Compendium

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad [[POEMS]] [[STORIES]] [[DOODLES]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad [[St. Luke's Stories]] [[Sandy Summers]] [[A Sonnet]] [[Haikus]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad [[World without Paper]] [[Games, 1970]] [[Mr. Sinungaling]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad [[All Doodles->img8]] [[St. Luke's Stories->img3]] [[Sandy Summers->img6]] [[A Sonnet->img5]] [[Haikus->img2]] [[World without Paper->img4]] [[Games, 1970->img7]] [[Mr. Sinungaling->img1]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig02.deviantart.net/9296/f/2015/356/6/1/st__luke_s_stories_by_ilyilaice-d9l2imq.jpg"> st. luke's stories for Mom and Dad a quarter century ago amidst priests belly laughing, amidst mothers pinching their daughters to hula, a girl with spindly legs, big hair met a boy with a moustache, glasses square later, for her mother's weekly inhalation session — her mother, pincher of all pinchers — the girl pushed her spindly legs up, skirt flapping at her knees, breath catching, huffing- puffing up the steps of the great hospital, big hair pouffed to perfection, all to see the boy with the pulmo-aide, with the blue uniform, with the glasses askew maybe she knew he'd stew five recipes in her tummy — the third, the spicy, was me the boy rushed down past i.v. stands and stretchers, glasses askew, in a cloud of blue balloons — it's a boy! it's a girl! girl again! girl again! boy again! the first girl would grow to scuttle down those imitation marble halls, her white sleeves lengthening to cover up her arms respectably, coat first blunt then swishy to the knee but that's another story <center>[[BACK TO POEMS->POEMS]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig05.deviantart.net/8349/f/2015/356/7/0/sandy_summers_by_ilyilaice-d9l33j6.jpg"> sandy summers for Mom and Dad rub your toes before you reach the bed. cards and sand discarded. minty lemon bottles will stave off the sweat. this is our vacation, we can't feel tired yet. take photos of the beach at night and orbs rest on our shoulders. not ghosts, only the spooky fun of tomorrow's aluminum prickle lunches. the car rides back, jolty slow, catfights and crisps crunching, never quiet. <center>[[BACK TO POEMS->POEMS]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig06.deviantart.net/18ef/f/2015/356/3/e/a_sonnet_by_ilyilaice-d9l2s8c.jpg"> A Sonnet for Mom A scarf adorns her neck, sunglasses shade Mysterious gaze. Brown hair in waves, her cheek Bones prominent, blushed pink. The Promenade Parts way when she sashays, her daughters meek While following her wake. She's gentle when She holds their hands, magnanimous she says Her praise. She tells them try and try again For even when in distant lands for days She never fails to keep track of their lives With roaming phone. And soon she's home to hold Them close. This best of mothers, best of wives — These boxes from abroad can't match her gold. And though her voice is sometimes sharp, a knife, Her words will slice you new for better life. <center>[[BACK TO POEMS->POEMS]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig09.deviantart.net/195a/f/2015/356/a/5/haikus_by_ilyilaice-d9l2duc.jpg"> Haikus for Mother's Day 2012 Once I passed a bridge Above familiar waters My head in the clouds From within our car A woman with half-red lips Nudged me wide awake With deep excitement She pointed out the window To distant white birds Aligned on phone line They were pure darts of color Against murky sky She said, count these birds To know your lucky number For each brand new day She said, find fortune Find beauty and hope within The unexpected Since that fateful day I have never been able To think birds hopeless <center>[[BACK TO POEMS->POEMS]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig02.deviantart.net/a7e7/f/2015/356/f/5/games__1970_by_ilyilaice-d9l39l2.jpg"> Games, 1970 for the Varquez-Dano children “Let’s go, troops!” Lisa shouts. She is General MacArthur again today. I am always a lowly foot soldier, but I don’t mind because that means I get to ride in the tank. Lisa yanks the blanket on top of which Cynthia and I are sitting and drags us around the garden. Cynthia and I try to stifle our laughter as we tumble around and go pew-pew-pew, shooting at Anne, who is blitzing around, shrieking, “Banzai!” Lisa draws an imaginary sword and sticks it clean through Anne’s chest. Anne gives a shuddering gasp and falls down instantly, whump, on the pile of raked