Arts and Humanities

By Rainbow Brite

What’s in the Arts and the Humanities ?

When Art takes form- it is Sculpture; When Art complements hue with symmetry, texture, style, balance and angle at a vantage point- it is Painting;

When Art harmonizes with melody and lyrics- it is Music; When Art testaments the vivid, exquisite, panoramic, captivating, stunning, magical and unique representation of life- it is Literature. All four, reflective and reminiscent of the Humanities.

In Arts and Humanities –

Literature unfolds and heralds the colorful saga, adventure, experiences, culture, language and world of characters : protagonists, antagonists or supporting cast in human folly, mystery, splendor, passion, dreams, challenges, sorrow-happiness, defeat-triumph, death-life, war-peace, hate-love; and

It unravels the mystiques of life-human psyche, thoughts, views, feelings and emotions.

Music is the language of the soul, played from cradle to grave-the spice that flowers life;

Painting displays and epitomizes the artistic expression of humanity’s special talent and skill likewise together with – Sculpture shaped and made into human form, animals, plants and inanimate or abstract objects to celebrate life and beauty of the many splendored things around us – The Sublime God created, That makes you and me liberatingly sigh with relief and in awe with inner peace, overflowing joy and happiness !

Dear Brian, I’ve never seen you coming in my Tenebrous world—

Remember, in that Cafe?

With that unabashed eye contact— I gazed at your melancholic eyes: I knew, I just knew— you were the one.

My heart bleeds with your story

How your parents forsaken you, How you scuffled through life— How you grappled to survive— to be alive.

Yes--you are strong, weak as you thought you were, You are a Spartan in my eyes--the toughest person I knew.

I read your story “The Acacia and the Earth”, indeed we sustain each other dear, we do. The lights and shadows in our lives are ever uncertaln, unsure, unknown.

But-- let us give it a try...

Let us begin day by day, One little step after the other. You put a lamp on my face— You are my torch in this crazy, miserable world so-- come home to me and I will be here waiting--in the sofa with the cold bottles of beer, the chicken adobo and the enchiladas.

Love, “Melanie”

“…”

by Revin Xavier L. Ignacio

I want to feel the love again The kisses on the forehead, The smiles that break into laughter and the lasting genuine heartbeat in sync; as one

I want to feel that warmth again, That heat of safety and comfort. The hot breath of voice, calming and soothing this erratic heart.

What’s most is the need to have that home That brushes your tears away, Sings you to slumber, and keeps the nightmares at bay. I need you but don’t know you. Still, I’ll be waiting.

Time can only tell how much. I’ve wanted that same feeling. And I hope you’ll come sooner and more certainly …

I Am Who I Was

By Gwyneth A. Sildon

Itreaded cautiously through the cold and somber dullness that enveloped the once-vibrant outlook. The street lights dimmed, casting an eerie glow on the damp, icy surroundings. Each step I took on the narrow road seemed confined by the clinging fog. Suddenly, a whimper shattered the deafening silence, bringing my cheerless and shuffling pace to a halt. Intrigued, I followed the sound, my feet compelled to uncover its origin. As the fog dispersed, a poignant scene emerged—a proud mother, hands on her waist, looking down at a howling child, squatting on the ground.

August 12, 2010

In that moment, my mind's eye flashed back to a similar image, but with altered characters—a furious father and a sobbing daughter. The sight pierced through me, opening old wounds that had long been buried. It transported me six years back when the same scene played out outside our house. My father, in his beastly shape, unleashed a barrage of curses while I wept in silence, my gaze fixed on nothingness as blood trickled from a small cut on my legs and onto the ground.

It was so unfair. I didn't deserve the bristle of his uncontrolled rage. That afternoon, all I had intended to do was feed the birds. In an unfortunate mishap, I untied the secure knot of their cage, setting them free. With their food in one hand and a cup of water in the other, I calmly watched as they disappeared from sight, as if nothing had happened. But those birds were more than just birds— they were my father's cherished pets. Visiting and teasing them had become his daily joy after exhausting days at the garden. And now, I had taken that away from him. Oh, the weight of my actions became unbearable. I knew my father all too well.

As soon as my father returned home, a sense of unease gripped me. I watched his every move, hoping against hope that he would not notice his birds were gone. But fate had a different plan. He headed straight to the porch, and I sensed the storm brewing. Hastily, I unfolded my crossed legs, rose from the long pine bench at the far end of our kitchen, and fled from the house.

"Wanaaaaaaay!" his scream pierced the air.

I knew it! I braced myself for the impending storm of his ruthless anger. With my heart pounding, I felt a numbing sensation as his rampage carried him from the door to the front yard, where I stood frozen. In my trembling voice, I tried to explain, but my words fell on deaf ears. Without warning, he kicked my feet, forcing me to the ground. The pain rendered me numb. That was it—the anger I had expected, coupled with unexpected physical brutality. I could see his mouth moving, yelling at me, but I heard not a word. The pain consumed every fiber of me until I found myself alone in the darkness, silently shedding tears.

I cried. The pain cut deep. Yes, my father had always been strict, but caring at the same time. I didn’t anticipate that he would turn to physical violence. From that moment on, fear became the guiding force at home and in school. It was like living under a monarch's rule, where I had to become a mindless zombie, bending over backward to please my master.