Nonfiction by Tyron Keith Maru Varias Sabal | August 28, 2011
“Spirals and spiraling, lead us to meaning. This is the poetic process.”
What is poetry? Technically, it can be defined as the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts. To the poet who is engaged in the poetic process and wishes to define his art, not much is said by this definition. To the uninitiated, a mere reader (literally, without the attempt at an analysis) of poetry, this would suffice.
Nonfiction by Edgar Bacong | July 17, 2011
Mapagkandili sa akin ang Daang Boulevard, ang lunan ng aking kamusmusan, kahit na sabihing pugad ito ng mga lumpen at maralitang tagalunsod. Kaya sa taunang pag-uwi ko ng Dabaw upang bisitahin ang mga mahal ko sa buhay, ay di ko ito nakakaligtaang dalawin tulad ng pagdalaw ko sa matatalik kong mga kaibigan. Sa muli kong pangungumusta sa kanyang mga iskinita ay nakakatawag-pansin ang mga pisikal na pagbabagong nagaganap dito. Wala na ang munting kapilya ng Inang Laging Saklolo sa dati nitong kinatatayuan, na naging saksi sa kalikutan ko at sampu ng aking mga kababata tuwing Flores de Mayo at kapistahan nito. Ang mga simpleng bahay na gawa sa kahoy kundi man iginupo nang kabulukan ay hinalinhan na ng mga konkretong gusali. Naglaho na rin ang mga hahapay-hapay na tulay na umuugnay sa mga kabahayan sa looban. Maging ang kaisa-isang malapad at lubak-lubak na kalsada na nagsilbing palaruan ng mga batang tagaroon ay pinakinis na ng aspalto at pinakitid ng pagbabago. Pakiwari ko tuloy lahat ng palatandaan ng aking kabataan ay sabay na naparam nang ako’y mangibangbayan. Inaamin kong ikinakikirot ito ng aking puso. Lalo na nang mapansin kong wala na ni isa mang laro namin noon gaya ng taguan, tumbang-preso, syatong, piko, sungka at marami pang iba ang nanatili sa hanay ng mga bagong sibol.
Nonfiction by Karlo Antonio David | July 10, 2011
It was an April Fools’ Day when I found out that I was accepted as a fellow to the 11th IYAS Creative Writing Workshop, and therefore, though I was jubilant, I felt a pang of doubt. It could just be a nasty prank! Thankfully, the organizers would later dispel this suspicion when they called me to ask for my confirmation.
I first heard of IYAS from my kababayan Paul Gumanao, who had already been a fellow the year before. Iyas, which is Hiligaynon for “seed,” is one of the National Writers Workshops in the Philippines. It is held annually for five days in the Balay Kalinungan of the Saint La Salle University in Bacolod. Though it is funded by the NCCA, the workshop has always enjoyed the support of several La Salle schools and the continued patronage of the Palanca Hall of Fame awardee Dr. Elsa M. Coscolluela.
The 11th workshop was to run from the 25th to the 29th of April, with a welcoming dinner on the 24th and a tour around the city on the 30th.
Nonfiction by Cely Bacani Abad | May 8, 2011
When Gertrude phoned me that I was to say something nice about my sister-her mother-I protested, not because I had nothing nice to say, but because I had too many.
“No, no, Gertrude, please. Huwag mo akong bigyan ng trabaho na nakakanerbiyos, please lang. Pwede ba magpaseksi na lang ako?”
“Auntie,” Gertrude scolded. “Multi-award ka na sa kaseksihan. I want the guests to see your inner beauty.”
I insisted, “Ikaw na lang ang mag-display ng inner beauty na minana mo sa akin.”
Nonfiction by Jo Bacani Angeles | May 8, 2011
A warm surge of love and gratitude wells up from my being as I realize that these rejoicing and celebration are happening on my behalf. Never have I been the center of such attention. Never in my wild imaginings have I received tribute so salutary that I can hardly believe it is for me. Thank you, dear sisters mine! As you spoke about this wonderful character to this captive audience, revealing her wisdom, integrity, and goodness, I could not believe such an ideal creature could exist! Well, apparently, she does! And she is me! And I am she! I want to believe this. Really, I do! Let this be the magic moment when it all comes true!
Nonfiction by Ruel Soriano | April 24, 2011
Minsan naitatanong ko sa sarili ko at sa Diyos: May dapat ba akong ipagpasalamat sa buhay?
Teka, meron nga ba?
Kung sa bawat sikat ng araw sa umaga, ang dapat mong isipin ay kung paano ka kikita at mabubuhay. Na kahit anong paghihirap mo ay parang pinaglalaruan ka lang ng tadhana ng buhay. Na sa lahat ng hirap na iyong dinanas mula pa pagkabata ay wala man lamang ginhawang natamo. Nagtagumpay ka nga, pero sobrang pagtitiis naman!
Nonfiction by Rowena Rose Lee | April 3, 2011
Working at home and basically having my back side literally glued to the computer chair for more than eighteen hours a day is not only detrimental to my sanity, but it also makes those little figures on the scale increase rapidly. Of course, the word “little” here is relative—and so is “sanity.” It has come to a point where I have to cheerily greet, praise loudly, and then apologize to the weighing scale before I get on it, hoping that the machine would reciprocate my effusive demeanor by shaving off one, two, or preferably 150 pounds. After weeks and weeks of doing this and getting nothing but an escalating series of results, I have come to one conclusion: the darn thing was broken.
Then my clothes started getting tight again. Certain pieces of undergarments began to pop at the seams. I was glad enough to blame the shrinkage on the new laundry soap I was using.
Nonfiction by Karlo Antonio David | March 27, 2011
When I first heard that Alfred ” Krip” Yuson would be attending the 3rd Taboan Writers Festival, I knew I just had to meet him. Undeniable as this urge may have been, it was also unexplainable and that made it rather awkward. I needed an excuse for going up to him. And then it came: Mr. Cimafranca, our Creative Writing teacher told us that our midterm examination would be to “attach” ourselves to one of the Delegates in the Festival and write about him or her.
I first encountered the Krip Yuson brand when I read a haiku he wrote that appeared in our Literature book. I was in first year college, and though I had been writing earlier than that, that was my first exposure to the Philippine literary scene. The haiku went:
Is Galman the one?
or are there two, maybe three?
each day, brief to grief.
That haiku fascinated me even though I didn’t understand it. When I dug into its background, I couldn’t help reading about the poet as well.
Continue reading Because Krip Yuson Is Just Too Cool To Approach