leaves. Doesn’t bother about caterpillars or anything. This is why only Anne can be the bad guy in our war games — she’s the only one who has no qualms whatsoever about dying dramatic deaths that always leave her with bits of leaf stuck in her hair and scrapes on the backs of her skinny thighs. Lisa sheathes her sword, and Cynthia and I jump up. The three of us clasp our hands and pump them in the air. “Victory!” Lisa calls. “All the Philippine troops are now liberated from the Japanese occupation.” Lisa adds to me, very matter-of-factly, “Today is the Silver Anniversary, you know. July 5, 1945: a glorious day for our sovereignty.” I nod sagely though I mostly have no idea what she’s talking about. Our victorious hold broken, Cynthia hurries over to Anne. She grabs Anne’s arm, turning it over to examine her elbow, which is rubbed red and raw. Being the eldest at nine, Cynthia is always fussing over us. Anne opens one eye from where she’s still lying motionless on the soil. “What are you doing?” she demands. “I always play the doctor,” Cynthia reminds her. “But I’m the enemy,” Anne says indignantly, sitting up and pulling her arm away. “Thou shalt love thy enemy,” I quote piously, “and pray for those who persecute them.” “Thank you, Donna,” Cynthia says quietly. I may be the youngest, but when we play our second favorite game, Holy Mass, I’m always the priest. There’s always a great deal of preparation before we can play this game — we have to roll up balls of Milo powder and stick them under our shared mattress, deep under where the ants can’t get to them. In a week or so, the balls will have flattened into discs, looking like the Holy Eucharist, though considerably burnt. I’ll dress all in white and put Mama’s green shawl over my neck, and my sisters will line up reverently before me. “The Body of Christ,” I’ll say, holding out the host. “Amen,” they’ll say in return. They’ll file to their pews — throw pillows from the sofa — and bow their heads in prayer. The spell is only broken when Anne, like always, shoots up and goes charging out the screen door, yelling back at us, “Let’s see who can catch the most damselflies in a jam jar!” <center>[[BACK TO STORIES->STORIES]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig04.deviantart.net/2dbc/f/2015/356/2/6/mr__sinungaling_by_ilyilaice-d9l29fb.jpg"> Mr. Sinungaling for the Varquez-Dano children It is a new day in a new city for Annie. They have just moved to Manila from Zamboanga del Sur. Annie and her sisters miss their home province, but they are excited to go to a new school. Mama calls to them, “Don’t forget your sandwiches!” There are three things Mama loves most: reading the Bible, making ham sandwiches for her daughters, and admiring her collection of rare coins from Saudi Arabia. “Bye, Mama!” the little girls say, holding their lunch boxes. Most of the little girls in their new school have always lived in Manila. Annie and her sisters are a curiosity. “Where are you from?” a classmate asks Annie. “The Great Wall of China,” Annie lies. Annie says she can do calligraphy, fancy Chinese writing. She says back in China she has a black horse and a saber. A cluster of girls gather around Annie and go ooh and aah. Mama and the Bible say that lying is a sin. But Annie just wants to be interesting so she can have friends. All Annie’s sisters have something interesting about them. Cynthia can do first aid. Lisa can do push-ups. Donna is good at drawing. But what about Annie? That night in bed, Annie hears a knocking on the window. There is a man with a red face and horns like a carabao. “Let me in,” says the red man. “Who are you?” Annie asks, frightened. “I am Mr. Sinungaling, your old friend,” the red man says. “I can also help you gain more friends.” Annie opens the window. Mr. Sinungaling crawls in. He sits beside Annie on the bed. Mr. Sinungaling has black claws on his red fingers and toes. He also has red eyes with big black pupils. He is a fearsome creature, but Annie feels like she already knows him. “You must give your classmates your Mama’s rare coins,” Mr. Sinungaling says, “then they will be your friends forever.” “Mama will be angry,” Annie tells him. “Not if she doesn’t know,” Mr. Sinungaling replies, wagging a clawed finger at her. Mr. Sinungaling and Annie tiptoe to Mama’s cabinet. Mama is snoring. Annie pours a handful of Mama’s rare coins into her schoolbag. Clink, clink, clink, the coins go. At recess the next day, Annie gives her classmates the rare coins. Annie says they are Chinese coins. Her