Maningning Miclat (April 15, 1972

September 29, 2000)

September 29, 2010 at 2:50pm

a homage....

Maningning Miclat, a published author, multilingual poet, prize-winning artist, an

interpreter and art teacher at Far Eastern University passed away at the tender age of
28.
Born and raised in Beijing, China for the first half of her life, she grew up to become an
accomplished painter in both Chinese and Western genre and a multilingual poet,
fictionist and essayist publishing her works in English, Filipino and Chinese.
Maningning had her first solo exhibit of Chinese traditional paintings at the age of 15 at
the Cultural Center of the Philippines in 1987. "Maningning: An Exhibit of Chinese Brush
Works" would only be the first of five solo exhibitions, and the first of about 32 total
exhibitions for her. That same year, she launched her first book of poetry in Chinese "Wo
De Shi", My Poems.
The sensitive artist / poet won the 1992 Art Association of the Philippines (AAP) Grand
Prize in Non-Representational painting for her abstract, " Trouble in Paradise" while still a
student at the University of the Philippines, College of Fine Arts. She would graduate
with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, Major in Painting, Cum Laude standing, in 1994.
While excelling in the visual arts, she also followed her heart in the literary world. She
became a fellow of the U.P. National Writer's Workshop in 1990 where she won an award
and a Jullie Lluch trophy for her one-act play in Filipino. In 1991, she became a fellow of
the Silliman Writer's Workshop for her poems in English. Her poems in Chinese would
earn for her a niche in the Chinese poetry, counting her as one of the 39 Top-Rated
Women Poets in Chinese anthologized in a book published in Beijing.

Multi-faceted Maningning "sold paintings, wrote for newspapers, designed book covers,
taught Mandarin at the Ateneo University, and even had her second book, Voice from
the Underworld published by Anvil Publishing." She would later teach art at the FEU
while taking up masters in Fine Arts at U.P.
" Maningning as a child growing up in Beijing, was taught the Marxist definition of
literature and the arts as concentrated representations of life and nature on a higher
plane. Precociously maturing in Manila, she started creating her representations of
beauty through painting and poetry. The ashes she left behind are now kept in a quiet
sepulcher surrounded by nature's verdure at the foot of Subic's hills."
Maningning Miclat's poems:
Ang Naliligaw
Naliligaw ako sa paglalakbay,
Naliligaw sa kahahanap,
Naliligaw at hindi malaman
kung paano ba makabalik sa Oxford Street.
Naliligaw sa pamamasyal,
Hindi maintindihan ang mapa,
Hindi malaman kung bakit
Nandirito na naman sa Charing Cross.
Kaya umupo na lang sa Trafalgar Square,
Namulot ng balahibo ng kalapati,
Pero tinapon rin dahil mukhang marumi,
Mukhang maalikabok ang pakpak na nahuli.
Umikot na lang sa paligid,
Pinanood ang gusali,
Pinag-aralan ang kilos ng ibang turista,
Umikot at nag-isip, at naisip kita.
Naisip kita at inisip kita,
At bumalik ako sa National Gallery
Pumunta sa West Wing,
At doon, tumulala ako.
Naliligaw sa kalalakad,
na parang isang feather ng pakpak,
na hindi na makabalik sa ulap,
at hindi na makasama sa paglipad.

Buti na lang naisip ka

sa aking pagkaligaw,
Iniisip na mapapansin mo
ang ulap sa yong paglalakbay.
At ninais na isipin ka
habang nakatulala kay Titian,
kay Bronzino at kay Michaelangelo,
at pinili kong isipin ka.
Pinili kong isipin ka,
sa paglalakbay at sa pagkaligaw.
Sa paghahanap ay nadarama ko:
Mahal, mahal na mahal kita.
---------------------------Berso # 2
Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay mahulog
Parang ang puso ko itong nadudurog.
Kung mag-isa ako huwag nang isipin
Sa dilim ay dapat pa akong hanapin
Habang may luha ay huwag pang ibigin
Sa pangarap ko ay huwag nang gisingin.
Kaya kong maghintay sa mga tula mo
Marinig sa awit ng kabilang dako
At tuklasin sa paglalakad na ito
Hamog at luha ng bulaklak at damo.
Mapapanood ang sayaw ng tutubi
Mapapakinggan ang ibong humuhun
iHihinahon ang pusong di mapakali
At hihimlay na sa mapayapang gabi.
Dumaan ako sa tahimik na ilog,
Ang buong mundo ay parang natutulog
Kung may bunga mang sa tubig ay nahulog

Parang ang puso ko nga itong nadudurog.

