Live poets' societé

I hadn’t realized that Alliance Francaise de Manille had been conducting the annual reading affair billed as Printemps des Poetes for the last dozen years now, until the call came anew for participation in the 13th edition!

Springtime of Poets! That’s what it means. And here in our country, every year there’s a crocus here and there that join the scene, so dynamic has our versifying been.

Mag:Net may be in hibernation for the nonce, with Sir Rock Drilon devoting more of his time and genius to majas nesjudas in the name of his art, and the former ringmaster of the Happy Mondays reading series, signore Joel Toledo, now living it up and being happy from Monday to Sunday at the Rockefeller Foundation’s Villa Serbelloni in Bellagio, Italia — shooting up all those misty landscapes, ruins and greenery and lakes as views of verisimilitude well above what George Clooney sees from his own sometime villa, down below.

But Joel should be experiencing spring soon. Forward, season of buds and breaking out, of colors of life sprouting, and us here resetting our clock calculation by an hour, so that we know that an NBA 8 p.m. EST game translates exactly to Manila time, live on TV. 

Joel Salud

For all the spring in his steps, and the daily poem he posts on FB as a kind of beh! — Joel missed the 13th Printemps last Thursday, March 17, beh ka rin! It has grown, it has evolved, it has expanded to now contain varieties of poetry that make the genre an infinitely living thing.

Thanks to AFM Presidente Deanna Ongpin Recto and AFM Directeur Adjoint Mickael Balcon, the annual reading has grown to be a must affair for most poets and all poetry lovers.

There is beauty and brilliance onstage. And all that concupiscence and courage makes way at the intermezzo for the couscous that has never been better, this time even served with lechon from the Belgian embassy! And the wine flows and the poets from 17 to 70 take turns inebriating everyone who comes and stays to listen, sharing in the bounty of our eternal springtime of poetry.  

This year the theme was “D’Infinis paysage” or “Infinite Landscapes” — with the rationale expressed thus: 

“Expressing the deep links that unite man and nature, celebrating or questioning them, is one of the most constant features of universal poetry.

“Seas and mountains, islands and shores, forests and rivers, skies, winds, suns, deserts and hills, like a hinterland, most poems carry the memory of landscapes crossed and lived in.

“Recognizing oneself as dependent on the infinite faces of the world, this is undoubtedly how Holderlin wanted a poet to live on earth.”

Asha Macam

A score and four of poets took the plunge, like William Holden in Love is A Many-Splendored Thing, in their minds caressing what that cheongsam slit revealed yet concealed.  

Orientally, it proved prescient. Who was the poet we met upon our entry into the venue, who said he should have written and submitted something on earthquakes and tsunamis? 

Abdon “Jun” Balde broke the ice with his “Dream of Skycrapers.” Frankie Llaguno may well have encapsulated what tragically occurred in our neighboring Land of the Rising Sun with his statement poem titled “Ang kalikasan at ang mga tao.” Joel Salud, Philippine Graphic magazine’s editor-in-chief and literary editor, countered with “Faith.” Then the young Christine Joy O. Castillo read in French: “Les paysages en moi.”

No-shows were Mikael de Lara Co (held up at some palace for more words, other than poetry) and Alma Anonas-Carpio (because her beloved spouse Rel is still recuperating from a brush with a stroke, and he’s no painter but a philosopher).

Every year there are showstoppers, and on alternate years, two sisters take turns providing the scintillation with a performance piece. This time it was our pards-babe Beatrix Syjuco who mesmerized with the poetic appurtenances of gawgaw and a shrink wrap and glued pages of poetry that were torn and scattered as her tribute to “Domino Nation.”

Ed Maranan communicated the next day that he had gathered up some of the scraps from the floor, and hoped they’d fetch a fortune when Trix goes global, as she undoubtedly will, for she’s just warming up. I had done the same, picked up torn pieces of paper, and read later in the night from one, in her own write: “(take my mouth in yours & let this be our brave umbrella.)” Hmm. Against acid rain? Your guess is as good as mine and never the twain shall meet, eh wot? 

In her third year of participation, fitness buff Asha Macam read her poem “Clouds.” Followed the piece of Jacques Chessex, “Je regarde la chaine des Alpes” by Markus Ruckstuhl. Ed Maranan read “Sailing on the Fourth of July.” Vim Nadera recruited Tapati, the honeyed vocalist of Davao’s Bagong Lumad, for another stunner, titled “Epiko ko” — Vim barefoot and in lumad attire, raising his behind to the audience as he supplicated over reedy things and rice grains.

Maxine Syjuco

My piece “The Beach, Plus Pablo” preceded Maxine Syjuco’s “Weeds and Rags” — a standard reading this time, from the lectern, but still entrancing, not only cuz she’s so much prettier than me, or Vim for that matter. Yanna Verbo Acosta also took a leave from performance poetry and instead read her intensely heartfelt “Dreamscaping.”

Then came visiting slam poet Ariana Pozzuoli of Toronto, with an arresting, thumping recitation of “The joke is on you!” A pity she’s leaving us soon, if she hasn’t yet.

The buffet and wine intermission ended and Tata Poblador entertained with a musical number from Jacques Brel, “Ne me quitte pas,” with masterful accompaniment on the classical guitar by Maestro Lester Demetillo, so much so that they couldn’t get away sans encore — “Autumn Leaves” no less, but still in French.

 My beauteous comadre Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta read her prizewinning “As far as Cho-Fu-Sa.” My brawny compadre Cesare A.X. Syjuco intoned “The world turns.” Noel “Boyet” del Prado read “Hardin sa Ibawaw ng Davao.” Gémino H. Abad recited, from memory, his paean to Negros Oriental’s “Casaroro Falls,” while Marne L. Kilates evoked the rice terraces of “Bangaan,” and Victor Peñaranda ruminated in depth with “At the Buddhist Garden.”

National Artist Virgilio S. Almario’s “Halimuyak ng Pulo” was interpreted by Marivic Rufino and Marne Kilates. My ward Johanna Carissa Fernandez read her “Currents.” Ramon C. Sunico harked back luminously to “Mindoro,” while my AdMU Poetry class star Andrea Levinge read her “The deepening sea.” Anne Carly Abad (no relation to Jimmy, albeit a promising challenger in both poetry and fiction) charmed us with “Fern.” And Gian Paolo Lao wrapped up the reading with a finely chosen “In my country,” which had the foreign audience nodding in appreciation.

Thus did the 13th edition of Printemps des Poetes unfold last Thursday — unrivalled thus far in its variety and quality of poems and poets-as-readers. “It’s Spring...” once jubilantly sang e.e. cummings. Oui, monsieur, “nothing, not even the rain, has such small hands...”

Art lovers, check out Sheen Ochavez’ first solo of nine wonderful paintings, titled “I Love Again, Naturally,” at La Regalade Bistro on Arnaiz St., Makati, which came off the wraps last Wednesday, March 16, and will remain on show for several weeks.

Sheen lived in the U.K. since 1992 and read English Law in London. She then pursued her passion for painting and enrolled at The Heatherley School of Fine Arts in Chelsea three years ago. She also attended Drawing classes at The Royal Academy School organized by the New English Art Club, and then recently at the Museum of Fine Arts School in Boston and the GVW Smith Museum of Art in Massachusetts.

Her oil paintings are quite remarkable, divvied up into nudes and landscapes. As with our thematic poetry reading at Alliance Francaise, one might say that they manifest a soul engaged in the infinite passage through landscape, including that lilting one of love for art and fellowman.