Lamenta Lingua ____
VOLUME 2
Lamenta Lingua ____
W r i t i n g t h e U n s p o k e n W h i s p e r s o f t h e S o u l "
VOLUME 2
“There is no time to leave important words unsaid.”
PAULO COELHO
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
firstly, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to my LELLS Family, both officers and members, for their time and support that led us to the success of this year’s literary folio.
Next, I would like to thank all the aspiring writers that shared their unsaid thoughts and used their creativity in order to lend their voices to this project. I would also like to thank our wonderful adviser, Mr. Christian Loid Valenzuela, for his unwavering support in the endeavors of our organization.
Lastly, I Would like to say my appreciation to everyone involved for this project to become possible.
May all of your hearts be filled with love and peace.
Sharing lots of love, LELLS Fam!
AEROS RAPHAEL MORALES PRESIDENT, LELLS
EDITOR’S NOTE
Hi there! How’s your heart? I specifically thought about the concept of this literary folio to check on you. I hope you appreciate it, I hope you find this folio as an outlet for your unspoken emotions. You’ve been so brave, I’m so proud of you. Let this folio be a reminder that you are not alone, that there are people who will listen to you. Emotions are better said than kept. Keep going, dude!
MAGSOMBOL BUSINESS MANAGER, LELLS
TRIGGER WARNING: SOME ENTRIES INCLUDE SENSITIVE TOPICS AND CAN BE DISTURBING. READER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
In The Shadows
BY: L. WILL
Once as a child, I saw something that's embedded in my min
Shadows of two individuals, One is being put in silence. While the other is taking off her clothes, Then seconds later, he pulled her close.
I peaked a little more longer, Sweat drops into my face as I watch such horror.
A girl, around seventeen to twenty, And a man, probably in his mid-forties. Reflecting, it was the maid, Alongside with the man that is demonic by name.
This memory pulses through my veins, A constant echo of my chain.
Why take advantage of people who only wants to study and earn money?
When greed and lust take control of you, Innocence is stolen, and trust is through.
Your image might look good to others, But for me, you’re a demon that covers up his true colors.
This story might be old, But it's always new to the one that holds. A story of a sex offender, Someone who abuses, But calls himself a father.
late registration
BY: hykeem
Thesis statements, I procrastinate, dos level stress but I’m still great. this poem trash, but the vision’s true.
all-nighters with Late Registration playing tres feel like the devil’s grading. "Dropout?" uhm nah just delayed glory, God writes my story.
burden
BY: 50736
did i become a burden to you, a factor of your annoyance? your silence spoke the truth so i have to keep my distance. all i wanted is time with you, the way i feel your presence; i wish you see my point of view on why i linger like a nuisance.
i guess i'm a burden to you, and you don't have to say it, because i already knew and i have to keep myself quiet. i see your heart, so blue, oh how would i turn it red? "there's nothing you can do," you whispered in secret.
The Weight of Becoming
BY: Darcie Kaye
Born in a world that didn't bear the consequences of haste, Each mistake hanging like a confession, Clad in silence like a war-braiding, That all-encompassing smile suppressed a raucous storm, Walking paths of choices neither mine In ever-uncomfortable shoes.
Dreams were put on hold to let life take a front seat. Joy sneaked through the cracks of responsibly-defined duties. Tears went well under the pillows. There could hardly be any pierced answer to all my prayers. I learned to be "strong" even before I knew anything about it.
Too young to take a rest, too old to shed tears, Expected to blossom without an ounce of light. If anything, love was just a whisper, never a promise. Safety it was something others found.
Some days screamed for solitude; Another day wanted nothing but to be seen. Not as a project, nor as a role, But as a person who kept trying, Even when that meant crying.
I wasn’t taking reckless chances; I was reaching. Not defiant, just tired of shrinking away. "I'm fine" was my paper shield In a world too jagged for soft hearts.
Growing up was not all flowers and sunshine. It really was dirt and fatigue and falling And calling it flight.
Hope was my only nightlight some nights.
With heartbreak imprinted on my ribcage, I charted the way back to myself. From broken threads I stitched beauty
Not because it was easy, but because I refuse to be small.
So, they can call me soft, They can say I am quiet. They don't know the wars I've fought
To be standing here—
Still growing, Still burning, Still becoming.
For You
BY: LovinglyShadow
From a far, I watch your world unfold. Feeling fulfilled, catching a glimpse of you. I saw tears fall from your eyes. I saw that dimple when you smile. Kindness blooms within you, It inspires me everytime. There's a light that surrounds you, you can't just see it. You're busy insulting yourself, while I'm here busy admiring you.
I just want you to know, I just want you to feel, Your peresence echoes. You're someone else's dream. I will keep loving you, even if it's unseen How I wish I can tell you this. I'm so grateful that you exist.