_______
Testimony
The territory of shadows is a petal,
An organic wish, a solidified thought,
An awareness of wind catching fishes,
A gratitude for getting rid of clothes.
With the kind gesture of an evening: low tide and safe,
I am sharing the water with the Hundred Islands.
Floating on the galaxies reflection,
I float as night sky carves down an embrace,
an elusive feeling of eternity and floating,
a gesture of wind and a bath of moonlight
from the sea bottom. I am the salt in the evening.
I am the celebration of beginnings.
I, finally getting rid of my clothes.
I, weightless, without knowing what.
Between the sky and me is the wind.
There is an ageless consciousness of being a woman.
There is a shapeless idea of being in the water.
There is a testimony of the sky and the earth.
There is no longer the terrestrial truth,
I am no longer a victim of war.

__________Ginugunita Kita #2
Marikit na tala ang tanglaw sa dilim,
Sa halimuyak ng matamis na hangin,
Sa gubat ng gabi ay hinihintay ko,
Mga kislap ng nilimot na pangako.

Habang may hapdi ang sugat ng kahapon,

Di maalpasan ang diwang nakakahon,
Inaawit ang kundiman ng pagsinta

Sa dalamhati ng pusong umaasa.

Ginuguni-gunita kita,
Binubuo sa alaala.
Pinapanga-pangarap ka,
Inuukit sa haraya.
____
Panibugho
Naunawaan ang hiwaga
sa titig mong umiiwas
kaninang umaga.
Nabasa ang talinghagang
tinago ng sansinukob.
Luminaw ang dahilan
sa nagmamadali mong pamamaalam.
Parang hindi na sasapit ang umaga
sa paninibugho sa dilim.
Buti na lang
hindi naririnig,
ang isip at kalooban
nitong himpapawid.
Hindi rin nakikiramdam
ang butiki sa dinding
sa mga dasal ng aking ligalig.
_______
RAINY DAYS OF A GREEN TERRACE

Rainy days of a green terrace,

Pine cones, a blanket of a thousand folds,
Rocking chair swaying in an absence of time,
Lost in the sunrise that never sets,
Is there music to my notes?
Strange dogs bark at strange corners,
Raindrops howl down branches of leaves,

CD hums like an electric fan,

Muddy is the road that reaches out.
There is no signal for my phone.
Day continues with small discoveries.
Drowning like an ice statue
is just another possibility.
Rainy days of green terrace,
a rational equation of my misfortune.

_________________________

Why A Mural ?
I want space - a two dimensional space.
To form form and forms
that change , while my arms
ways, my hand holds the brushto play
with the glacial acrylic paints.

Forms that bring back

the balance and rhythm
of xieyi painting
where yin is left in the whiteness
of rice paper, and yang is limned
by the shades of gray and black ink.
A space for the music of painting
where white is not blank but tone
and black is the silent interval
cantata tat springs forth from the air
vanishes backand remains as brushstrokes.
To absorb a process of change
in the gesture of a fearless arm
emotion that moves and grows:
forms being formed to forget
the finiteness of beginnings.

Beside this poem

is a prayer
frozen in the acrylic paints.
Beside this poem
is a mural
- a desire for space.
-------Laughter
He left me
when he could
no longer stand the laughter
that I gave him
while he begged me not
to keep memories
alive in poems
to hurt myself
and make those
who read
sad. I laughed
when he shared
his life with me
while holding him
to make it easier
and maybe
less painful
to live on.
Laugh! I told
him, but
could not get
his attention.
Laugh! I asked
him, but
he left in

anger.
And left
before he understood
the courage
that held my laughter.
______
Father and I
The leaves are shaking,
"Look. It's the wind!"
You said, " No, those are leaves.
Wind cannot be seen."
Snowflakes whirl down
- An emblem of purity.
You said, " No, it is deception.
It is here to cloak the filth."
A lovely object
Took my fancy.
You said, "It's Useless."
I haven't walked too far,
But I am feeling tired.
Let me rest by the path for a while.
When the wind blows, I feel it.
When snow swirls down, I see it.
The lovely object I hold in my hand.---------Knowledge
by Maningning Miclat
You know I know what you already know,
There is never a reason for conflicts,
Sadness is an adornment in your face.
For a long time I have tried to erase.
I know you know what I already know,
If we will never meet again,
I will tell the story of what I learned

to the flowers that are withering away.

