So I wrote this poem back in 1997 when I was in school the third year for our school newspaper. I was very inspired by John Keats Ode on a Grecian Urn, in which I have emulated the style of this poem. I used the old Anglo-American words to give a classic touch, as well as to remind us of Vikings and Angleland Deutschland, a time when the sound of the lute is a national anthem. I also used some characters from Greek mythology for the purpose of presenting a lot of metaphors and personifications. I must admit, it is very difficult to understand in order to suggest that it is necessary to have a dictionary beside you as you read this.
The poem basically discussed the good effects of the El Niño phenomenon in the Philippines in 1997. It will not be called an ode, if you do not address the positive and good things! Through this poem, I gave another to the negative effects of this phenomenon. There is more than the sweat is removed, we have the experience of thirst and the heat we are suffering.
This poem was never published on our school newspaper because of its familiar wording and its meaning incomprehensible. Apparently, it was not suitable for high school students to read. Luckily, it was noted in North America. The poem was selected as a semi-finalist in the North American Open Poetry Contest, which took place in the final race last winter of 1998. It has also been published in the National Library of Poetry volume hardback edition of the classic quality, Dawn of Silence, in January 1999. The poem did not say was only presented in the press, but also in word. It was recorded in a cassette, The Sound of Poetry, in which beautiful baroque music and a brief commentary on the poem served as a prelude to the skill selected. Originally, this poem was composed of 40 lines, but because of contest rules and regulations, I had cut up to 20 lines. So far, this is the most high-end poetry I've ever written.
Ode to El Niño
by Maranan Siyangbigay Jocell
That number could e'er you a canon beck
Gypsies, atheists failed dragging their tarot
Of an accident, a centaur, a man and a beast
Hail! Your little baby is born.
Anglophobic he was!
Aye! Aye! Aye!
Together wi 'Hephaestus, Nereo killed, vilified Ganga
Poseidon no longer your choice, but to taste could trident
Lo! Naiadi although tramp limping after a sloth
In more than three buttons, blew horns against your mother.
Eastern Doth drank potion made yours?
Thinking opened e'ry knocking on the door,
It picked hides swirls around the courtyard,
Three times a day, a month or two
Prosaic, consciousness is still holding!
As noble as a king, as bold as a knight
A word in the mouth zone bestrewed
Gin does not touch the morning calm,
It would be the blood is water? It would flower thistles?
Tigers would be sick all right? It would be empty heads to fill?
