Biography of Edmundo Farolan
Ed lives in Vancouver, Canada. The poems in this collection date back from 1966 to the present day.
Edmundo Farolan's Works:
Lluvias Filipinas (1967) , The Rhythm of Despair (1975) , Tercera Primavera (1981) , Oh Canada! (1994) , Itinerancias/Comings and Goings (2006)
Edmundo Farolan Poems
The mind lives in a different world embodied in solitude. Chance, pick chance. Unwavering influence, abounding friendship, sympathy claims, understanding specks of truth. Love? An abstraction of the mind.
….passing through another memory the drifted memory timed on brinks flung open like doors, old women’s chatters,
Words, words, words, ideas within; transitions transformed by life’s borders, transformations of vulgarity into discretions
Love: Ray Charles, tinkling glass, “Jump? ” To smile again.
Comfortless and unseated songs: the hippies have rambled through society’s images. Lucidity is another reflected synthesis.
Tears – a human factor. Do animals cry? Is it only humans who cry? Death. Human, earthly death. No one escapes death.
White flesh parading. Orange students. The askance of contemplations. Thoughts creating thoughts like cigarette smoke from tobacco fire culminating in diffused air.
Maia, my sweetheart, my darling, When you read this, years from now, You’ll remember your grandpa Who carried you to look out the window
Love Poem Ii
Do you believe in fortunes? Yes. But they’re not true. That’s why I believe in them.
Chiau. It’ll be your fault if you don’t remember. The Dave Brubeck concert? Your laundry, stained socks;
Vermouth was diluted. Look at Cowboy grin. I’m pleasantly bored with my Volkswagen music. The pool was hot.
A hunchbacked future. Khayyam’s “Let’s forget tomorrow for tomorrow may never come.' To care about tomorrow or to care not? Two people: no solitude.
Even songs deceive; months of reflection and continuity; yes, life changes; and maybe, the snow has changed me;
Ode To A Dead Poet
…When the trees asked me why they were in chalked green blackboards, why there were faces drawn in them, why they were philosophical such as “the essence of trees is their being”, or “A tree has both essence and existence.” And trees can also weep because they too have tears inside their leaves, and when they thirst, they suck the earth of its juices from rains that fall and nurture poems, poems as poetic as the green indifference of trees…
And innocent. Yes, innocent and leafless in