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Ryan Gayagay Poem
“Guilty, Sir, if you insist that I am--
Yes, ‘twas I who cut her with a knife and
Took her heart out, so very gently while
It was beating--still beating in my palms.
From the cavity where her heart had lain
I placed it in an ornate box with care,
A vessel lined with the finest satin,
Encrusted around with glittering gems
That shone and sparkled like her living eyes,
Which had enthralled me when she was alive.
“What? Remorse, Sir? No, absolutely not!
With what I did, I am most satisfied.
Know, Sir, that she had promised me her heart
When we were young and very much in love--
This love we nurtured, as seasons went by
And yearly sealed in sincere assurance,
Till she slowly became cold and distant,
Not speaking a word, till through circumstance,
She confessed that someone else had her heart,
So I--I took what was pledged to be mine.
“Where, Sir? It’s in a space under my bed,
Where nightly I take it out of its place
And lay it on my pillow near my head
That I may caress it and dream of days
When lovers stood fast on what they had pledged.
Please, Sir, if you’d retrieve the box for me,
This dank dark cell would be a paradise,
For her heart would bear me such company
That even the loss of freedom would suffice
To make me feel I am a man most free.”
April 2, 2023
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
We were just children of different ages,
From varied places brought on different days
By the police to that one children’s home.
At first, we did not know each other’s name,
But we soon developed a bond that was
Peculiar to people in the same plight.
We were victims of abuse and neglect
In our own homes by family and kin,
So we chose to run and live on the streets.
We rummaged through garbage for scraps to sell,
At night, in parks or in pavements, we slept
‘Til the police took us in their mobile.
There were babies, too, who had been disclaimed
In hospitals just after they were born,
By their own mothers--too young or poor,
Or afraid of responsibility.
They occupied one of the building’s wings:
When one cried, the others joined in sympathy.
We were fed, clothed, and we had warm beds;
We helped Nanay* cook and prepare our meals
Tatay* cleaned the halls and kept the garden.
The other staff were very good to us.
Thus, in that place, though momentarily,
We had a semblance of a family.
Sometimes a new child was brought in--frightened,
And shy, till he warmed to our company.
The saddest part was when one had to go--
Released due to overage, or finally
Found by relations, or for adoption.
These goodbyes always brought tears to our eyes.
It was in that children’s home where I learned
Many things about love, loss, life, and pain,
And why it was that the world wasn’t fair,
And why there were those who still remained kind.
I found solace in people I barely knew
And real friendship in an unlikely place.
I can’t help but wonder where they are now;
It’s been one score and ten since my release.
Some names and faces I can still recall
But some have faded with the years that passed.
All I can do is wish them well and pray,
Like Tiny Tim, “God bless us, everyone!”
*Nanay is a Filipino term for Mother; the male counterpart is Tatay.
April 10, 2023
Lower Fairview, Baguio City
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
When the world seems to me an unbearable place
And troubles weigh too heavily on my shoulders
And try as I may there can be found no solace
For my pain, my anguish, and my sorrow to soothe;
When I feel like God and the angels all conspired
To deny me the pleasures of wealth, friends, and fame
And thus alone I rue my fate and call for Death,
In silent cries, to come and my existence end.
Then I hear her voice and the clouds seem to dispel,
With gentle tones that pull my feet back on the ground.
Her kindness, patience, care, understanding, and love
Awaken me from brooding too much on the dark;
Her tender touch calms the storm brewing in my heart,
She drives away the raging demons from my mind.
Thus, when I no longer want to cling on to life
She comes to me and somehow things turn out right.
She lifts my mind from wallowing in misery
To a brighter and a more pleasant reverie.
September 29, 2024
Lower Fairview, Baguio City, Philippines
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2024
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
A violin is like a lover--
A beautiful work of Art--
Precious, delicate, fragile.
It has to be handled with care,
Caressed, fondled, touched,
Hugged--but not too tight,
Or break it might
And hurt you in its breaking.
Hold the violin by its neck
The way you would hold your lover--
Firm but with the right pressure.
Look at it at arm’s length,
Admire its waist,
Lay your chin on its rest,
Close your eyes and feel
Your lover’s chest.
Press its strings as if you were
Pressing your lover’s skin,
With fingertips tripping over
Like the dainty feet of a dancer.
And the violin’s scroll--
Isn’t it a pretty sight?
Like a lover’s head bowed
When you were still both shy.
May 1, 2024
Lower Fairview, Baguio City
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2024
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
It all began with a tiny spark
That quickly grew to a roaring blaze;
Its flaming arms reaching every space
Devouring all that in its path lay.
It was close to midnight, who would’ve thought
That the night would be pierced by this onslaught?
Firefighters came and with all their might fought
This treacherous foe, its destruction sought.
So we stood and watched helpless on the side
As the fire licked all the merchandise,
And as embers flew, leaving things to dust,
We clutched each other, said, “In God we trust.”
What went up in smoke in that dreadful fire?
It wasn’t just cash, for some it was life;
A new home for a family of five
Or funds for the education of a child.
We lament, therefore, this great tragedy
That will surely live long in our memory
But we'll rise like a phoenix from its ashes--
No adversity shall bend us to our knees.
March 16, 2023
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
I
Hear the bouncing of the balls--
Basketballs!
What a sound of merriment they cause when each ball falls!
