Reka's World

Butterfly Wings

On December 4, 2010, I received this Facebook message from Lostbooksof Benjamin. 

She said, "I am probably the only one that has the privilege of watching four thousand cadets rise and get dressed every morning." She said to me that she always wanted one of the hats that were thrown at graduation. I hope it still holds a place of distinction in her home.  All the best from a voice in the past.

I knew immediately who wrote that, Capt. Benjamin Hill.  He is an old friend whom I have lost touch with when the Army sent him to Germany.  He frequented Reka's Thai restaurant when he was at West Point.

I used to own a castle that overlooks the West Point campus, hence the reference to cadets in his message.  I’m honored to have had different classes over at the castle for their graduation celebrations.  I am also honored to have been their guest at many occasions including graduation ceremonies and at their Officer’s Ballroom Parties.

Capt. Hill later on went to medical school and became a doctor. The captain is now working on a novel called "Lostbooks of Benjamin."  He is also a great poet.  He wrote a poem for me years ago.  It’s still the most touching moment for me when he read to me a poem that he wrote on napkins.  I was running around taking care of my customers so I didn’t know he was composing a poem for me.  Later on, he typed it all up and since then I have it framed to treasure forever.

In his honor, I’m posting this poem.

Special Thai Butterfly “Reka”

A lovely face, disarming smile,
overwhelming graciousness, all the while;
Moments are golden, time concedes,
a charismatic smile, It’s all I need.

She moves about with great abounding, silent confidence,
With love resounding;
Hold the butterfly, but not so tight,
Wings are strong, intended for flight.

Fluttering here, flittering there,
Softly landing, with genuine care;
They who know,
Love her so;
They do wish, to share the glow.

Reka, the one with velvet wings,
Light a moment let your voice ring.
Share a minute, your time is gold;
Caress your wings,
Let time unfold.

Release you now, continue your flight,
My heart does hope, your return tonight;
But if our trip take you far away,
My love accompanies, though you don’t stay.

You have my love, in deep recesses,
Memories of you, fondly caresses;
My heart and mind, on butterfly wings, devoted to you, though loneliness stings.

Patiently, I wait for spring to come
For butterfly wings
To bring you home;

My heart jumps now,
Sounds surge so clearly,
Butterfly wings, brushing air so dearly.

There she stands
A sight unmatched;
Velvet beauty,
Passion attached.
Take me now, on your next venture.
Take me always, your servant indentured.

Touch my hand and brush my lips,
You’re my Helen, I’ll give you my ships.
Obsessed am I
With you completely.
Treasure my heart, I give it unyieldingly;

But your Thai style, keeps you away;
Endure the solitude, continuously, I pray.
Reka, my love, enjoy and grow;
I give you the world
My essence a-stow.

I will have you in every dream.
I will have you hand
And smile that beams.
You and I will still be one,

So fly my butterfly, fly so strong;
Your flight is true, no err, no wrong.

Patient I’ll wait, with hands a’ fronted
I’ll always be there
Forever…..undaunted.
B. Hill

 

Born To Write

Poetry
I believe that I was born to write, because I love to read. My parents loved to read so, growing up, we always had books everywhere at home. My mother could recite from memory—of the few we had had at home--Thai epics almost in their entirety.  In fact, my mother would use whole verses from some appropriate epic content when my siblings and I were scolded for our misbehaving.

The biggest part of my writing is poetry dating back to when I was still a small child.  At a very young age, I acknowledged the phenomenon of using poetry for recording memories.  Once I came upon various sets of writing tablets that were filled with beautiful scripts of medicinal remedies.  They belonged my great grandmother, a famous healer. My mother explained that my great grandmother wrote them in the form of poetry then memorized all the remedies by heart.

And Prose
When I was a teenager I also sent in my short stories to publishers and they were very well received.

However, the first one was sent back to me with a note from the editor.  She said she liked the story but her typesetters were not able to read my script.  She asked me to print it then send it back.

When my sister Renu heard about it, she bought me my first typewriter.  Renu was working as a nurse then.  She had given me her full month’s salary to buy me this typewriter and that I will treasure forever.

Early Attention
But it was for my poetry that teachers and schoolmates most often praised me at school.  “Your writings are great but your poetries are phenomenon”, one of my teachers announced.  At the age of eight, I truly felt that it was my first certification for a future career as a poet.  I still remember all of my early poems because of the deep impression such positive responses have given me.

When one of my poems was published in a children’s magazine, the whole school started calling me “Sri-prach” or “Soonthornpoo”, the most renowned poets in Thailand in the 18th Century. Some even called me “Shakespeare”. 

Once, one of the teachers said in class after he has read one of my poems,  “Judging by her work as a child writing something so complicated like that would take a 25-year old poet to accomplish; that makes her a genius in the poetry field.”  After that my classmates also started calling me “genius”.

We were always having impromptu poetry contests against other schools, colleges and universities. I was also known as “the fast and sweet one” because I could write for any given topic in minutes.

Looking back, I feel quite humbled by all the praise and attention.  As a young poet, I truly appreciated being part of that golden era in Thailand that I was blessed to be in.