I know you know I actually don't know,
Songs that drift from a faraway garden,
Music that I sense but cannot acknowledge,
Feeling the alienation of a togetherness:
I wish I've known what you always know.
_____

compiled by emil yap

2008 nov 07
http://emilyap08.multiply.com/journal/item/45/homage_to_Maningning_Miclat
http://emilyap.blog.friendster.com/tag/maningning-miclat/
http://emil08.livejournal.com/11866.html
http://www.myspace.com/518622200/blog/545561511
-------------------------

Anu ang buhai

(maningning miclat - april 15, 1972-september 29, 2000)
ni emil yap
Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only
that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life. - pablo neruda
Qu es la vida? Un frenes.
Qu es la vida? Una ilusin,
una sombra, una ficcin,
y el mayor bien es pequeo.
Que toda la vida es sueo,
y los sueos, sueos son! - Pedro Calderon de la barca (1600-1681)
Translation:
What is life? A frenzy.
What is life? An illusion,

A shadow, a fiction,
And the greatest good is small;
For all of life is a dream,
And dreams, are only dreams.
Translation;
Anu ba ang buhai, isang kahibangan
anu ba ang buhai, isang ilusyon
isang anino, isang kasinungalingan
at ang malaking biyaya ay maliit pa rin
dahil ang buhai ay isa lamang na pangarap
at ang mga pangarap ay pangarap lamang

anu ang buhai

isang tulai
isang banghai
isang tangkai
aanud anud
sa lansangan
sa mga daanan
parang mga samad
ng kahiwagahan
tulad ng sangandaan
parang madamdaming katha
isang ilusyon
pilit iwinawaksi
tulad mo
akoi iyong nililimot
di pinapansin
anu ang buhai
isang ilusyon
isang pangarap
isang taludtod
sa dulo ng dahon
parang hamog
naghihintay
kunin ng hanginsa dapithapon
anu ang buhai
pikit mata

kisap mata
dinadama sa tuwina
pilit yakap
parang unan
sa magdamag
anu ang buhai
isang ispasyo
ng mga saknong
itinutugma
tumatalima
sa mga agus
sa mga parisukat
sa mga hugis
at kayarian
sa daigdig
ng pagbabakasakali
anu an buhai
ilusyon lamang
sinusukat pilit
pinagkakasiya
sa kahong maliit
sa bulag na pagdakila
sa panahon ng banggaan
bangungot na iniikid
sa mga imburnal
ng kagaspangan
anu ang buhai
ito ay tula
isang simula
sa wakas
ugnai sa pangarap
masarap na nilalasap
habang pinapangarap
mulat na panaginip
anu ang buhai
kalungkutan sa kabilugan ng buwan
pag iyak sa init ng pagdurusa
isang linya ng mga salita
na walang kahulugan sa dayuhang nakamasid
anu ang buhai
isang ngiti
na magaan
busilak sa hangin

isang kirot
sa pusong
umiibig
imus, cavite
.8282013

_____________
Anu ang buhai
ni emil yap
Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only
that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life. - pablo neruda

Qu es la vida? Un frenes.
Qu es la vida? Una ilusin,
una sombra, una ficcin,
y el mayor bien es pequeo.
Que toda la vida es sueo,
y los sueos, sueos son! - Pedro Calderon de la barca (1600-1681)
Translation:

What is life? A frenzy.

What is life? An illusion,
A shadow, a fiction,
And the greatest good is small;
For all of life is a dream,
And dreams, are only dreams.
Translation;
Anu ba ang buhai, isang kahibangan
anu ba ang buhai, isang ilusyon
isang anino, isang kasinungalingan
at ang malaking biyaya ay maliit pa rin
dahil ang buhai ay isa lamang na pangarap
at ang mga pangarap ay pangarap lamang

anu ang buhai

isang tulai
isang banghai
isang tangkai
aanud anud
sa lansangan
sa mga daanan
parang mga samad
ng kahiwagahan
tulad ng sangandaan
parang madamdaming katha
isang ilusyon
pilit iwinawaksi
tulad mo
akoi iyong nililimot
di pinapansin
anu ang buhai
isang ilusyon
isang pangarap
isang taludtod
sa dulo ng dahon
parang hamog
naghihintay
kunin ng hanginsa dapithapon
anu ang buhai
pikit mata

kisap mata
dinadama sa tuwina
pilit yakap
parang unan
sa magdamag
anu ang buhai
isang ispasyo
ng mga saknong
itinutugma
tumatalima
sa mga agus
sa mga parisukat
sa mga hugis
at kayarian
sa daigdig
ng pagbabakasakali
anu an buhai
ilusyon lamang
sinusukat pilit
pinagkakasiya
sa kahong maliit
sa bulag na pagdakila
sa panahon ng banggaan
bangungot na iniikid
sa mga imburnal
ng kagaspangan
anu ang buhai
ito ay tula
isang simula
sa wakas
ugnai sa pangarap
masarap na nilalasap
habang pinapangarap
mulat na panaginip
anu ang buhai
kalungkutan sa kabilugan ng buwan
pag iyak sa init ng pagdurusa
isang linya ng mga salita
na walang kahulugan sa dayuhang nakamasid
anu ang buhai
isang ngiti
na magaan
busilak sa hangin

