<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:31:41.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jonah's Literary Attempts</title><subtitle type='html'>...share with my thoughts and reflections, feel my emotions , relive with my experiences...an attempt on literature...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-7148238991787433132</id><published>2011-06-18T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T12:13:21.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TATAY ( Happy Father's Day )</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy_yqAmQ1OQ/Tfz3r4o24eI/AAAAAAAAAN4/rwK19uQaqXE/s1600/wid+tatay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" i$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy_yqAmQ1OQ/Tfz3r4o24eI/AAAAAAAAAN4/rwK19uQaqXE/s320/wid+tatay.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Larawan ka ng isang matibay&lt;br /&gt;at malakas na haligi ng tahanan.&lt;br /&gt;Pilit na itinaguyod ang pamilya&lt;br /&gt;sa kabila ng matinding kahirapan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Batid ko ang dinanas na hirap&lt;br /&gt;at lahat ng ‘yong pagsisikap.&lt;br /&gt;Dugo,pawis,kasama ng pananalig&lt;br /&gt;Itinanim sa hardin ng pangarap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa paglipas ng mga panahon,&lt;br /&gt;May mga tanim na nasalanta.&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit ‘di man lahat ay tumubo&lt;br /&gt;Mayroon ding sumibol at namunga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dumudungaw ang dapit-hapon,&lt;br /&gt;Ang gabi’y marahang kumakatok&lt;br /&gt;Ang minsa’y haliging tanggulan&lt;br /&gt;Unti-unting nagiging marupok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahan-dahan na ring naglaho&lt;br /&gt;ang iyong taglay na lakas,&lt;br /&gt;Na sa mga nakalipas na bagyo&lt;br /&gt;naging isang sandalang matatag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatay,hindi ko na rin maalala&lt;br /&gt;Kung kailan kita huling nayakap&lt;br /&gt;o nasabi sa’yo na mahal kita – &lt;br /&gt;sana’y magawa ko bago mahuli ang lahat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; -jonah orteza@ 3am-6/19/11&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-7148238991787433132?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/7148238991787433132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2011/06/tatay-happy-fathers-day.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/7148238991787433132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/7148238991787433132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2011/06/tatay-happy-fathers-day.html' title='TATAY ( Happy Father&apos;s Day )'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sy_yqAmQ1OQ/Tfz3r4o24eI/AAAAAAAAAN4/rwK19uQaqXE/s72-c/wid+tatay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-5046136495042703956</id><published>2011-01-23T12:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T02:14:48.616-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Father's Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RecMYhJmWkM/Tf8PaaOEpAI/AAAAAAAAAN8/RguU9iICs6k/s1600/100_1432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RecMYhJmWkM/Tf8PaaOEpAI/AAAAAAAAAN8/RguU9iICs6k/s320/100_1432.JPG" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( for my beloved son, Zion Judah....written @ 4am, 24January2011&amp;nbsp;)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the lights are dim,&lt;br /&gt;When the room is dark;&lt;br /&gt;And when it's cold outside&lt;br /&gt;I will keep you warm&lt;br /&gt;here in my loving arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When&amp;nbsp;you feel you're alone&lt;br /&gt;and see shadows all around;&lt;br /&gt;When the rain won't stop&lt;br /&gt;Just listen to my heartbeat,&lt;br /&gt;Everything's gonna be alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can hear you cry even&lt;br /&gt;through the lonely&amp;nbsp;night&lt;br /&gt;I can write a song&lt;br /&gt;for you my little child.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, how I dance with joy&lt;br /&gt;as I watch you sleep tonight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I wake each day&lt;br /&gt;to see you grow and play&lt;br /&gt;and become a man you will be,&lt;br /&gt;nothing will ever change.&lt;br /&gt;You are what you are to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;lose my strength,&lt;br /&gt;my sense of hearing or my sight,&lt;br /&gt;Son,even in my twilight time&lt;br /&gt;I will be loving you until&lt;br /&gt;when we are&amp;nbsp;a breath apart!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-5046136495042703956?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/5046136495042703956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2011/01/fathers-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/5046136495042703956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/5046136495042703956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2011/01/fathers-love.html' title='A Father&apos;s Love'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RecMYhJmWkM/Tf8PaaOEpAI/AAAAAAAAAN8/RguU9iICs6k/s72-c/100_1432.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-6403752009790693910</id><published>2010-03-05T11:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-15T03:10:05.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ECCLESIASTES</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQdrEcZNI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZwAgkg-nbRk/s1600-h/Ecclesiastes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445010788942898386" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQdrEcZNI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZwAgkg-nbRk/s320/Ecclesiastes.