The Accidental Poet

Cover photograph is by my Axlepino brother, Branden B. Banko. His poetry is in the visual presentations and mine is in the literary simplification of shared experiences.

I wish I can say I chose poetry to transcribe personal accounts that do not show up as yet in self-help books because it would then be easy to explain the philanthropic work I have done for the love of sublime art I espoused in both FB and in my website.

Poetry instead, chose me while I was busy figuring out the metaphysical implication of metaphors in my life that made me realize the magnitude of words both spoken and written in the arts.  At the rate I was going, I figured it was easier to let these words guide me to uncharted territories where the passage leads to wholeness...where all the hypothetical "Ifs" in my life are laid to rest when wisdom happened with the accident in the poetry I have become.

IF

 If l stay closest to the edge to watch life unfold

Will I marvel at the limitless horizon beyond

The confines of the center I left behind?

Will I spread these clipped wings

And find the instinct to fly

Back to the berthing place

Of nascent light,

Conscious only of being alive?

If the idea of soul mate

That gives rise to the relentless search

For the elusive other

Is deemed reductio ad absurdum

Why do incongruent emotions

Juxtapose with a maelstrom of

Multiple personalities?

If my soul mate is the elusive love of a man

Would that he come

At a time when my restless spirit

Tire of metamorphosing.

When I find a fertile ground in his heart

Where sacrosanct roots can be planted

And nurtured

Until I am able to watch the fruits of my labor

Bear the life it gave.

Would that I see in his eyes the tears

Of limpid crystal

With which my faith can glide on.

Would that I find

I grow in the circle of his arms

To reconcile with my disparate selves

And finally commence with the final stages

Of my eventual homecoming.

What price this reunion with him takes?

How much will it cost my heart

To rise with the ashes of my phoenix

When all the worldly possession

That remains in my embrace