Month: October 2022

Autumnal Passings

Poetry by | October 31, 2022

october is insanity—
i’m so scared of insanity.
it’s the rotting of vegetables in the yard left to be overriped
feasted by the pests, every second is a thousand bites;
its likeness comparable to a deer striding the woods with an open wound,
its flesh delighting the flies, clothed in maggots and the sentimental crude.
i find it strange and similar to my state,
undead yet rotting.

november is the decline—
the season slowly declining.
the way the leaves leave the branches in the morning
and by afternoon they’re just dead leaves and more than nothing.
on the ground they lay and stepped onto by people
ignored as they always were but existed in time’s ripples.
it’s so cruel to know their fate,
a historical imprint without a name.

the autumnal atmosphere creeping in the spaces between my hair,
slowly and frighteningly pulling them out for survival.

Lexi Eve L. Bacala is in her first year of studies in Medical Laboratory Science.

Morning Prayer

Poetry by | October 31, 2022

You don’t wake up in the morning
and pray
for a beautiful day

You clutch the phone under your pillow,
press your fingerprint
on the tempered screen

Should you feel guilty
for liking a friend’s picture
without muttering a single word of praise

You feel blessed already
with 26 laughs
for sharing a meme

Sometimes you feel sorry
that you watch more reels
than visit a Gospel page

You toggle from app to app
like an expert lover
leaving a Mark in each one

On scrolling up you come across
a post
that says:

“Besides that, they learn to be idlers,
going from house to house,
and not only idlers, but also gossips and busybodies…”

For several seconds you press your finger
on the screen
and click Save to phone.

Sunshine C. Angcos owns PrintWaves Davao Book Publishing, a small printing and publishing business which caters for self-published writers.

Ilawom sa Taytayan

Poetry by | October 31, 2022

Sa ilawom sa tulay
Naa didtuy mga balay-balay
Naghuot ning dughan ko
Paglantaw kos mga tao

Hugaw nga palibot
Mga iso wa nay saplot
Basura diri, basura didto
Grabi hugaw pay imo

“Te gai kog piso, naghilak akong manghud oh”
Asa imong mama gang?
Ila raman mong gipasagdaan.
Namasura te para naa mi kan-on
Pagtungtong sa kangitngiton.

Pagkasakitay ning gibati ko
Luha ko ga uros-uros na pag-ayo
Igo rako diri milabay
Mga utaw grabi pa diay sa akoag pagsulay

Nanawagan kos mga politika
Tagai tawn ninyug balay ning mga tawhana
Kuyaw kaayo mog plataporma
Igo ra gayod mos storya.

“Kung ako mudaog, ang mga way balay
Dili gayud magmahay”
Sa dihang pila na katuig ang milabay
Igo ra tawn mo nagpahayahay.

Ginoo ko tabangi kog tuktok sa ilang mga kasingkasing,
Na lamdagan ang ilang mga pangutok
Nga mubuhat og maayo ilang mga kamot
Dili lang sigeg pangurakot.

Naglurat ra ning mata ko
Usa raman sad ko ka ultimo nga tawo
Walay maambag, igo ras pagpaabot
Ning pulongang makaingon nalang kog ambot.

Ambot og kanus a pa
Mahatagan og hustisya,
Kapobrehon muhupas na
Pilipinas magmata ka.

Angela Creman Watts is from Lupon, Davao Oriental. She is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University – San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Science in Business Administration.

Dahon ug Ulan

Poetry by | October 31, 2022

Sama sa dahon
nga way kalibutan
asa kini dad-on
sa lambos sa hangin.

Sama sa ulan
nga wa damha
ang pagtagak niini
sa lapok nga kayutaan.

Unta ikaw sab.
Unta isalig sab nimo
sa kalibutan
kung asa ka man
dad-on sa imong
kamatuoran.

Lubak-lubak o hapsay
man ang dalan.
Timan-i, wa kini gikagul-an
sa dahon ug ulan.

