The poems that fill a teenager’s heart

( Part 2 of a series on Speaking the Language of the Heart - Poetry )

Dr. Jose Rizal, our national hero, wrote his nephew from his exile in Dapitan, "Nephew, always remember that real education is not confined to the mind alone but that it should touch the heart…" His dream of helping Filipinos help themselves was fulfilled here when he organized the residents to set up the town water line and a school for working teenagers.

This article is a sequel to last week’s Speaking the Language of the Heart — Poetry. Just as Dottoressa Maria Montessori observed that teenagers’ intelligence wanes and weakens, compared to the enormous reasoning power of the 7s to the 12s, it gives way to emotional maturation and idealistic aspirations. This article contains excerpts of essays and poems that filled a teenager’s heart from a book of 97 poems and 13 essays. My husband, Max Soliven, as a teenager wrote this during the war years and "liberation days" between 1941 to 1948. He lived in Sto. Domingo, Ilocos Sur after losing his father Assemblyman Benito Soliven in the Death March. His widowed mother took him and his eight brothers and sisters to their old home in Herran, Paco and found it burned to the ground.

Dedication to My Father (July 11, 1948, Herran, Manila)

Dear father, I know this tardy, tawdry tribute will not reach you, you who so loved poetry that you made your whole life a poem. Yet, I did not hesitate to fashion this garland for your brow. For you would have wanted me to fashion such a wreath although my fingers were clumsy at their task because to your way of thinking the noblest thing in life second to the love and service of God is to be able to create. How well remembered are the lines you loved: How characteristic of you. You said:

"If I would have my name endure

I’ll write it in the hearts of men…"

The Young Guerillas — A Part of Our Nation’s Shining Past

Bataan had just fallen to the Japanese.

Corregidor, that last stronghold still holding against the invader was on the verge of being overran. The "Voice of the Freedom"… that daily radio broadcast carrying a message of hope from the embattled Rock was on the brink of being snuffed out.

Young Carlos Malonso, not yet seventeen, in Japanese-occupied Manila and his teen-age friends, hatched a wild scheme. They tunneled into one of the many warehouses commandeered by the Japanese, ...spirited away case after case of canned milk and other impounded food. They sold these at the black market and accumulated a war chest which enabled them to procure, in bits and pieces, crude radio transmitting equipment.

Just as the Japanese were swarming all over Corregidor in April 1942, and the "Voice of Freedom" was signing off with its final brave message of farewell, Malonso’s homemade transmitter went on the air on the same radio frequency. This mysterious new radio station startled Manilans. Malonso and his youthful Gang of Six called their defiant daily broadcasts — "The Voice of Juan de la Cruz"…

They carted their guerrilla transmitter from place to place to evade being discovered by the Japanese… Finally, the Japanese caught up with them. Malonso had recently married a 16-year old sweetheart Violeta and the couple was asleep in their Paco home when the dreaded Kempetai broke in and seized them. In similar lightning raids the other young fugitives were seized. For months, Malonso and his friends underwent brutality.

I got the story of his final weeks from not just Manny Manahan but Advertising Executive Dindo Gonzales. The heroism of Carlos Malonso would have vanished unnoticed were it not for the fact that Manahan and Gonzales occupied the adjoining cell of the prison. They could hear the Kempetai beating up Malonso while he cried out over and over again. He would not ever recant. A gasping Malonso shouted, "You can not make me give up! If I have to live my life all over again, I’d do exactly what I did!"

…One of his jailers paid him the highest tribute a Japanese warrior could say of his enemy — "He died bravely!"

Muralla (September, 1943, Herran, Manila)

Adjacent to his school, Ateneo at Padre Faura, is the historical fort of Intramuros which inspired Max’s 10 stanza poem.

Stone on stone, block on block, stands still the Muralla,

Mute as though the voice had fled from its grim walls.

Those ramparts — once flashing with steel —

Harkening to the grim thunder of cannonade —

Bristling with the lofty banners of España

Stand silent, after over three centuries —

Nay, five centuries of grandeur and glory —

Sanguinary reminder of haughty Castillian

Domination in the Philippine Isles…

Silent canons face the bay —

Unspeaking testimonial of a once mighty Spain —

Now speechless and unmoving.

