Poetry by Orlando Sayman Jr. | February 3, 2008
they shun him just because
his hair is golden like the sun
skin painted with bright hues
like the sky scent reminiscent
of the earth’s elements
they close their ears on his songs
the silent and sad sea melodies
his music a sound of the breeze
sweeping through deaf streets
each drumbeat a heavy knock
on a door swiftly shut behind him
Continue reading Badjao
Poetry by Allen Samsuya | February 3, 2008
I wish love were just like instant noodles –
that it came with its flavor written on its pack—
sweet or spicy,
nothing too strange for the tongue;
that it came with instructions:
Cook in briskly boiling water for three minutes.
Mix special seasoning of secrets and soy sauce into a paste.
Drain noodles of unnecessary water. Mix well with the prepared paste.
ENJOY.
That it could be consumed,
whether a little half- or over- cooked,
‘til hunger is no more;
that it would warn
every starving boy and girl
when it will expire.