How they echo, echo, echo,
Inside the gymnasium walls,
Arriving at a crescendo
While the spectators shout “Bravo!”
Drowning the referee’s calls;
And the players start
To make their last dart
Amidst the reverberation ricocheting off the stalls
From the balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
From the bouncing and the dribbling of the balls.
II
Hear the ticking of the balls,
Ping-pong balls!
What a soft and easy sound comes from their bounce and rolls!
In the crowded room that’s bright
How they fill it with delight!
Like the ticking of a clock,
Steady but fast,
Or the picking of a lock,
What tune they make with their ceaseless tick-tock,
Until at last--
Oh, what a miss that appalls
The audience that has remained speechless in the halls
How it falls!
How it scrolls!
And the erring player rolls
His fists at his own pitfalls
By the swinging and his missing
To hit the balls, balls, balls
The balls, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
To hit the light and small and saffron ping-pong balls!
III
Hear the loud thud of the balls--
Volleyballs!
What feeling of suspense is caused by their great falls!
Across the nets stretched tight
How they gracefully take flight!
The watchers anticipating,
Who would win they keep waiting,
Breathlessly.
Until the umpire from his platform blows a long shrill whistle,
And the balls drop on the ground like useless heads of missile.
Then tempers start to bristle
In the air there is a rustle
From both player and spectator
To win the set or never
Hold the trophy covetously.
Oh, the balls, balls, balls--
"Pick them up!" the umpire bawls.
Once again
The balls are hit, tossed, and passed
And the game goes on full blast
While the players on each side dare not complain
Yet the audience fully knows
By the spiking
And the digging
How the game would sooner close.
Who would be covered in palls
Suffer beating,
‘Cause of losing,
And forced to receive catcalls
For dismally failing to score and keep afloat the balls,
The volleyballs--
The volleyballs, balls, balls, balls,
Balls, balls, balls--
In the scrambling and the spiking of the balls!
March 18, 2023
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
"You dance love, and you dance joy and you dance dreams." - Gene Kelly
I am lost in an endless dream
My love and I are together
Dancing hand in hand, we're a team
Like the zephyr and a feather
Swirling and swaying to the beat
We are caught up in love's sweet trance
To the music, tapping our feet
Adrift in our fantasy dance
I am drunk with his sweet perfume
As I lay my head on his chest
We glide and float across the room
My trembling heart against his, pressed.
All around us are empty seats
And memories of happy years
And all the while his firm heartbeats,
They sound like music to my ears.
I look to see my lover’s face
And his eyes seem to glow with fire
I hold him in a tight embrace
Like that a Muse gives to her lyre.
So on we dance and time stands still
We ignore each passing hour
We are imprisoned by the thrill
Being in each other’s power.
I do not want this dream to end
To wake up and find I’m alone
But dawn breaks in to apprehend
Into the real world, I’m thrown
I await night’s darkness to sleep
To dream of my love and our dance
I am lost in fantasy deep
Hope this will last longer perchance
March 31, 2023
Among 1st Place
Collab with Jo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joanna Daniel
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
He came and dwelt among men
And shared a vision of heav'n;
To Him some opened their doors,
But more denied their favors.
With sinners He sat and supped;
Thus, others called Him corrupt.
But they did not understand:
He changed their hearts with His hand.
He walked and taught in byways
And always with gentle gaze;
Some gladly took His offer,
Others remained a scoffer.
Still He sought those who were lost,
Those who felt were tempest-tossed.
He healed the sick--gave them hope!--
Granted them the strength to cope.
He knew He had few days left
And sorrowed for those bereft;
In His heart, He put us first--
Both good and bad and the worst.
In spite of His love so clear,
We pierced His side with a spear.
Then as He drew His last breath,
For us all He conquered Death.
April 6, 2023
Write a Jueju-Qijue Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
I love the wind
Blowing softly against my face,
Fanning it on a hot Summer’s day,
Stirring my hair;
Making the branches and leaves quiver
And the grasses to dance and sway,
And all the while
Whispering a soothing melody
If one but listens intently.
I hate the wind
Roaring violently,
Making the branches and leaves fall,
Bending the grasses till they break,
Whipping the dust around
That stings the eyes,
Finding its way through nooks and crannies,
And whistling an eerie tune
Auguring a storm.
I’m scared of the wind
Blasting at everything in its path,
Causing whole trees to tumble,
And flattening grass, blossoms, and all;
Generating huge waves
That claw their way to shore;
Crumpling poles, posts, and walls,
Howling and shrieking like a banshee,
And snatching the life of the unwary.
April 23, 2023
Among 1st Place
Writing Challenge - ‘W’ Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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Ryan Gayagay Poem
When I in silent moments ponder life
And think of all the suffering I see,
I can’t but weep because of all the strife,
And wish for how this thing and that should be.
But in so wishing all the more my pain
Increases still as though to test my will--
How far I’d bear this grief yet to retain
A sense of hope amidst a world of ill.
While in this rueful state I think of you,
Your charming smile, pure heart, and innocence;
What joy I feel inspires me to push through
In spite of all that don’t make any sense.
A Light and Reason in a dark abyss:
You are to me like Dante's Beatrice*.
*In Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, Beatrice is a symbol of Divine Love and serves as his guide in Paradiso.
April 4, 2023
Baguio City
Copyright © Ryan Gayagay | Year Posted 2023
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