Breathing Poetry and Drinking Songs
“One Night Only: A night of poetry, spectacle, and songs” was the first poetry reading that I ever witnessed. Of course this night was very different from the poetry readings done in my Lit14 class and Fil12 class (In Lit14, we read poems because it is required not because we like to, although sometimes I also like it. In Fil12, our teacher reads some Filipino poems for us as part of the prayer/introduction for the class.) Located at the MVP roof deck, a very natural, airy, and carefree atmosphere was created. Away from the usual background of college life, teachers, poets, and students were able to see things in a different angle, to see beauty in the form of words and rhythm, and to experience beauty in an elevated consciousness.
Managed by the English Department, the program showcased the talents of some of the members of the faculty. Even before the program started, I have already eyed some of the teachers whose faces were familiar because of Glenn Mas’ Death of Memory, which I have watched last year and I was unaware back then that there were members of the English Department in the cast. When Leo Locsin led the prayer with a wonderful song number with some people from the Glee Club, I thought, “What else do these teachers keep from us?” I mean, it’s nice to know that your teachers can do more than teaching, that they also have a life besides preparing for their lectures and computing for your grades.
When the poetry reading started, I could really feel the waves of seemingly infinite images splash against me. Really, there is a difference between reading a poem and listening to someone read it. When I read a poem, of course I read it from my own point of view. Unconsciously, I give it a new meaning based on how my mind interprets the words. I’m just too busy understanding it, unraveling its message, story or theme. I always find myself scrambling for definitions of unfamiliar words (in my case, I’ve already encountered a lot of unfamiliar words). I always forget something that is more important, though I really don’t know what THAT is. I think it’s the essence, or more like the soul of the poem. When I listen to someone read a poem, I hear more, I feel more, and I see more. I feel its soul. There’s nothing more significant than listening, then everything’s just going to follow. It seemed like going under hypnosis and I was forced to swim with the images that the reader kept on flowing through his/her voice.
Of all the poetry readings done, I would never forget Mr. Migoy Lizada and Miss Anina Abola’s poetry readings for making my heart throb with overwhelming emotions. Mr. Migoy Lizada’s “The Morning After” was a very good poem. He warned beforehand that the author is different from the persona, a general knowledge in poetry though it takes time to fully master its context. Personally, I think that his poem is in its best when being read, taking particular stress on the same lines being repeated all throughout the poem – which bear different meanings when interchanged with the other lines. While Miss Anina Abola’s sad poem and letter made me teary-eyed. Again, I have proved how sensitive I can be towards other people’s pains, wounds, and memories.
More poems were read and students from Korea, Japan, and Cambodia even shared a piece of their culture. As the Cambodian student read his poem by chanting/singing it, I realized that our very own “Pasyon” is not, after all, exceptional. As of how I understood the student, Cambodian poems are really interesting because you can read/sing/chant it along with any rhythm that you want, just like our “Pasyon.”
As a final presentation, a Lit class performed an abridged version of Grease. I could almost see Zac Efron of High School Musical in the lead actor, while I bet that the lead actress is even better than Vanessa Hudgens, also from HSM. This mini-play reminded me of my experience in producing an abridged version of Miss Saigon with my classmates back in high school. I didn’t play any of the major roles, but I did most of my part backstage. Putting up a play is a tedious activity, thus the power of teamwork and group effort becomes its heart.
As the Grease presentation ended, the time to end the one and only night of poetry, spectacle, and songs came. I never regret staying until the last minute - which was spent stacking monoblock chairs - for that was one of my most fascinating night. Hopefully, I am looking forward for another “one and only night.”
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