Were shouts of "SANTIAGO!" and the frantic VIVAS —

Of a once proud dynasty echoed and re-echoed —

Is grim — forbidding Silence.

Where the tumultuous crash of arms, and the cries of battle

Once resounded —

As the knights of Spain defended this Muralla —

Against the English Privateers —

The rat builds his hole — and the cat prowls nightly.

Muralla — where is thy glory?

It is gone…

Prayer (November 1, 1943, Herran, Manila)

Every morning, Max’s mother made sure that he and Willie, his younger brother would serve Mass at the Ateneo chapel.

Pray now, my friend – pray now, to God,

For there is neither glory, wealth, power of Pride,

Which does not hold — an ultimate communion with the sod.

We are ever in the Hand of the Almighty God —

Pray now — I ask you, pray now — and pray for me.

Pray for the world, pray for the sins of Mankind…

Pray for unbeliever —

And pray, too, for yourself…

Pray now! For there is need of prayer

Pray now — for the sins of Man are greater than ever —

Pray now — for sin there is — abounding everywhere —

Pray now for a world plunged in hate and greed —

Pray — for your friends, for your families —

Pray for light, pray for grace — pray for peace…

For there is strength in prayer.

Each moment spent in prayer, be it a minute, hour, or day —

Alike is a tribute to the Eternal King —

One prayer — one word of repentance —

That springs from the heart — from the soul —

Shall weigh down the wrong of the world —

Upon the scale of Justice… shall stand for all Eternity!

The Three Mouseketeers

This is a silly poem Max made just for fun.

We three Mouseketeers are brave and bold,

We brave the heat, we brave the cold,

And when we steal a very nice cheese,

We are careful to say the words, "If you please."

Each of us has a trusty sword,

And we live in a nice and cozy board,

And when the cat finds our lair

We’ll cut of that snooper’s hair.

We’ll find the villain in his lair

We’ll jump on him and muss up his hair

So we’re three mouseketeers brave and bold,

We brave the heat and also the cold.

If Christ lived today

The OB Montessori Poetry Festival starts with preschoolers and grade school students. Then it concludes with the high school oratorical contest. Many of Max’s poems and essays have been used for both sessions. Other pieces by different authors like the one below are included in the repertoire. This is an excerpt from an article from Sunday Life of The Philippine STAR dated April 23, 2000.

Jesus would have enjoyed Boracay and joined surfing competition. He loved the sea and even walked on water. Wouldn’t He just love Boracay, Anilao and all the "surf paradise" beaches in the Philippines? If He gets tired barefoot surfing, He could always calm the wind and waves and still put on a show!

Skeptics will try to prove Him a hoax. In this age of science and reason, miracles raise most eyebrows. Jesus will have to get used to skeptical doctors and scientists nosing around His healing sessions. Plus the presence of privacy invading paparazzi and annoying press! Will He throw them out like the vendors at His Father’s temple?

Media moguls will certainly exploit Him. It will be the same old story. Young man makes good, gets discovered, is promised stardom and then exploited. Mass media moguls, talent managers and agents will hound Christ with the trite line, "I’ll make you a star!" Will our Hero fall for their promise of fame and fortune?

He will be texting the Beatitudes. Instead of giving the famous Sermon on the Mount, Christ would just be texting the Beatitudes. Technology will make His life and ministry easier. Some bright young people would set up http://jesuschrist.com, so that He can take advantage of e-technology.

He might even end up as an image model. He will have to learn how to sing. Music is the language of the soul. In today’s religious ministries, its power is harnessed and put to full use. Jesus will have to learn to sing if He wants His prayer rallies to really rock…

Poeta nascitur, orator fit

As we often use Max’s poems and essays in our elocution contests every year, our poetry specialist and coach, Mercy Soliven David compiled all of them in a book. I asked my husband what made his pen blossom with verses. He simply repeated the Latin saying his poetic father often quoted: Poeta nascitur, orator fit. Poets are born, orators are made.

(For more information please e-mail at exec@obmontes sori.edu.ph)

ERRATUM: In last week’s column, it was mentioned that Engr. Bong Alterado’s ailment lingered for two weeks instead of two years.