy.
four walls
silent witnesses
every tear
every sigh
every cry
raised to
heaven.
come away
from that
chamber;
flee your
self-imposed
exile!
the world
needs
exploring!
come away
and learn
and laugh
and love
and live
once more.

A Jar of Starlight, Please

Captured Starlight Paranaque, 2015

would you
think it
cruel
if i ask
you
to catch
some
starlight
in a jar
for me?
would you
think it
mad
to ask
for a

trifle
an unusual
an impossible
frivolous
trumpery
thing?
i sorely
need
a little
magic
right now
a little
light
to brighten
this darkened
this blighted
life
of mine.
would you
let me
catch
a kiss
a smile
of yours
something
anything
to make
me feel
this life
is still
worth living,
that magic
exists,
that miracles
still happen
despite this
miasmic
darkness
that threatens
to snuff
out
the light

that glows
from within.
so please:
catch me
a bit
a glimmer
of starlight
and we
can share;
there will
be magic
enough
for two.

About the Author

A Public Relations alumna of the Philippine Womens University, Midge K. Manlapig started her
writing career in 1993 at the age of seventeen.
Her writing has been featured in Teen Magazine Philippines, MEGA, and she used to write a
fortnightly column for Woman Today Glitter. In 2000, her essay Why I Hate Colegiala Party
Girls was included in Youngblood 2.0, an anthology of essays written by Filipino twentysomethings.
Midges poetry can be read online via The Darker Side of Me (http://malishvish.wordpress.com);
her other blog, Midge in the Kitchen (http://sybdive.wordpress.com), is all about food, fun, and
everything in between.
An advertising professional and independent public relations practitioner, she currently works in
Taguigs Bonifacio Global City.

Follow Midge on Social Media via:

Facebook:

Twitter:@murasakimeg

Instagram:

http:// www.facebook.com/darkersideofmidge

@deessedomestique