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 174px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( 05 March 2010 , 9a.m. - a look into reality...life is like a chess opponent who makes such an unxpected move,that no matter how you want to, you can never think the reply in advance...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pondering into life&lt;br /&gt;I realized that each day is a gift.&lt;br /&gt;We are faced with uncertainty&lt;br /&gt;In the blink of an eye&lt;br /&gt;the breath that we have&lt;br /&gt;will simply pass us by&lt;br /&gt;anytime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How time flies so fast.&lt;br /&gt;I’m&amp;nbsp;seemingly unaware that&lt;br /&gt;we are&amp;nbsp;almost halfway&lt;br /&gt;at the end of the road!&lt;br /&gt;Just like the grass&lt;br /&gt;that grows in summer and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;withers in due time&lt;br /&gt;unnoticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we see them&lt;br /&gt;Now we we don’t…&lt;br /&gt;I used to laugh with ‘em,&lt;br /&gt;play with them, talk with them –&lt;br /&gt;Dennis, Ronald, Ramil, Jojo&lt;br /&gt;and to the people I’ve known&lt;br /&gt;of whom I had outlived –&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“In memoriam”.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world will pass.&lt;br /&gt;and for all its cares&lt;br /&gt;everything is meaningless&lt;br /&gt;under the same old sun.&lt;br /&gt;I am simply living&lt;br /&gt;in the vast ocean of His grace&lt;br /&gt;drowning myself on it&lt;br /&gt;day by day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-6403752009790693910?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/6403752009790693910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/ecclesiastes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/6403752009790693910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/6403752009790693910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/ecclesiastes.html' title='ECCLESIASTES'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQdrEcZNI/AAAAAAAAALg/ZwAgkg-nbRk/s72-c/Ecclesiastes.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-2503600511214573106</id><published>2010-03-05T11:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-23T13:06:18.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Broken</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5hHNd4k2HI/AAAAAAAAALo/bq4Wwjpq_AU/s1600-h/rejection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5hHNd4k2HI/AAAAAAAAALo/bq4Wwjpq_AU/s320/rejection.jpg" vt="true" width="298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;( a very funny story that happened almost a decade ago...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought of bright summer days&lt;br /&gt;just as I thought of you.&lt;br /&gt;Like the scent of the morning dew&lt;br /&gt;when the ricefield is ready&lt;br /&gt;and harvest is due…&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed of having you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With hope of a great love&lt;br /&gt;yet with reckless abandon,&lt;br /&gt;I stretched out my dirty hand&lt;br /&gt;to give you some flowers.&lt;br /&gt;Alas,when reality unfolded&lt;br /&gt;my illusions faded in an abyss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you’re a goddess,&lt;br /&gt;I’m just a mere mortal,&lt;br /&gt;yearning for love so distant,&lt;br /&gt;like a child wishing upon a star.&lt;br /&gt;I am standing on the ground&lt;br /&gt;while you sit on a pedestal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m the frog…the ugly duckling,&lt;br /&gt;will you love me somehow&lt;br /&gt;if I turn into a charming prince?&lt;br /&gt;Like the toys that I longed&lt;br /&gt;during my childhood years…&lt;br /&gt;I never had any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could fate and love&lt;br /&gt;so mutually conspire?&lt;br /&gt;Ending on such an early hour&lt;br /&gt;the love that I once tried.&lt;br /&gt;For now,my heart shall mourn&lt;br /&gt;‘til then ,when it's finally home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-2503600511214573106?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/2503600511214573106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/funny-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2503600511214573106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2503600511214573106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/funny-story.html' title='Broken'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5hHNd4k2HI/AAAAAAAAALo/bq4Wwjpq_AU/s72-c/rejection.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-8828607852199355213</id><published>2010-03-05T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T21:01:36.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Girl, the Lady and the Woman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQGlz0ovI/AAAAAAAAALY/I4vMlzIlod8/s1600-h/morning+bird.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445010392394015474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQGlz0ovI/AAAAAAAAALY/I4vMlzIlod8/s200/morning+bird.