MOONSET AT CENTRAL REVIVING PASSIONS: REFLECTIONS ON MY CREATIVE

PARK STATION OF ST. PAUL WRITING GRANT

SUBTERRANEAN RIVER
NATIONAL PARK Noel Christian A. Moratilla

John Iremil E. Teodoro As the recipient of a creative writing grant from the school’s
Institutional Research and Development Office, I try to rekindle a
This morning, passion I abandoned for so long and considered not returning to – the
after the faint scent writing of poetry. Despite a not-so-impressive academic performance,
of sea grasses I became enamored with poetry in my youth. So enamored that I
awakened me, would memorize poems or recite them over and over like mantras. So
I followed enamored that I would tear some pages from anthologies I borrowed
the setting moon from the school library, so that during solitary moments I could devour
in the reef flats a stanza or two from poets I looked up to – Ginsberg, de Ungria,
in front of my Neruda, Traki. Since the Internet would not be popular until a couple
bamboo cottage. of years after, I took pains to satisfy my obsession. I remember
occasionally saving up my allowance in college to buy a copy of the
I nearly stepped on Manila Bulletin’s Philippine Panorama or the Sunday Inquirer
a parrotfish Magazine to check the poems in the literary section.
that I was caught In poetry I found solace from the crisis of youth; but it also
by the low tide. fueled the angst of my juvenile years. Eventually, I tried my hand at
It was big composing my own verses, submitted them for publication, but not a
as my slipper. few were rejected outright. The more fortunate ones appeared online
I picked or in print, and one earned first place in a poetry writing/reading
its slimy body contest sponsored by the State University’s Creative Writing Center.
and returned it But having produced and published some poems (many of which I
to the sea. now disown) as a college student in Intramuros and as a struggling
young professional, I eventually fell out of love for the “sullen craft”
In its excitement and devoted more time to conducting research in keeping with the
it forgot to rigors of graduate school. The politics I learned to embrace weaned
thank me. me further from creative writing, and this gave me the impression that
It didn’t even bother poetry – this “mere” play with words – was nothing but an ego-
to look back – oriented display of verbal virtuosity. Like a disgruntled lover, I
It swam quickly dismissed poetry as gibberish, as a remote and difficult code requiring
away from me. monastic doggedness to be deciphered.
But now, this seasoned novice (pardon the oxymoron) has
It dived towards the direction decided to give it one more try. I am but a dabbler and I do not aspire
of the horizon “literary” fame or glory. I do not intend to bend the gods on high or
where the moon move the infernal powers, to power a phrase from Virgil. I would like
was hiding. to point out that with the grant, my concern is two-fold: The first is to
Perhaps in my next visit help widen my own horizon as an educator, especially one who
that parrotfish happens to teach writing and literature. As I require my students to
will surprise me write, I feel that I should also do the same – to walk the talk, as some
with a greeting. would put it. Secondly, the slim collection of poems I shall produce
It shall brag to me would be a modest contribution to helping invigorate the school’s
about its scales liberal arts culture. It is my hope in this regard that other creative
painted by voices, with enough encouragement, will also seek to be heard.
the setting moon.

WRITER’S BLOC

1. “The poet makes himself a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses.” – Arthur
Rimbaud
2. “A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.” – Robert Frost\
3. “Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.” – T.S Eliot
4. “Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
5. “We were clever enough to turn a laundry list into poetry.” – Umberto Eco