BY: ~Elise Rose~
The Darkness creeps out...
Felt like the thoughts may leak out, It's heavy and heavy... Cannot control it fully.
Someone savE me...
Someone call for me,
Someone reach out to me...
Someone take it off me,
How Amusing...
How the mind make me feel like a weakling, How curious... How the darkness inside me lives luxurious,
The Darkness creeps out...
Felt like the thoughts may leak out, It's heavy and heavy... Can I control it fully?
the lady and the bird
BY: 50736
once upon a day, a little bird came to play. then came a lady in sight; her eyes are what a delight.
he tried to sing a song, but she never hummed along. he gazed outside your window, but his presence, she doesn't know.
he always admired her beauty, but she never saw him flying free. he caught himself in her eyes, but his grace, she never realized.
he wished he was more adored like how she loves flowers more; her eyes linger with their glow, but the bird, she wasn't known.
inSANE
BY: scoshi
He seeks solace to a man's embrace
Never forgetting the received grace
A person who wants a place
Even if it is in the darkest place
A lonely being lost in reality
He experienced richness and poverty
Both during his puberty
Which makes him accept that life is not something to be taken lightly
He feels alive but also dead
Like he is in the middle of the bridge
The bridge of life and death
In every step he takes, he's minding the edge
His determination is impeccable
It's just sad that his eyes are somewhat disable
Blurry visions that affects his decisions
To take the risk or to stay silent in one's position
Finding his lost purpose is tough
He wants to paint, but rough
Always hearing the others bluff
Maybe it's time to do his stuff
To pretend normal
Like a person with morals
But deep down it oral
Behind he is immoral
Anatomy of Loving You
BY: HALCYON
I loved you like a surgeon loves the open chest with reverence, with rubber hands, and a prayer for the blood not to speak too loud. You, the cadaver of my quiet hopes, still warm from someone else’s name.
Your smile is a wound I’ve studied for years. Clean edges. No infection. No spac I dissect surgical organs t Every gl Every w that use
so devastatingly pure a sterile field I dare not enter, but watch from behind the glass with notes in the margins: “He never flinches when they touch him.” “He never asks why it hurts.”
I write dissertations on your indifference to me. Postmodern. Peer-reviewed. Filed under: Studies in Unnecessary Devotion. I’ve been your shadow so long, I started to miss the way absence aches.
You say my name sometimes— like it’s a riddle you already solved. As if I’m a version of truth you’ve outgrown. As if loving me would be an unsanitary thing to do.
But still I love you. With formaldehyde in my throat and a spine too pragmatic to break. I love you like the death of God not loudly, but in every small, irreversible undoing of what I used to call myself.
I love you with the kind of wisdom only pain teaches: that sometimes, the most sacred thing you can do is rot gracefully in someone else’s blind spot.
questions
BY: Luna
Why do I need to run the extra mile?
Why do I have to cry with a smile?
Why can't I just be like them?
Why can't I stand like a stem?
Who am I to be overwhelmed?
Who am I to be compelled?
Who are you to care about me?
Who are you to stay and see?
What if I'm crumbling?
What if I'm dying?
What are the odds of you trying to save, This girl who's digging her own grave?
the vow of silence
BY: Christian Loid Valenzuela
I may not have the capacity of a dictionary, but I know all the words I want to tell— only to choose not to say anything
I have all the letters at my disposal, only to throw them all away— instead of sending at least one to you
I have the language at my perusal, only to deliver a blank message, leaving you only with nothing.
Nothing. It must be nothing. Because I know when I say something, Everything will change and we'll both hate that.
I guess there are words should be left unsaid.
CLOSING REMARKS
Remember, your words are your power Never forget your words — Lang Leav
Words made up a language that became instrumental to convey our emotions But what if we can't choose the right words or maybe have not seized the moment to use any of them? Silence is a powerful language as it transmit numerous layers of feelings—happy, inspired, sad, disappointed Our silence matter, especially in times where we only need to listen and fathom the words. But not every time we must be silent, especially if moral obligation calls us for it
Words are the weapons everyone possess but cannot fully optimize. There are instances that we lack the words for the feelings or behaviour we want to emphasize rather our body fills the gap instead Whenever our body and words became one, that is the time where we could be better communicators We resonate the intended energy sufficient to our advocacies
Words and body prove our existence in this reality It is through how we put our body in action with the accompaniment of words that we stand firm amidst the chaotically perfect world we all share This amalgamation perpetuates our purpose as to why we existed in the first place
If words turned to be silent, what else could be there? Does it mean that we cannot exist?
Lingua Lamenta, the latest literary folio of the League of English Language and Literature Students, offers a walkthrough to investigate how powerful the words and silence May this folio be everyone's reminder that the words, silence and body are sine qua non for one's existence
CHRISTIAN LOID VALENZUELA ADVISER, LELLS