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Looking back...written 10 years ago - 27 July 2000 )&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girl –&lt;br /&gt;scent of youthfulness…&lt;br /&gt;lovable innocence…&lt;br /&gt;sweet morning bird…&lt;br /&gt;music masterpiece…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady –&lt;br /&gt;beauty of knowledge…&lt;br /&gt;captivating smile…&lt;br /&gt;gracefully-swaying leaf…&lt;br /&gt;poetry in motion…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman –&lt;br /&gt;charm of maturity…&lt;br /&gt;beautiful face…&lt;br /&gt;carefully-carved sculpture…&lt;br /&gt;living work of art…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-8828607852199355213?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/8828607852199355213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/girl-lady-and-woman.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/8828607852199355213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/8828607852199355213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/girl-lady-and-woman.html' title='The Girl, the Lady and the Woman'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CQGlz0ovI/AAAAAAAAALY/I4vMlzIlod8/s72-c/morning+bird.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-391118427722573056</id><published>2010-03-05T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-05T08:57:32.707-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am a Filipino</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CNv5KhIhI/AAAAAAAAALI/I590VTujnho/s1600-h/Pilipinas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445007803429233170" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 135px; height: 94px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CNv5KhIhI/AAAAAAAAALI/I590VTujnho/s200/Pilipinas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;( written on 13 April 2009 )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“ Iniibig ko ang Pilipinas…ito ang aking lupang sinilangan..ito ang tahanan ng aking lahi…”&lt;/em&gt;when others take pride on the mere prestige of living the foreign dream, I find no glory in it. Let me borrow King Arthur’s patriotic line in the movie,”The home that we seek resides not on distant lands…” This is my home and God gave this land to me. Here will I toil the land and join with the brave few who believe that there is still future and hope for this nation who was once pearl of the Orient with its majestic mountains and shining seas, even if now slowly dwindling into obscurity.&lt;br /&gt;I am a Filipino…ridiculed as a nation of servants, kidnappers and corrupt politicians. But nothing hurts me more than when our women are accused as more cheaper than china dolls. Not too long ago, my foreign employer insulted me by calling me stupid and saying that our girls are more than willing to exchange their dignity for greener pastures. And just like the noble heroes before me whose very same blood runs through my veins, never will I allow their money to make me stoop-down low enough to trample the honor of my people...I gave up my job. I will not back down even with my feet on foreign soil.&lt;br /&gt;I am a Filipino…born from a very humble beginning, treaded the paths of hardships and extreme difficulties to chase my dream of a better future.And just like my brothers who had to scratch in the monstrous heap of garbage as a living to bring food to the table, just like my sisters who bid good-byes to their children only to take care of a child not of their own in order to secure the lives of their loved ones, with an unwavering hope, we will endure…our dreams shall never die!&lt;br /&gt;I am a Filipino…the Manny Pacquiao – an epitome of a warrior and true Filipino spirit, coming from a hungry childhood years but rising to the occasion and showing to the rest of the world that one man’s victory is the victory of the entire nation so divided like the seven thousand islands that made up its archipelago because of useless political bickering, yet somehow united even for just a mere twelve rounds. For every jab, every punch and every pain received in this seemingly endless brutal rounds of life, at the end of the day I will be on top. Fierce in battle but always seen in one corner before each fight…on bended knees.&lt;br /&gt;I am a Filipino! From the lowly but dignified workers and laborers to the brilliant professionals, from the champion athletes to the most gifted musicians and artists who made me proud as a Filipino, I salute you! And to my fellow Filipinos who share this same fervor in my heart , keep the flame burning! Let us always be reminded with this same vow that we used to have during our early years, but this time with more conviction and meaning : &lt;em&gt;“…paglilingkuran ko ang aking bayan ng walang pag-iimbot at ng buong katapatan. Sisikapin kong maging isang tunay na Pilipino sa isip, sa salita at sa gawa !”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-391118427722573056?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/391118427722573056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-filipino.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/391118427722573056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/391118427722573056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-filipino.html' title='I Am a Filipino'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/S5CNv5KhIhI/AAAAAAAAALI/I590VTujnho/s72-c/Pilipinas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-7496978941048823357</id><published>2009-03-21T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T09:15:15.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TO REA ( She Asked Me Of Verses )</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS3_--iQhI/AAAAAAAAADA/x_9g2mNi9PM/s1600-h/minesview+wt+yeya.