The Poems of Jose Garcia Villa

If there is one favorite Filipino poet I like, it would be none other than the sublimely cantankerous poems of Jose Garcia Villa. Indeed, one of his poems about coconuts I once orally recited in a Speech class way back when I was a nursing student, and boy did I get the warmest applause from my classmates and the nodding approval of my bemused speech instructor. Here it goes:

The coconuts have ripened,
They are like nipples to the tree.
(A woman has only two nipples,
There are many women-lives in a coconut tree.)
Soon the coconuts will grow heavy and full:
I shall pick up one…many…
Like a child I shall suck their milk,
I shall suck out of coconuts little white songs:
I shall be reminded of many women.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I shall kiss a coconut because it is the nipple of a
woman.

The aforesaid poem was composed by Jose Garcia Villa when he was only 17 years old!

This is another poem of Villa's that speaks of the wonders of the procreative process:

Now lies she quiet, quiet,
Like moonlight by him.
Quiet. Quiet. Knowing
His jewels are in her.
Quiet. Quiet. Knowing
He is quiet but will
Arise again. Quiet. Quiet.
But he will arise again.

And this poem that is probably the most verbally insane incarnation of the rudiments of sex:

Curve of gold above her
In the golden night,
Seventeen times I rose
Creating our child.
Seventeen kisses she gave me
In that golden night,
Seventeen times I rose
Creating our child.
Seventeen times I sang her
In that golden night,
Seventeen times I rose
Creating our child.
Seventeenth lift of gold,
Seventeenth fall of love,
in her golden soil
Sown sweet our child.

But of course, Villa delved even into the domain of the saints:

All saints are naked (how
terribly true) they sit on
grass and play with mice
(how terribly, terribly nice)
All saints are naked (how
terrible wicked) they sit
on grass and play with mice.
Delight is such a little term
for such a lovely view!

Yes, Jose Garcia Villa is the poet that titillates as much as he impregnates one's imagination with the seeds of verbal chicanery. Naughty poet indeed!