Krisha Rose Pasaol is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University-San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Elementary Education.

Dahon sa Paglaom

Poetry by | October 31, 2022

Sa tabunok o batuhon nga yuta ka gipugas
ug bisan usa ka lamang ka lugas,
paningkamoti nga sa umaabot nga puhon
molambo ikaw; nga susama sa katahom
sa adlaw nga likod sa kadulom atoa ikaw padayong magapahiyom.

Timan-i, nga dili sa tanang panahon
abunda kini og tubig nga puno’g gasa.
Adunay mga panahon nga imong
mahiagoman ang kainit sa latos
niining kapait ug kasakit.
Ang kasuko sa paghaguros sa hangin nga mosarasay sa imong pag-gitib ug molokumos sa imong
hamiling pamalandong ug paglaom.
Apan, panamilit; nga ikaw mapaboran sa umaabot nga katigayonan.

Usahay, gikinahanglan nga imong antuson ang gabagang kainit ilawom sa adlaw.
Imong iluom ug lakton ang dalan nga puno sa mga bato nga magapa-angin kanimo.
Ug imo usab saw-on ang tanang kasakit
sa ibabaw nga mogutay-gutay ug mo laya niinging dahon sa paglaom.

Maong gikinahanglan ang
imong dakong pagsalig.
Nga human niining tanan;
ikaw, magapadayong mogitib ug molambo.
Kay dili tanang gipugas sa yuta nga tabunok o batuhon ang nagpadayon.
Tungod sa una palang; ila nang gipatay ang liso sa paglaom niining pag-gitib.
Kay sa una palang napuno na sila sa kahadlok sa pagsugal sa daghang ‘kuntahay dili’.

—Gitib ug tubo kay ikaw liso nga gitaknang sigingon sa panahon aron molambo.

Jean C. Cano is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University-San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Elementary Education.

2040

Fiction by | October 24, 2022

“I can see it now,” she said, pointing excitedly to the sky.

Outside their house was a grassy area where they spread their blanket to sit on. The smell of the earthen fragrance from the dew on the grass and the chilly wind sent shivers down their skin that they made themselves smaller in their jackets.

It was 2:30 in the morning of June 24. Yesterday, they heard the news about the planetary alignment that was said to be a rare phenomenon and they purposely woke up early just to get the perfect spot for stargazing.

“Are you sure that’s it?” he asked hesitantly. “I think those are just dust in the heavens.”

“Well, I can’t blame you if you don’t have microscopic eyes like mine,” she teased as she stretched her hands to the horizon, as if trying to hold the universe in her hands.

“If you say wearing glasses means having microscopic eyes, then that’s a lie.”

She lowered her glasses and raised her eyebrow to confront his sarcasm. He didn’t mind her. Instead, he squinted his eyes, trying to zoom in on the tiniest details.

“I’m still not convinced.”

“You better be! I’ve been studying the planets for five years now.”

“Yeah right. In a formal education?”

“Hey!” she nudged him on his elbows. “That doesn’t mean all my self-learning is worth nothing.”

Continue reading 2040

There is a forest beneath my city

Poetry by | October 17, 2022

“There is a forest beneath my city…” Artwork generated by Midjourney AI.

There is a forest beneath my city
A hundred narra and acacia and mahogany
Hiding beneath the streets,
The buildings, the endless concrete.
There are stories of flowers
Blooming through the pavement,
piercing upwards in incrementing movement,
A process taking weeks, days or even hours
After they were buried.
Such soft things can’t deter a planted seed.
A tree is not a flower, yet their branches
Like veins adorned with dancing green petals
Also reach upward, towards the sun.
There is still a forest here, beneath my city
Poking through the avenues and empty lots.
Particles of greenery, before a time
Of noise and smoke and streets
piercing through
The utterly finite concrete.

Tara Yakob Montiflor is a graduate of BA English (cum laude) from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He was a Best Thesis Finalist for his poetry collection “The Streets will Not Embrace You.”