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315575770068959762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS3_--iQhI/AAAAAAAAADA/x_9g2mNi9PM/s200/minesview+wt+yeya.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;( Written for the girl who stood by me and shared with me, not just with my dreams,in my ambitions, happiness and faith but all the more in my struggles, failures, loneliness, weaknesses and shortcomings...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came to me&lt;br /&gt;at that time when my world&lt;br /&gt;was so empty and dark,&lt;br /&gt;tired of chasing the wrong love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love unexpected&lt;br /&gt;like a falling star that swept&lt;br /&gt;through my lonely night –&lt;br /&gt;the moment I saw your smile!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was it magic,&lt;br /&gt;or was it fireworks displayed?&lt;br /&gt;When I looked into your eyes&lt;br /&gt;I saw love that can’t be denied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days had passed –&lt;br /&gt;No, already years has gone by&lt;br /&gt;somehow, the love that we had&lt;br /&gt;withstood the tests of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ve been tried&lt;br /&gt;once, by a lonesome distance&lt;br /&gt;and even with our many quarrels,&lt;br /&gt;but thank God, our love remains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, now&lt;br /&gt;and even for the rest of tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;‘though seasons may come and go&lt;br /&gt;find me always here for you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-7496978941048823357?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/7496978941048823357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-rea-she-asked-me-of-verses.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/7496978941048823357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/7496978941048823357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-rea-she-asked-me-of-verses.html' title='TO REA ( She Asked Me Of Verses )'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS3_--iQhI/AAAAAAAAADA/x_9g2mNi9PM/s72-c/minesview+wt+yeya.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-5025810620415483601</id><published>2009-03-20T05:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T02:56:59.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS54hHjbeI/AAAAAAAAADI/fLJAPKeJObw/s1600-h/sunset_cross.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315577840817892834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS54hHjbeI/AAAAAAAAADI/fLJAPKeJObw/s200/sunset_cross.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" align="justify"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;‘Though the night is restless&lt;br /&gt;And the day so unsure&lt;br /&gt;But knowing that I have You,&lt;br /&gt;With a love that’s so strong&lt;br /&gt;There is no letting go –&lt;br /&gt;I will take hold of You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;‘Though my world is pressed&lt;br /&gt;And my faith is shaken&lt;br /&gt;yet still I believe in You.&lt;br /&gt;You made the day stood still&lt;br /&gt;And calm the raging seas –&lt;br /&gt;I put all my hope in You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will walk on water,&lt;br /&gt;I will soar high as the eagle&lt;br /&gt;I can do all things through You&lt;br /&gt;who strengthens me;&lt;br /&gt;There is nothing I cannot do&lt;br /&gt;When I’m here with You!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:14;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-5025810620415483601?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/5025810620415483601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/5025810620415483601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/5025810620415483601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/you.html' title='YOU'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScS54hHjbeI/AAAAAAAAADI/fLJAPKeJObw/s72-c/sunset_cross.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-2403072522696209724</id><published>2009-03-19T20:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T09:58:34.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Winning Moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3-iseH93Ve0/TfOeps2UCgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/PtI0hlAaMV0/s1600/boxing+medal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3-iseH93Ve0/TfOeps2UCgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/PtI0hlAaMV0/s1600/boxing+medal.jpg" t8="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The strength may fail&lt;br /&gt;and the body grows weak&lt;br /&gt;if you have a dream&lt;br /&gt;never lose sight of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the pain lingers&lt;br /&gt;and doubt begins to creep,&lt;br /&gt;in the midst of adversity&lt;br /&gt;courage is what it takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The will to win&lt;br /&gt;is winning in itself,yet&lt;br /&gt;perseverance is a must&lt;br /&gt;in breaking the limits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may hear voices&lt;br /&gt;and see shadows all ‘round&lt;br /&gt;Just keep your focus&lt;br /&gt;fix your eyes to the Light!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seize every opportunity&lt;br /&gt;and know no retreat&lt;br /&gt;‘til your hand is raised&lt;br /&gt;to define your winning moment!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Inspired by my TKO victory at the UKC-6 (amateur boxing tournament)on November 8,2008 at Elorde Sports Center, Paranaque…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-2403072522696209724?