classmates go ooh and aah. Annie is very popular today. Annie’s sister Donna comes up and asks what she’s doing. Annie does not mention Mr. Sinungaling, but she tells Donna about the coins. “Mama will get mad,” Donna says. “Mama loves those coins very much. Papa gave them to her.” “Do you want to be popular too?” Annie asks. “If you give the coins to your classmates, they will like you.” So Donna gives out coins too. Everyone in school now knows Annie and Donna as “the rich Chinese girls.” Annie and Donna are happy when they get home. But Mama is very angry. A teacher at school saw Donna giving the rare coins and called Mama at home. Mama spanks Donna. Donna cries. Annie watches with big eyes. “Go to your room!” Mama shouts. Donna obeys. Mama and Annie are alone now. “Papa in Saudi Arabia gave me those coins,” Mama tells Annie. “They are precious to me.” Mama is crying too. That night, Mr. Sinungaling visits Annie again. Annie is feeling very sad. “What is wrong?” Mr. Sinungaling asks her. He is chewing on a dead rat. “Mama is angry at Donna,” Annie tells him. “It’s all because of me.” “Did Mama spank you too?” Mr. Sinungaling asks. “No,” says Annie. “Then why do you care?” Mr. Sinungaling asks. “You’re not hurt. Who cares?” Annie cares. The next morning, Annie tells Mama the truth. “I stole your coins,” Annie confesses. “I gave them to my classmates to be popular. I said they were Chinese coins. I forced Donna to follow my example. It’s my fault.” Mama is very angry. She spanks Annie. Then Mama tells Donna she is sorry for hitting her before. “Return all my coins and I will forgive you,” Mama orders Annie. Annie promises she will. Annie’s behind is sore, but she and Donna hold hands on the way to school. At recess, Annie and Donna go to their classmates and ask for the coins. “Why?” Annie’s classmates ask. “You told us you have many more coins at home.” “They are Mama’s special coins,” Annie admits. “I’m sorry I lied.” Annie’s classmates drop the coins onto her palm. “I’m also not from China,” Annie says. “I’m from Zamboanga del Sur, in Mindanao.” Annie’s classmates are angry. One girl says, “I liked your stories. If only they were true.” “Do you want to know about our life in the province?” Annie asks. At first, only a few girls listen. But soon enough Annie’s entire class is gathered to hear Annie’s stories. Annie tells them about riding carabaos over rice fields and drinking coconut shakes for dinner every night. “This is even better than the legend of Tai Ling!” one classmate declares. No one can resist a good story, especially if it’s true. Mr. Sinungaling does not visit Annie again at night. Annie does not mind. She does not need Mr. Sinungaling as a friend anymore. Annie has Donna, and her sisters, and Mama who has forgiven her. Annie has many more friends at school who beg her for adventures from the province. Besides, Mr. Sinungaling was too scary, with his red face and his carabao horns. Whenever Annie is tempted to tell a lie again, she remembers Mr. Sinungaling, as if he is knocking on her mind. Annie never lies. She always tells the truth so that Mr. Sinungaling will not keep her up at night. <center>[[BACK TO STORIES->STORIES]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig08.deviantart.net/52e3/f/2015/356/b/4/world_without_paper_by_ilyilaice-d9l2nlj.jpg"> World without Paper for Dad My father told me a story spanning 1001 nights. He said I should tell it to my son, who will tell it to his son, and so on. My son is now cradling a tablet, scrawling up the black type. But when I need words, I close my eyes and remember that measured swell, subside. <center>[[BACK TO STORIES->STORIES]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>

<center>COMPENDIUM By Berry For Mom and Dad</center> <img src="http://orig02.deviantart.net/9296/f/2015/356/6/1/st__luke_s_stories_by_ilyilaice-d9l2imq.jpg"> <img src="http://orig05.deviantart.net/8349/f/2015/356/7/0/sandy_summers_by_ilyilaice-d9l33j6.jpg"> <img src="http://orig06.deviantart.net/18ef/f/2015/356/3/e/a_sonnet_by_ilyilaice-d9l2s8c.jpg"> <img src="http://orig09.deviantart.net/195a/f/2015/356/a/5/haikus_by_ilyilaice-d9l2duc.jpg"> <img src="http://orig08.deviantart.net/52e3/f/2015/356/b/4/world_without_paper_by_ilyilaice-d9l2nlj.jpg"> <img src="http://orig02.deviantart.net/a7e7/f/2015/356/f/5/games__1970_by_ilyilaice-d9l39l2.jpg"> <img src="http://orig04.deviantart.net/2dbc/f/2015/356/2/6/mr__sinungaling_by_ilyilaice-d9l29fb.jpg"> <center>[[BACK TO DOODLES->DOODLES]] [[BACK TO TITLE PAGE->START]]</center>