Ian Jay Bantilan
Ian Jay Bantilan Poems
A journey of a young architect to discover the town of Catarman 2004
I packed my bag while it was dark
...
A Tribute to Timoteo Guintos
He braves his way into the foliage,
With blade he clears a prickly cogon path
...
A coffee a day will keep awake,
The man whose heavy eyes wont wait.
With opened mind you pay your bill;
without losing money in a careless will.
...
I walk through streets of heavy rain
Stride a tip-toe on the Street Lane
I feel a Gush of mist that blew my cheek
As drops of water start to leak.
...
Dried from Exhaustion
Lost in the Translation
Confused in the Submission
Expectant in completion
...
Little brown princess had a dinner
where she was happy to eat some oysters (talaba)
A little booze, of apple flavored brew
While quietly she savored her food.
...
Life is but a theater; we have our own stage
As each moment start, we turn a new page,
Some will be given their lines for the script
While others will choose their own part to portray
...
She looks at her watch
Its quarter after six
There isn't to do much
Long hours to make you sick
...
She lays there, silent
Though I know she'd usually be loud
She looks intently at the crowd,
Much to her amazement
...
He ran his building down so quickly,
Upon the gleaming steel elevators
His eager heart pounding loudly
Like drumbeats of African lore
...
I woke up from my bed today
I think i saw a pleasant dream,
It was 'bit hazy, I could say,
But for the loveliest girl i've ever seen
...
Jessa Aguila's Bday
She is a Happy little funnu bunch,
With a wink, she's very tender and loves the coffee mug
...
“Behold, children are a gift from the Lord
The fruit of the womb is a reward
Like arrows in the hands of a Warrior
are children born in the prime of one’s youth...”
...
Every leaf is green again
In the court of my backyard.
I can feel the gentle wind;
It’s faintest message from afar.
...
Written for the late Guilerma Flor Lubrico.
She was always Graceous.
She was never loud, always humble
...
Her name is Lourdes
She was born of a Painter,
and the only child of my Grandmother
The Pride of Timoteo (My Grandfather)
...
Ian Jay Bantilan Biography
Arch. Ian Jay G. Bantilan He was born on 2nd of January 1979, in Bacolod in Philippines. His father is an Accountant-Lawyer and his mother is a banker. He studied in University of Saint La Salle for elementary and secondary education. His teachers motivated him to read and appreciate literature. He went to Manila to study architecture in 1996 and there he got exposed to a wider feild of written works. He studied in the University of Santo Tomas. He also does painting and drawing in his free time. He gained his Architectural Proffesional License and wrote the Rites of Passage to commemorate this wonderful Occasion. You may contact him through [email protected] or [email protected])
The Best Poem Of Ian Jay Bantilan
To Catarman Philippines
A journey of a young architect to discover the town of Catarman 2004
I packed my bag while it was dark
And left my home without a sock.
I should have brought just one or two,
And tech pens, watercolors, two.
My dad will drive me to the place
Where I would last, see his face,
'Twill take another month or so,
Before I'm back to say hello.
Today I'm hired to work somewhere
Good pay and all, but hell, who cares?
this place, I thought, I had no friends
It must be lonely to be sent.
The winding roads wer long and dusty
Through mountains, valleys and many seas
Corssed the Bridge of San Juanico,
And north to where the strong winds blow.
Catarman, Catarman
How can I forget you?
Catarman, Catarman
Your quiet nights, filled
with Videoke sounds
And your lovely girls abound.
I'm glad to find the locals friendly
Cheerful folks except a few
It's hard admitting but I'd likely
Really want to stay here too.
I knew this lady from the Grain'ry
She'd work all day, that's what she'd do.
On Sat'rdays she'd play some srings, I say
It's good to have a friend like you.
On weekends we would take a trip,
Along the Airport landing Strip.
When tired we'd rest to feel the breeze
As the noon sun sets on the seas.
Just when I see the Waters Foam,
Suddently I remember home.
I miss my mom and father, bad,
& Babes the sister that I had.
Catarman, Catarman
How can I forget you?
Catarman, Catarman
Your quiet nights, filled
with Videoke sounds
And your lovely girls abound.
O busy town drawn on many Bridges,
Your Beauty rings from all your Beaches.
From Coconut Palms and rattan farms,
And Candid smiles reflect your inner cahr, .
I see they are a people hwo,
Are funny folks in what they do.
They pull some laughs and spread some cheer
And call you to their toast of beer.
When they drink, they start to thinking
How bliss life is, with a voice-a-singing.
While some would dance into the tunes
Of Waray songs, not long too soon.
Some lonely nights I'd wake up to
The lyric chants the locals do.
Voices filled with deadly passion
Recounting stories past with precision
At midnight they would spill their hearts
That words and meaning make their makr
From a people, brave and full of song
A strum with guitars, a bang with gongs.
One time I set for UEP
Samar's grand University
A pleasant sight along the trek.
Only problem is my own way back!
Got passed some stu'ents along the stroll
While I moved along the Halls.
In their faces there was a glow
Bright from studies, the things they know.
Catarman, Catarman
How can I forget you?
Catarman, Catarman
Your quiet nights, filled
with Videoke sounds
And your lovely girls abound.
Ian Jay Bantilan Comments
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12/15/2025 8:45:41 PM # 1.0.0