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/2403072522696209724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/winning-moment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2403072522696209724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2403072522696209724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2009/03/winning-moment.html' title='Winning Moment'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3-iseH93Ve0/TfOeps2UCgI/AAAAAAAAAN0/PtI0hlAaMV0/s72-c/boxing+medal.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-1579241423137284779</id><published>2008-01-26T01:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T10:08:26.699-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Boy's Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTAHe8tyNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/KnRyxjiY670/s1600-h/BOY+PRAYING.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315584695003367634" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTAHe8tyNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/KnRyxjiY670/s200/BOY+PRAYING.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 137px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dear God,&lt;br /&gt;Just this morning&lt;br /&gt;we had a parade.&lt;br /&gt;As we marched on the street&lt;br /&gt;I felt like crying.&lt;br /&gt;I saw my classmates&lt;br /&gt;in their colorful vests,&lt;br /&gt;beating their drums&lt;br /&gt;and the girls&lt;br /&gt;were all very pretty,&lt;br /&gt;as I walk alone&lt;br /&gt;with only my school uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;during our class recess&lt;br /&gt;'twas another story.&lt;br /&gt;While they have bread and candies&lt;br /&gt;I do not have any.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want them&lt;br /&gt;to see me that way;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want them to pity me,&lt;br /&gt;So I just ran&lt;br /&gt;to the school library&lt;br /&gt;and devour the books&lt;br /&gt;on knights and fairytales!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear God&lt;br /&gt;my parents&amp;nbsp;are poor&lt;br /&gt;and I understand,&lt;br /&gt;But promise me You'll grant me this.&lt;br /&gt;and please don't think&lt;br /&gt;that I demand too much.&lt;br /&gt;Give me knowledge&lt;br /&gt;and give me wisdom.&lt;br /&gt;I know you that you answer&lt;br /&gt;even a child's prayer.&lt;br /&gt;Never will I cry again&lt;br /&gt;lacking&amp;nbsp;in better things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight&lt;br /&gt;I will be contented&lt;br /&gt;on what we have.&lt;br /&gt;A handful of rice...and soy sauce&lt;br /&gt;for our dinner.&lt;br /&gt;But as I lay down&lt;br /&gt;my weary body to rest&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep on thinking&lt;br /&gt;all those good things.&lt;br /&gt;And in the course&lt;br /&gt;of time I'll awake&lt;br /&gt;with my dreams being fulfilled!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-1579241423137284779?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/1579241423137284779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/little-boys-prayer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/1579241423137284779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/1579241423137284779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/little-boys-prayer.html' title='The Little Boy&apos;s Prayer'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTAHe8tyNI/AAAAAAAAAEA/KnRyxjiY670/s72-c/BOY+PRAYING.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-4248162689194519088</id><published>2008-01-18T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T00:13:45.584-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This is my Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScZB1kpuqEI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9dUcJ-QrOrw/s1600-h/Boy+and+truck.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316008798785022018" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScZB1kpuqEI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9dUcJ-QrOrw/s200/Boy+and+truck.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 155px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTBNxtx2rI/AAAAAAAAAEI/5x_AZ-TwMHg/s1600-h/abstract-life-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was sitting beside my mother one Sunday evening at the ‘Faith Tabernacle’ church service in Cagayan de oro City.I was four years old then.I can fully recall that particular moment as it is still vivid in my memory.I was staring blankly at the ceiling,my eyes fixed at the bright illumination coming from the fluorescent lights…”Oh,I don’t want to die…I’m scared to die…I don’t want to die…”was the thoughts that’s been occupying my mind for quite a few minutes or so.I was already unaware of what’s going on around me.”How does it feel like to be dead?Can I still see my mom?Can I still see these bright lights?...I’m really scared…God,are you real?” I was already asking serious questions unusual for someone of my age.&lt;br /&gt;The church organ was already playing to the tune of a gospel hymn as Pastor Tito,the church minister,asked for an altar call. Earlier that day,my father and I attended a funeral of a churchmate who had been killed,as I was told.He was a former soldier who worked as a Security guard at the time he was shot while on duty.&lt;br /&gt;I asked again,”God,mom said you are real…are you?I don’t want to die.”With that sense of helplessness,I said.”Lord,please…I want to live forever!”At that very moment,He answered to me….