Poetry and Creative Nonfiction

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

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