An Audience of Royalty
At one time, a few poets and I had a private audience with His Majesty the King’s Mother, at her Srapratoom Palace. I also had audiences with a few princes and princesses who also loved poetry, held either at their palaces or at other poetry events where they presided.  We were honored but truly felt nervous until the secretaries briefed us on how to conduct ourselves, and that put us at ease.

Years later in America, I was asked by one of the princesses who lived here, Princess Hiranyachatra, to meet with her brother and show him around because we were both writers and wine lovers.  Prince Prem remains a legend even after he had passed away. He was only eleven when he was sent to England to further his studies. I had read about him as a child for his love of Literature and that when his father, King Rama the Fifth, asked him to study Engineering instead for the good of the country, he finished his Engineering study but stayed on to study Literature in Oxford.  He translated a few Thai epics to English and French and produced a few plays in both countries. He later started The Standard Newspaper and The Gourmet Club of Thailand when he went back to Thailand.

I had enjoyed my friendship with Prince Prem and his wife, Princess Ngamchit, for years until they both passed away. Even after Prince Prem’s passing, I still bring a special bottle of wine to add to his collections at the Siva Court where we had spent many happy moments together.  Whenever I brought wine, the princess would always say, “Too bad that the monk does not drink alcohol so we cannot offer it to him in his afterlife.”
Prince Prem and Princess Ngamchit have both been very kind to me.  At the princess’s funeral, my name was mentioned in the books that were given out to people during the service.

I also met Prince Prem’s youngest sister, Princess Vimolchatra, at The World Congress of Poets Convention in Thailand.  She said to me, “My brother told me you are the happiest girl in New York.”  I responded, “No, Princess, I am the happiest girl in the world. I compare myself only to me.”  She told me to write a book about my life.

Thailand reveres the Royal Family and, in their annual yearbooks, all the colleges reserve a special place to pay homage to our King and Queen. I feel great honor being asked to write that homage every year when I was in college. I would pick the most complicated form of Thai poetry and carefully search for just the right words to fit just the right spaces.

Prose and Poetry 101
In 1989, my closest poetess friend called to tell me that Thailand is hosting The 10th World Congress of Poets Convention and that I should attend because one of my poems was selected to be a part of the collections for the event.  I attended the Convention and met so many interesting poets from all over the world.

When I was showing my poem to one of my professors who came to visit with me during the event, she said, “Oh, they are using the same one we are using.” She had revealed to me that for many years, my poem had been a part of “Prose and Poetry 101”, a staple college textbook in Thailand.

The following day, as a gift, she gave me a copy of that textbook.  I wrote that poem about Thai music when I was 13 years old.  It was part of my first poetry collection that I had completed two years later.  I stared at my name and the date it was published.  I stared at the pages with my poetry in it.   At first I found it incomprehensible.

Then, of course, I was elated.  I recalled my teachers and schoolmates calling out to me, and for five minutes I felt like a genius.  It also brought me back to when I first saw my great grandmother’s poetry of remedies. I felt really honored, as if I were royalty.

The Eloquent Melody of Eli

Whence have I first heard the sweetest music play?
Was it from the talented fingers of a boy?
Was it from the passionate desires of a man?
It was from the melodious heart of Eli.

Whence have I first heard the velvety music sound?
Was it from the hollow chamber of a well-carved guitar?
Was it from the silvery chord of strings?
It was from the eloquent notes of Eli.

Whence have I first seen a musician strum with his artistic fingers?
Was it from a long ago concert or a great orchestra?
Was it from long lost scores in the library of music?
It was from the forever remembrance of Eli.

He played for me the purest musical arrangements.
It was music of inspiration and contentment.
It was music of unconditional love for mankind.
My world was perfect when Eli’s music played.

My world is perfect when Eli Acosta’s music plays.

Marcia Rudy

It is with love that I live.

It is with love that I share.

It is with love that I accomplish.

It is with love that I treasure you, Marcia.

 

We have met a few times.

We have shared our “Philosophy of Life”.

We have encountered different paths in our journey.

At one very special moment, we have become friends.

 

I treasure you Marcia Rudy

For you have given me your understanding,

Appreciating the wonderful--however different--paths I took,

Weaving my stories and sculpturing my life into a masterpiece of art.

 

Life is but a moment.

Let it be but a wonderful moment.

Rujireka, 7/22/10, New York

Waleska Williams Birthday

On this glorious Waleska Williams Birthday you are blessed.
There will be best wishes, flowers and songs of poetries.
For your heart is a garden of love and kindness.
Nurtured by angels, to flourish for centuries.

May your love for God be divine and eternal.
May your work for God be a blessing for mankind.
May your preaching for God be always inspirational.
May your presence in God be always on his mind.

With the humble power of your blessed friends and family,
May you forever prosper with unfathomable wealth to share,
With incredible health to carry on God’s work with dignity,
Forever, surrounded by all your fellowship who love and care.

You possess a heart so pure of love for God, for Jesus.
You possess a mind so passionate to preach.
The music will always play your songs of love for God and us.

For God loves you and those that you teach.