&lt;br /&gt;One day,my elder sister and I went to a nearby store to buy some ice bars.It was lunchtime and the day was very hot.She was probably on her first grade already at that time.I was probably five.As we were crossing the street going back already,suddenly,I fell into some kind of a trance.My only recollection of that particular instance was that I found myself leaning on a wheel of a big truck.I didn’t saw my sister…I saw nobody else.Everything around me was in bright white color,like that of a thousand fluorescent lights all over me.The next thing I remember,I was already running with my sister going back to the house.I have no idea what happened but obviously my sister knew something.I could see in her face that she was in a state of shock.&lt;br /&gt;After having our lunch,neither I nor my sister told our parents what had happened.Both of us were still shocked and we even tried to hide under the bed because of fear.I was still trying to figure it out when we heared voices.People were already gathered downstairs. “What’s going on,anything wrong?”My father asked,looking puzzled. “Your son was hit by a Pepsi Cola truck!”Someone shouted.”Yes,we actually saw him being dragged by the truck!We tried to look for his body but can’t find him!”,”Maybe he was thrown off somewhere!” Soon everybody - children and parents alike - began to tell what had happened.I was actually listening to them too,as they were reporting to us,but surprisingly,nobody recognized me.&lt;br /&gt;Looking more puzzled this time,my father said,”What are you talking about.Look,my son is here!” Everybody just shook their heads in disbelief after they recognize me.”How could it be?”was all they could utter.&lt;br /&gt;The place was evident of what happened.Broken softdrink bottles,marks of wheels on the pavement due to the sudden brakes…and the grease and dirt on both my hands. God kept His promise.&lt;br /&gt;As years went by,He proved to me all the more of His existence.One instance,as my mom was hanging the laundry to dry,she was terrified to see me tumbling down the staircase.She immediately ran to catch me.Then,in a blink of an eye before I hit the ground below,I was already sitting comfortably on the third step of the staircase. It seems nothing happened and my mom never even realized how it happened.&lt;br /&gt;Another instance,I was trying to slide down by the stairs handrail,as I usually see other guys doing that.The next thing that took place is that my parents found me hanging dangerously at the top with my head toward the ground.I was in that situation for quite some time already and only a rusty nail holding my shirt,separates me from life to virtual death.That nail eventually broke after my parents lifted me up!&lt;br /&gt;I have come to witness miracles from God,great and small,all throughout my life. Poverty,sickness,failures,weaknesses,temptations even death,tried to destroy me but without success. His promise to me,that Sunday evening at the church,remains established. My questions of His existence had long been answered…in my dreams,in my loneliness,in those tranquil moments,in my answered prayers and fulfilled dreams…I found Him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-4248162689194519088?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/4248162689194519088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/this-is-my-story.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/4248162689194519088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/4248162689194519088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/this-is-my-story.html' title='This is my Story'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScZB1kpuqEI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9dUcJ-QrOrw/s72-c/Boy+and+truck.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-8274952913594957837</id><published>2008-01-17T20:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T00:14:21.198-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shades of Gray</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTOVKbUjZI/AAAAAAAAAFA/IIEDbEazeE0/s1600-h/lonely.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315600323175550354" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTOVKbUjZI/AAAAAAAAAFA/IIEDbEazeE0/s200/lonely.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 160px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the silence of the night&lt;br /&gt;I lie in bed awake&lt;br /&gt;needing for something&lt;br /&gt;I cannot realize&lt;br /&gt;for whatever it is.&lt;br /&gt;Wanting for nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A sort of a feeling&lt;br /&gt;that is quite uncertain&lt;br /&gt;a melancholy, perhaps&lt;br /&gt;which usually happens&lt;br /&gt;whenever I’m alone;&lt;br /&gt;Needing for nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times I’d feel like cryin’&lt;br /&gt;without much of a reason&lt;br /&gt;or wanting to talk with&lt;br /&gt;someone I’ve only known&lt;br /&gt;in my lonely dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Longing for nothing at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-8274952913594957837?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/8274952913594957837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/shades-of-gray.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/8274952913594957837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/8274952913594957837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/shades-of-gray.html' title='Shades of Gray'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTOVKbUjZI/AAAAAAAAAFA/IIEDbEazeE0/s72-c/lonely.