isang kirot
sa pusong
umiibig
.
The proposed curriculum for Senior High School (SHS) contains two literature subjects 21st Century
Literatures of the World and 21st Century Literatures from the (Philippine) Regions. (It has been
suggested that the latter be changed to Contemporary Philippine Literature and the Arts from the
Regions.)
These are derived from the two literature subjects in the old General Education Curriculum (GEC),
namely, Literatures of the World and Literatures of the Philippines. In the new GEC, these two
literature subjects are no longer included, because the new core subjects are all interdisciplinary rather
then disciplinal.
The two subjects in SHS are disciplinal. They are meant to ensure that all Filipino high school graduates
have a good understanding of what is happening today in the field of literature, and by extension, in the
arts.
Why 21st century only? Simply because SHS students were all born in or just before the 21st century.
This century is their century. For them, the 20th century is what the 19th century is to us teachers.
There is also another reason. Just as the British writer Virginia Woolf said of the turn of the 20th century,
namely, that on or about December 1910 human character changed, something major happened to
literature on or about December 2000.
C21: Centre for Research in Twenty-first Century Writings, based in the University of Brighton, puts it
succinctly: The first decade of the new millennium witnessed a range of exciting developments in
contemporary writings in English, from innovations in recognised forms such as the novel, poem, play and
short story to developments in digital writings, creative writings and genres. Alongside these
developments, the publishing industry also changed, with technological advances giving rise to the dawn
of the eBook and corporate sponsorship igniting debates about the usefulness of literary prizes and
festivals.
Just think of the most recent literary texts done in the Philippines. We have textula, a poetry genre
mastered by Frank Rivera: entire poems are written and read on mobile phones. Graphic novels are
becoming as respectable as prose novels among literary critics. Poems meant to be recited in front of
large audiences have become more fashionable than poems meant to be read silently by a single reader
(fulfilling one of Cirilo Bautistas prophecies about the future of poetry, by the way).
Elsewhere in the world, writers are doing things they did not do much until recently. Think of prose novels
being serialized on blogs, with readers suggesting to authors (and authors obediently accepting) that the
plot or the characters should be changed. Think of hypertextual poems, where readers move from one
website to another because of embedded links in the words, sometimes not returning to the original

pages at all. Think of enhanced eBooks, where readers are treated to audiovisual clips that not only
support the narrative in a novel, but actually are crucial to the development of plot and character. Think of
flash fiction, which has been brought to an extreme with six-word and even one-word short stories.
Of course, none of these forms of literature were born only in the 21st century. Hypertext, for example,
has been around for at least two decades.
Six-word short stories have been around for a long time. The best-known is Ernest Hemingways six-word
story: For sale: baby shoes, never worn. Urban legend (which may actually be true) says Hemingway
called it his best work.
Pre-21st century writers like Margaret Atwood have written such stories. Atwood, for example, wrote this:
Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
Neil Gaiman (perhaps the best example of a 20th century writer who has successfully transformed himself
into a 21st century writer) wrote this: Im dead. Ive missed you. Kiss ?
There is a growing body of literary criticism on 21st century literature. There is, for example, an entire
journal devoted to it, C21 Literature: Journal of 21st Century Writing.
There have been several professional conferences on the topic, such as E-reading between the lines:
21st century literature, digital platforms and literacies last July in Brighton. The paper titles reveal some
of the main trends in the emergent field: Digital Theory on Literature Reading Lists, The Digitisation of
Reader Response, Star Texts: The Next Generation, The Book App, Digital Literatures: Digital
Democracies [or] Digital Threats? The conference raised a practical question: Should readers be given
the choice of both printed and electronic formats or is the (printed) book set to become the vinyl of the
twenty-first century?
In our country, graphic novels such as Ferdinand Benedict G. Tan and Jonathan A. Baldisimos Trese 5:
Midnight Tribunal and Carlo Vergaras Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila 1 are challenging the
traditional definition of fiction. Even more in-your-face is Alan Navarras Ang Panlimang Alas ay
Nakabaon sa Iyong Dibdib, a literary text that defies classification into any of the traditional categories of
poetry, fiction, and drama. (Even if we added the genre-come-lately Creative Nonfiction, Navarras work
still does not quite fit in.)
Since curricular reform happens only every decade, the SHS curriculum will still be in place by the year
2022. By that year, the 20th century will no longer be in the memory of our students. We pre-digital
teachers of the two literature subjects must ensure that their frame of reference will be theirs and not
ours.