Rujireka, 7/7/10, New York

Happy Father's Day

He is a perfect picture of a gentleman.
When I was small enough to fit in his palms, he gave me the most gentle cradle.
When I was strong enough to stand on my own, he held my feet in his big hand and whirled me around.
When I was big enough to hold on tight, he laid down on the floor and sat me on his feet and flew me up in the air.
I know I will never fall nor falter, I know he will never let me fall nor falter.

He is with me, and when he is away, he is still with me.
He brought me meaningful presents from afar.
He sent me love from the distance.
He held on to the bond of our lives.
He gave me the strength I needed.

When I was hurt and sick, he was hurt and sick too.
When I was happy and successful, he was happy and successful with me.
When I was ready to be on my own, he encouraged me to be brave.
He is stoic, heroic and real; he is my father who blessed me.

Rujireka, 6/24/10, New York

The King of Thailand

He is the greatest tree with the deepest roots.
He gives sanctuary indiscriminately to all creatures.
He is unmovable and untaintable.
He is shielded by the great wall of unconditional love.

His root is sixty-three years old.
His trunk is sixty-three years young.
His branches reach unboundable perimeter.
His leaves are continuously revived.
His fruits are the ultimate elixir.

When a raging storm is shattering the tree,
When torrential rain is drenching the branches,
When the draught is shriveling the fruits,
And the fierce wind has blown away all the leaves,
The creatures scurry in tremendous despair.

Our tree is hurt, but we are hurt even more.
There is no shade to give us comfort.
There is no trunk to give us strength.
There is no water to quench our desires.
There is no food to nurture our dreams.

Our tree is damaged, but we are damaged even more.
Our deep-rooted culture is our souls.
Our unique custom is our minds.
Our colorful land is our bodies.
Our King is our hearts.
Thailand is our country, not yours.

There are other countries with different cultures.
There are other countries with different customs.
There are other countries with different civilizations.
There are many other countries with different ideas.
There is only one Thailand with all her pride.

Love Thailand for what Thailand is.
Love Thailand for what Thailand loves.
Love Thailand for what Thailand has.
Love Thailand for what you come to Thailand for.
Do not change Thailand to be what you come away from.
Hurting our King is hurting Thailand.
Learn to let the Thai people be free as it is our name.

Thai means Free.
Thailand is the land of the free.
She is proud, she is elegant and she is perfect.
When Thailand wants to change,
She will change.
Not before, not after, and not by anyone.

Rujireka, 5/27/10, New York

He Is My Prince

He is regal in his gentleness.
His grace is in his kindness.
His wisdom is in his soft speech.
He is exquisite in his being.

He sparkles with the brightness of countless stars.
He is loved with the passion of countless hearts.
He is admired with the acceptance of meaningful friends.
He is respected with all the cleverness of scholars.

He is wise beyond his tender years.                 
He is learned beyond what he was taught.
He is humble beyond his elegance.
He is my Prince and he is my friend.

Happy Birthday.
May 27, 2010

With all my love,
Reka Souwapawong

Two Poems for Anne-Lise

Inspired by friends close and dear to her, Reka spontaneously writes poetry.  These two poems, written last April, are dedicated to Anne-Lise:

Enchante Anne-Lise

Dear Anne-Lise,
Life is beautiful when one meets one as beautiful as you.
You are a perfect Ikebana, a wonderful way of flowers.
It is with love that one exudes love,
Graciously displaying weaving branches of life's philosophy,
Understanding one's nature as nature intended,
Exquisitely complementing The Way of Lives,
As lives complementing The Way of Flowers.
It is nature's intention that we met.
It is my intention that we remain friends as friends for life.
From one moment of our encounter last evening,
You have become a perfect Ikebana.
It is a privilege to have met you with a true meaning of,
Enchante Anne-Lise.

04/15/10

Sans-Souci

"Sans-Souci"
With every tender leaf and fragrant petal,
With every branch to guide my direction,
With every intention to comfort you,
I will build you a sanctuary.

I command you to leave all your stress, your tension and all you anxiety.
Gently and softly come into your place in your own heart.
For I will build it with your love of flowers, your love of the art of flowers.
I will build it with the art of "Ikebana", The Way of Flowers.

You shall restore you confidence,
Rekindle your love and master your skill.
You shall be ready for your task
To show the world the passion of your love for your art.
Be completely enchanted and inspired.

In your very own magical "Sans-Souci"

04/19/10

Happy Mother's Day

Inspired by friends close and dear to Reka, her email communication often transforms spontaneously into poetry.  This one is written in celebration Mother's Day.

For Mother,

I know you are beautiful for I met your children.
They are your children and they are your pride.
They were raised with gentle love and nurtured with delicate care,
With the strong bond of a mother who lives for her child.

They are little Prince and Princess who shall lead beautiful paths in this world.
They are different in all aspects and still they are perfect,
For they were guided through life by your loving heart and watchful eyes,
Entwining, weaving, directing and giving them needed space to grow.

It is you, who hold the family together,
Bestowing your kindness and quietly keeping boundary,
Educating, displaying how life should be lived.
It is you, an exquisite inspiration, I admire.

Happy Mother's Day,
With love,
Reka