Dear John, Part 2

Fiction by | October 12, 2014

continued from part 1

I love my mother very much. She is the only person who accept me as a gay. My brothers especially Ricky is shy to other people that I am a gay. My sisters and father is not angry to me but they do not care me. They do not make me part of their life. When my father is still living he do not talk to me. When only him and me is in one place, for example in the sala, he go to the kitchen or to outside the house to his fighting cocks. Only my mother kiss me and embrace me when she is still not a stroke victim. But sometimes I hate her, I blame her. This is her mistake. I become a gay because she dress me like a girl when I was small. She give birth to two girls and three boys straight before she give birth to me. When I go out, my two sisters are already big and my mother miss playing to a little baby girl so she always dress me with skirt and then she sing to me and said to me to do fashion show in our sala. So I want to be Miss Universe when I grow up.

Continue reading Dear John, Part 2

The Invitation in my Garden 

Poetry by | October 12, 2014

In my garden
you can wander freely
pick any fruit
you crave and envy
be not afraid of being
bare and naked
thoughts and body.


Orlando Sayman is an A.B. Literature graduate from AdDu. He is one of the new Milas at F. Bangoy National High School. He misses looking at fireflies.

Coffee Break

Poetry by | October 12, 2014

Cut all the ties with the world —
For all its sound and fury.

Sit and find the moment’s balance
Amid lifeless things in motion.

Let your soul glow from the depth
Of your weariness and anxiety.

Keep that newly purchased novel
Or put off those earphones, dear child.

There is no need of escape all the time.
Be still and free your vision to the distance.

Wander above the chaotic and banal.
Let the sound between your gentle lips

And the brim of that paper cup rule over —
To resonate joy and tranquility to the mind.

A little bitter, a little sweet, and utterly warm —
Sip, and sip over, the absurdities of life.


Adonis Enricuso is a university instructor from Duminag, Zamboanga del Sur. He was a fellow of the 29th Cornelio Faigao Workshop. If not taking part in the drama of life, he dreams night and day.

Fellows of the 2014 Davao Writers Workshop

Events by | October 7, 2014

The Davao Writers Guild is pleased to announce the fellows of the 2014 Davao Writers Workshop.

Fiction
Andrea Isabelle Mejos (Davao)
Resty Bhoy B. Partoza (Davao)
Arjay N. Viray (Davao)
Reil Benedict S. Obinque (Davao)
Mark Lester Celozar (Davao)
Abigail James (CdO)

Creative Nonfiction
Jecia Anne Opiana (Davao)

Drama
Cayetano D. Polancos, Jr. (Davao)

Poetry
Vel Marie Santillan (CdO)
Hanna Regine Valencerina (Davao)
Michael Jude Tumamac (GenSan)
Neil Cervantes (Tagum)
Ria Valdez (Davao)
Clariza Morta Burdeos (Butuan)

The panelists this year are Dr. Macario D. Tiu, Jhoanna Lynn Cruz, Nino Soria de Veyra, John Bengan, Nikki Gomez, and special guest writer Daryll Delgado. Workshop director is Edmond Julian de la Cerna, assisted by Dom Cimafranca.

The 2014 Davao Writers Workshop is organized by the Davao Writers Guild in cooperation with the National Commission for Culture & the Arts and UP Mindanao, and will be held at Lispher Inn, Matina, Davao City, from October 27 to 31, 2014.

The workshop sessions are open to those interested to listen in and meet the writers.

Dear John, Part 1

Fiction by | October 5, 2014

For all of my life I want to be a girl. But not this way. Not in my birth certificate. Because of this mistake my trip to New Zealand is delay. We cannot married. But don’t worry. I follow up my papers always. Please wait for a little. We will soon be together. We will live happy ever after.

I’m sorry you spend too much money for me already. I don’t know that going abroad is very expensive and very meticulous. I know you are much money. Your pension is large and one dollar there in your country is thirty-six pesos here in my country. But I’m still shy to you. You shoulder all the expenses. Last year you even go here in the Philippines to see me because it is required, because your embassy said I’m not your partner because we only chat in the internet and we never meet personal. But after you go here and you go back to New Zealand…your embassy said to you again it’s not OK, I still cannot get a partner visa, visitor visa only.

Continue reading Dear John, Part 1

Marcotting

Poetry by | October 5, 2014

The untrained see
absurdity.
For the novice –
Secrets!
But he, he knows
how it feels, perhaps,
as he cuts ’round

limb and body.
Bleeding earth blood,
both remain
silent, pretending
blood is infinite,
the wound – fiction.
He covers it with earth.

He knows which
part of the limb
or body to wound.
Where precisely?
Near the heart,
where life
springs eternal.

The reason?
It’s marcotting, he says,
wounds are needed
to grow roots,
new ones,
which we wound again,
to grow more roots.

Cheese Sticks Boy

Poetry by | October 5, 2014

With his tactics
for surprise,
he jolted our nerves,
despite the glass between us
as he flashed
a face of full sunlight,
like a jack-in-the-box
with visage, brown
freshly painted
red blush, circled
on cheeks
which are dry
riverbed of tears,
which are wet
once the box of day
comes to a close:
just to sell sticks
wrapped in see-through
gold.


Amado Mahds Guinto, Jr teaches at the English Department in MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology, Iligan City. He is a fellow in the 21st Iligan National Writers Workshop. Aside from writing, he also dances and choreographs.