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-2977810682668387436</id><published>2008-01-17T20:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-28T00:14:52.525-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTEzBl1ffI/AAAAAAAAAEY/p0iIz1UgLTw/s1600-h/rain_accra_oct03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315589841083530738" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTEzBl1ffI/AAAAAAAAAEY/p0iIz1UgLTw/s200/rain_accra_oct03.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 150px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;( Inspired by the sound of the raindrops,one afternoon as I lay on my bed by the window...)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sing to me a love song&lt;br /&gt;like no one else before&lt;br /&gt;a song that’ll fill my heart&lt;br /&gt;with wonderful delight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Play to me a music&lt;br /&gt;like waters in the night,&lt;br /&gt;like an ever-flowing stream&lt;br /&gt;that never runs&amp;nbsp;dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hum to me a lullabye&lt;br /&gt;like a mother to her child&lt;br /&gt;make a rhythm together&lt;br /&gt;with the beating of my heart!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-2977810682668387436?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/2977810682668387436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/rain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2977810682668387436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2977810682668387436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/rain.html' title='Rain'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTEzBl1ffI/AAAAAAAAAEY/p0iIz1UgLTw/s72-c/rain_accra_oct03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-1824936962908480431</id><published>2008-01-17T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T20:53:55.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Still Hour : A Glimpse of Eternity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTFa2Hu3BI/AAAAAAAAAEg/VtT13kc1HCg/s1600-h/still+hour.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315590525199244306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTFa2Hu3BI/AAAAAAAAAEg/VtT13kc1HCg/s200/still+hour.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;( I wrote this one afternoon in college while sitting alone behind the school campus,before attending class... )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting alone&lt;br /&gt;in this quiet place&lt;br /&gt;You showed me a glimpse&lt;br /&gt;of Your Holiness;&lt;br /&gt;the afternoon sun&lt;br /&gt;that brightly beams above&lt;br /&gt;consumed my eyes&lt;br /&gt;like the glorious radiance&lt;br /&gt;coming from the very&lt;br /&gt;awesome throne of God!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those lively grass&lt;br /&gt;spreadin’ across the fields&lt;br /&gt;Seems to stood in awe&lt;br /&gt;like nations of worshippers.&lt;br /&gt;The leaves on the trees&lt;br /&gt;that keep on swaying&lt;br /&gt;seems to be like angels-&lt;br /&gt;like lovely cherubims&lt;br /&gt;clapping and dancing&lt;br /&gt;with their beautiful wings!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gentle breeze&lt;br /&gt;that blows into my hair&lt;br /&gt;feels like a sweet caress&lt;br /&gt;filled with love so tender;&lt;br /&gt;The stillness of the day,&lt;br /&gt;that makes holy this very hour&lt;br /&gt;and this unspeakable joy&lt;br /&gt;bursting in my soul,&lt;br /&gt;makes me feel being wrapped&lt;br /&gt;in Your arms forevermore!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-1824936962908480431?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/1824936962908480431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/still-hour-glimpse-of-eternity.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/1824936962908480431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/1824936962908480431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/still-hour-glimpse-of-eternity.html' title='The Still Hour : A Glimpse of Eternity'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTFa2Hu3BI/AAAAAAAAAEg/VtT13kc1HCg/s72-c/still+hour.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-2812337938131220390</id><published>2008-01-15T22:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T21:02:51.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Graduate's Reflection</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTIZHfOPKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kjhvb966FVI/s1600-h/GradCaps.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315593794036317346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTIZHfOPKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kjhvb966FVI/s200/GradCaps.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;( This was written a couple of hours after my college graduation on March 21,2002.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another chapter ends&lt;br /&gt;another is to unfold&lt;br /&gt;like a morning sunshine&lt;br /&gt;promising a new world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday's been a dream&lt;br /&gt;the joys and pains alike&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is a vision&lt;br /&gt;with much greater task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy today&lt;br /&gt;to reap the fruit of labor&lt;br /&gt;I am eager to face&lt;br /&gt;my life's new endeavors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ready to go&lt;br /&gt;'though with a heavy heart&lt;br /&gt;for I now leave behind the&lt;br /&gt;things that's been part of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I look forward&lt;br /&gt;beyond greater horizons!