26th of July
by Paulster
Nine months and growing stronger,
Nine months and going further;
Through up and down, we're forward bound,
Give up? Oh no. Oh never...
We shared in laughter, shared in tears;
Yet we tread on despite our fears;
Onward we go, through high and low,
On to the coming of the years
From here, where do we go?
Even time and age do not know;
But with our love and God above
We'll get all our ducks in a row
We will both reach for our dreams
Impossible though it sometimes seems;
For He's by our side, our loving Guide
We can face each day with a beam
July 26 marks the nineth month since I and Melcia got together. I wrote this poem a day before. This is for her. This is for you LANGGA...
Unconquered
INVICTUS
by: William Ernest Henley
by: William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Invictus means unconquered.
I first came across this poem in my third year in high school. And I thank my adviser and English teacher Ms. Eltagon for that. (I haven't heard from her for ten years now)
Looking back, this poem has influenced me in more ways than one. “Adamant thoughts” is a product of “unconquerable soul.” However, I would never make my soul too unconquerable. In fact it has been conquered – by Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Here is a background of the author, courtesy of wikipedia.
At the age of 12 Henley became a victim of tuberculosis of the bone. In spite of this, in 1867 he successfully passed the Oxford local examination as a senior student. His diseased foot had to be amputated directly below the knee; physicians announced the only way to save his life was to amputate the other. Henley persevered and survived with one foot intact. He was discharged in 1875, and was able to lead an active life for nearly 30 years despite his disability. With an artificial foot, he lived until the age of 54. "Invictus" was written from a hospital bed.
i got print
On the first of this month, I posted something about chop suey. It was about a short write up I made for a local paper and my fear that it won’t get printed. Last Wednesday, my girlfriend called me and asked why am I in the paper. My face, name and thoughts got printed after all. And here is part of the paper’s page.
I’m going to point out four things about the print. First and the least of my concerns is that I am the oldest of the four people featured. Second, (this is quite something because it involves a legal document) my name’s misspelled. There is supposed to be a hyphen between Andre and Paul. If you think my name is weird, blame my dad.
If you have noticed, I am the only one who is making sense. And that is my third point. Well actually, my girlfriend pointed this out to me over the phone when she called. She even said my write-up was well written. And that was the first time she appreciated the way I write (but she appreciates some of my “pluses”; besides, I am not good at writing anyway… hehehe…).
And lastly, I would like to stress out that what was printed in the paper is not exactly as I wrote it. They edited it. I don’t mind if people edit my work as long as the essence, the soul of the prose, is not lost in the process. This is how it reads in the paper:
Chop suey! Honestly, I hated vegetables when I was a kid. Now, I like chop suey because it pretty much has everything in it. It is my way of making up for all the good stuff I’ve missed. It allows me to reflect on life. A spoon full of chop sues gives you random vegetables. Life, on the other hand, gives us random things at any given moment. We just have to realize that all these things can work harmoniously for good. The vegetables and spices in a bowl of chop suey are a delicious treat.
Notice that it started out pretty good. But at the end, it got messed up (please read my July 1 post for comparison). In my “manuscript” (hehe) the last sentence was supposed to be the most meaningful. In the print, they split it into two and the relation between a bowl of chop suey and life itself can not be read.
One writer said that writers write while editors ruin their work. Maybe he is right. And I am not a writer so it's all good... hehehe...
But nevertheless, I am quite happy that my thoughts have been heard (or printed and then read).
I’m going to point out four things about the print. First and the least of my concerns is that I am the oldest of the four people featured. Second, (this is quite something because it involves a legal document) my name’s misspelled. There is supposed to be a hyphen between Andre and Paul. If you think my name is weird, blame my dad.
If you have noticed, I am the only one who is making sense. And that is my third point. Well actually, my girlfriend pointed this out to me over the phone when she called. She even said my write-up was well written. And that was the first time she appreciated the way I write (but she appreciates some of my “pluses”; besides, I am not good at writing anyway… hehehe…).
And lastly, I would like to stress out that what was printed in the paper is not exactly as I wrote it. They edited it. I don’t mind if people edit my work as long as the essence, the soul of the prose, is not lost in the process. This is how it reads in the paper:
Chop suey! Honestly, I hated vegetables when I was a kid. Now, I like chop suey because it pretty much has everything in it. It is my way of making up for all the good stuff I’ve missed. It allows me to reflect on life. A spoon full of chop sues gives you random vegetables. Life, on the other hand, gives us random things at any given moment. We just have to realize that all these things can work harmoniously for good. The vegetables and spices in a bowl of chop suey are a delicious treat.
Notice that it started out pretty good. But at the end, it got messed up (please read my July 1 post for comparison). In my “manuscript” (hehe) the last sentence was supposed to be the most meaningful. In the print, they split it into two and the relation between a bowl of chop suey and life itself can not be read.
One writer said that writers write while editors ruin their work. Maybe he is right. And I am not a writer so it's all good... hehehe...
But nevertheless, I am quite happy that my thoughts have been heard (or printed and then read).
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