Month: January 2014

USLS Announces the 14th IYAS National Writers’ Workshop

Editor's Note, Events by | January 13, 2014

Announcement from the IYAS workshop:

The University of St. La Salle-Bacolod (USLS) is inviting young writers to submit their application for the 14th IYAS National Writers’ Workshop which will be held on April 20-26, 2014 at Balay Kalinungan, USLS-Bacolod.

Applicants should submit original work: either 6 poems, 2 short stories, or 2 one-act plays using a pseudonym, in one (1) computer-encoded hard copy of entry, font size 12, and soft copies in a CD (MSWord). Short stories must be numbered, by paragraph.

These are to be accompanied by a sealed size 10 business envelope with the author’s real name and a pseudonym, a 2×2 ID photo, and short resume, which must be mailed on or before February 15, 2014.

Entries in English, Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Tagalog or Filipino may be submitted. Fellowships are awarded by genre and by language.

Fifteen applicants will be chosen for the fellowships, which will include partial transportation subsidy and free board and lodging.

This year’s panelists include Rebecca Añonuevo, Grace Monte de Ramos-Arcellana, Genevieve Asenjo, D.M. Reyes, John Iremil Teodoro, and Marjorie Evasco as Workshop Director.

Please submit your application to: Ms. Rowena Japitana, IYAS Secretariat, Special Projects Office, University of St. La Salle, La Salle Avenue, Bacolod City. For inquiries, please email iyasliterary at yahoo.com.

IYAS is held in collaboration with the Bienvenido N. Santos Creative Writing Center of De La Salle University-Manila and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts.

The Boy in the Corner, Part 1

Fiction by | January 12, 2014

The black bells rang. An eerie bong echoed along the dim hallway as a shadow loomed from the rusted gates of the school. The shadow came from the new student, Tim. He was a former student of Eagle Academy, but because of financial problems his parents enrolled him in the Gray Institute.

It was already recess when Tim arrived. The gates were still shut, but from where he stood, he saw figures of what seemed to be, the students of the school. Suddenly, the gates opened; creaking as it’s rusty hinges moved. Tim was nervous. He did not know what to do. He thought of running back home, but because he was well aware of his family’s problem, he chose to go forward. He could not afford to simply waltz away from an opportunity to learn.

Continue reading The Boy in the Corner, Part 1

To those who Followed the Summons of Poetry

Poetry by | January 12, 2014

They will see us
Gripping the Sands
Falling on our feet
We take them again
In our Cup-Hands
Put all the grains
of sands in a glass
and then slowly
we drink them and

They do not like
What they are seeing
and they shake their
Heads and Hide their
Hands in shame

We tell them wait
We are good people
We’ll show you the
Magic of our craft

We summon the
rain and it comes
We whistle the
wind and it hushes
We clap our hands
and the sun rises on

Our dimples
and then on our
heads above our
hairs the red
carnations begin
to grow.

We tell them
however
We are sorry
But this is just
temporary

In a few seconds
we become like
all of you again.

—
Ric Bastasa, is presently working as MTC Judge of Roxas, Zamboanga del Norte. He finished his BS Chemistry in Ateneo de Davao and Law in Andres Bonifacio College in Dipolog City.

Pagkabanhaw

Poetry by | January 12, 2014

Pagkabanhaw
ibabaw sa gilubngan
sa among iro’ng naligsan
gabarog ang labong nga santan
nga sa matag karon ug unya
mamulak og alibangbang.

usa ka hangyo
kon mahimo
ayaw intawon putla
ang mga gasiwagkang nga sanga
sa punoan
diha sa imong tugkaran
kay di lang ang mga langgam
ang nanginahangla’g
kabatogan ug kasilongan
lakip sad

ang kasingkasing
ang hunahuna

—
Gratian Paul R. Tidor is a young poet and visual artist from Dipolog City. He is a fellow of the 17th Iligan National Writing Workshop.

Padugo

Fiction by | January 5, 2014

“Legends say that blood lures gold and for a gold mine to be full of gold, it needs blood. But a goat’s blood is not enough,” said the fifty-eight year-old Mang Berto as he shared his story to his fellow small-scale miners during siesta as they rested in a nipa hut near the Matiao River. “The mine needs blood that is pure and innocent.” Mang Berto said coldly to everyone in the hut.

Mang Berto and his family lived in Matiao, a province where the primary source of profit for most people was mining. In his early thirties, he’d worked in a large-scale mining company called King Midas Mining Corp in the Gumayan province. The boss of the company, who the employees called Supremo, believed in a legend that a sacrificial ritual that involves offering of blood every last day of the month inside a mine would lure out the elusive gold nuggets. During his stay in Gumayan, Mang Berto worked as a hired kidnapper and the one who executed the ritual along with other hired kidnappers. His job brought instant money and soon enabled him to buy a small house. However, until one incident changed the course of his life.

Continue reading Padugo

Last Hour

Poetry by | January 5, 2014

Remember when dusk glow danced
Laying a final warmth upon polished floors
Of a forgotten place we claimed under our sigil
Hidden among groves of fertile promises
Here are our secrets and stories written and sealed
Today I sneaked out of classes and found you there
Waiting with those Moorish eyes
Golden specks lit up your hair, your smile
I was used finding you busy
But beneath crimson and lilac clouds
Your gaze fixed on me
Your embrace didn’t hold back its silence
Hold me close here in the setting sun
Whisper your heart’s cry
Before sparrows sing of tears
Before goodbyes come

—
Born in General Santos City, Monique is a Second Year student at UP Mindanao. She’s currently studying BS Biology.

Afloat

Poetry by | January 5, 2014

Seated near the life-size poster of a man promulgating a clothing brand
Unfamiliar voices clouded the girl’s mind
She sits there, nonchalantly
Her eyes wandering
Observing people’s crooked smiles and arched eyebrows
Her senses falter, she loses track of time
Books piled up to her nose
Papers scattered in front of her, like stars seen when the sky is clear
She reaches for her phone inside her dusty purple bag.
None. No message from anyone, not even from her sim card’s service line
She places the device on top of the pile of books by her side.
She takes her pen and her little notebook
Scribbles a few lines trudging, pounding inside her head
Eager to be caught in the pen’s charmed ink
Her thoughts, rushing, bumping like wild beasts
Her hands, her pen, cannot keep up with the impossible
Words ran frantically in her fragile domain
And then abruptly she stops, gasps for air, for life
Tears surface from the wells of her heart
She lets go of the pen and covers her face with bare hands
“I’ve had enough remembering for the day.”
She reaches for her pen, not to write a line or two
“Now, back to work.” She whispers to herself
As she picks another test paper to look through
—
Sums is currently a 3rd year student at Xavier University – Ateneo de Cagayan