&lt;br /&gt;But also today I look back&lt;br /&gt;at my early aspirations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another step was taken&lt;br /&gt;closer to that Victor's crown.&lt;br /&gt;Another battle is over&lt;br /&gt;but the best is yet to come!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-2812337938131220390?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/2812337938131220390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/graduates-reflection.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2812337938131220390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2812337938131220390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/graduates-reflection.html' title='A Graduate&apos;s Reflection'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTIZHfOPKI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kjhvb966FVI/s72-c/GradCaps.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-2955015618765299303</id><published>2008-01-15T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T21:01:17.101-07:00</updated><title type='text'>After Dark</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTKHMGV_bI/AAAAAAAAAEw/NLIKU7TAN6k/s1600-h/Night+shadows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315595685059755442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTKHMGV_bI/AAAAAAAAAEw/NLIKU7TAN6k/s200/Night+shadows.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;( I wrote this after walking alone one midnight thru the silent streets in Tacloban city)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outlines&lt;br /&gt;of diff'rent figures&lt;br /&gt;Casting shadows&lt;br /&gt;upon the streets&lt;br /&gt;as the entire city&lt;br /&gt;is fast asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A series&lt;br /&gt;of street lights&lt;br /&gt;illuminating&lt;br /&gt;every highways&lt;br /&gt;piercing through&lt;br /&gt;the dark of night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Occasional&lt;br /&gt;sounds of horns&lt;br /&gt;coming from cars&lt;br /&gt;passing by&lt;br /&gt;breaking the silence&lt;br /&gt;once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch&lt;br /&gt;of children lying&lt;br /&gt;beside the street&lt;br /&gt;notwithstanding&lt;br /&gt;what may come&lt;br /&gt;or what might happen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-2955015618765299303?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/2955015618765299303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/after-dark.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2955015618765299303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/2955015618765299303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/after-dark.html' title='After Dark'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_WSHvSJkmdRI/ScTKHMGV_bI/AAAAAAAAAEw/NLIKU7TAN6k/s72-c/Night+shadows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2811599566862878920.post-6261523801672641918</id><published>2008-01-13T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T10:20:33.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Para Kay Inay</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Li8VNOUkO18/TdFg17emYWI/AAAAAAAAANw/pG50TILnsp4/s1600/Nanay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Li8VNOUkO18/TdFg17emYWI/AAAAAAAAANw/pG50TILnsp4/s320/Nanay.jpg" width="234" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Years ago during college days,&amp;nbsp;I woke up in the middle of the night feeling emotional...grabbing a pen and a paper I simply poured out...I even cried after finished writing...one of&amp;nbsp;my most favorite literary attempt..)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa lahat ng pangarap ko&lt;br /&gt;kasama ka Inay&lt;br /&gt;Ang lahat ng pag-sisikap ko&lt;br /&gt;sa'yo ko iniaalay&lt;br /&gt;Ang iyong pag-mamahal&lt;br /&gt;ang s'yang ilaw ko't gabay&lt;br /&gt;Hanggang sa marating ko&lt;br /&gt;ang minimithing tagumpay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko malilimutan&lt;br /&gt;lahat ng 'yong pag-hihirap&lt;br /&gt;Maibigay mo lang sa'min&lt;br /&gt;ang magandang bukas&lt;br /&gt;Ang tanging puhunan mo&lt;br /&gt;ay pawis,dugo at lakas&lt;br /&gt;Ang tanging pamana mo'y&lt;br /&gt;pag-ibig na walang katumbas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nais kong malaman mo&lt;br /&gt;na minamahal kita&lt;br /&gt;Taos-pusong pasasalamat&lt;br /&gt;sa'yo ay ipadadama&lt;br /&gt;Dumating man ang sandaling&lt;br /&gt;hindi na kita makikita&lt;br /&gt;Habambuhay kang iuukit&lt;br /&gt;sa puso ko't ala-ala!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2811599566862878920-6261523801672641918?l=myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/feeds/6261523801672641918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/para-kay-inay-literary-attempt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/6261523801672641918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2811599566862878920/posts/default/6261523801672641918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myliteraryattempts.blogspot.com/2008/01/para-kay-inay-literary-attempt.html' title='Para Kay Inay'/><author><name>jon orteza</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06328316565914045388</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Li8VNOUkO18/TdFg17emYWI/AAAAAAAAANw/pG50TILnsp4/s72-c/Nanay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
