Maayong Paglakaw, Gali

Poetry by | March 11, 2024

Miabot na gayod ang tukmang panahon,
Mikunsad na sa yuta ang imong bituon.
Giagak na sa balod, sa gabon, ug sa hangin,
Ang kaliwat ni Gaun nga nangita sa kabilin.

Magbakho ang yuta sa imong pagbiya,
Apan sa imong pag-abot, ang langit magsadya.
Ang imong mga Buuy, naghulat na sa pantaw,
Didto sa Talugan kung diin may kalinaw.

Kalinaw kanimo, Anijun (07.20.2020)


Si Gine Mae L. Lagnason ay isang full-time faculty member ng Central Mindanao University. Natamo ang digring masterado sa Philippine Studies-Language, Culture, and Media sa Pamantasang De La Salle-Maynila taong 2019. Aktibo siyang nakikilahok sa iba’t ibang gawain at kumperensiyang nagtataguyod sa pagpapalawig ng diskurso sa wika, kultura, panitikan, midya, at edukasyon.

Raindrops falling on

Poetry by | March 4, 2024

Rusty metal sheets
Pitter-patter, run down
The banana leaves
Droplets group
On red cement floor
Shower, splatter, surge;
The television floats.

Clint Jovial Delima is currently a first-year BA English (Creative Writing) student at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

Burning in Davao

Poetry by | March 4, 2024

Bitter shade or none at all,
underneath the fiery ball,
I bite my teeth as I go outside,
praying to Christ I don’t burn
at the first touch of light.

Metal, cushion, all hot to the touch.
Like my coins as I count how much.
I wonder
how the driver has not melted away
in front of the glass.

I squint and see the metro-inferno
outside: the people walk as if it’s not a hell-hole.
How could one endure sunburn’s gash,
white light,
biting anyone in its path.

Then I remember
days of rain and cloud,
when I prayed it was
burning in Davao.

Benjamin Thursday R. Rosaupan is a student studying AB English in Ateneo de Davao University.


Poetry by | January 29, 2024

On a bed of grass,
I swallow this scene:
The sky is an ocean.
The clouds, sailing across
the canvas. I drown its white
spaces in shades of blue.

You called it skygazing,
a word that rolls on my tongue
like candy with a sour aftertaste.
I lift the canvas to the heavens
and watch it lodge
perfectly into place.

Then the scene changes:
The sun starts to retreat,
hours turn to minutes
turn to seconds turn to
an oil spill across the horizon,
fishes shimmering in moonlight.

I sink my brush again
and begin to repaint history.
My hands, cold in your absence.
My eyes follow the colors
rowing back and forth,
a lullaby calming the tides.

That night,
I look up once more
and echo your name,
hoping that the waves in the sky
would carry my voice
back to your shores.

Raphael Salise is a Creative Writing graduate from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He likes to read poems, short stories, and essays by Filipino writers as he someday aspires to become successful like them. Raph is currently taking up Law at Ateneo de Davao University.


Poetry by | January 22, 2024

last night, at 2 am,
i was going through my dressing table
looking for something to
soothe my shaved legs with
when i found a bottle
of your favorite talcum powder—
the one that smelled like jasmine, sakura, and freshly bathed babies.

how you loved patting it all over your face until it made you look like a clown,
how i knew that you were there
the moment its powdery floral scent
hit my nostrils
and you would greet me with the excited
smile of an elderly woman
convinced that her dead mother
is alive and waiting for her outside.

i remember the three small packs of biscuits that you innocently gave me as a “christmas gift” last year not knowing that it would be our last.

the foldable umbrellas you would take with you everywhere—rain or shine.

the piggyback rides on the way home from school back when i was four, just because you wanted to.

grief is a bottle of talcum powder long past its expiration date that still brings back memories of the scent it used to have.

i stare at the white plastic bottle. its twistable pink cap. the dark blue text against its white label.

and in the 2 am silence of my room,
i wait for God to tell me
that you’re up there laughing
with a basket of freshly
picked flowers in your hands,

that a life lost is not ashes to the ground.

but i hear nothing—and the enormity of it swallows me whole for the first time.

Gabrielle Marie Felio is a BS Psychology graduate who finds solace in embracing the rawness of life through literature.


Poetry by | January 22, 2024

Ang hunghong sa hangin
Ang lagubo sa daplin
Ang bagnos sa kahoy
Pahuway sa kahawoy

Ang tugnaw sa ngitngit
Ang init sa gunit
Ang hapyod sa awit
Paglaum sa hagit

Ang sidlak sa adlaw
Ang gabon sa bugnaw
Ang pahiyom sa bata
Kuhit sa pagmata

Mubangon, mutindog
Barugan ang tinuod
Isa ra ang kinabuhi
Daug, dili pildi

Ria Bianca R. Caangay is a faculty of Ateneo de Davao University. She is a graduate of Doctor of Philosophy in Education major in Applied Linguistics.

Gugmang Dili Magsaba

Poetry by | January 8, 2024

Naminhod na ang akong kamot
sa sige’g hinuktok diri sa bentana,
nag-atang nga modayag ang panganod
ug makit-an na pod tika.
Gapaminaw sa lusok-uwan nga
nagdulot sa atop diri sa amo,
murag tambol nga dili muhunong
hantod sa mabungol ko.
naghuwat ko nga makalakaw
ug muadto sa lugar kon asa ka,
Unta dili ra ko nimo makit-an
kay magpuyo ra ko diri sa lingkoranan.

Paminawon ra tika mustorya,
motutok ra sa imo pirmi,
ubanan ka bisan pag sa banyo
kon mangihi ug magpagwapa
kay kana may hangyo nimo.
Ug kinsa man pud ko para mudili?
Kon muhinay ang dagan sa oras
memoryahon pud nako ang tanan
sa imo, murag exam nga lisod kaayo,
kay basig ugma wala na ka
ug mawala na pud kining gibati
para sa imoha.

Nag-awas na sa kadaghan ang libro
nga akong nabasahan ug basahunon
aron malumos ko ug dili makadungog
sa kabanha sa kalibutan
ug kining kalibutan dili maghuwat
sa ato; dili maminaw ug mahilom.
Apan kining imong suwat ra jud
ang pagdait sa tanang saba,
maong panggaon na lang nako
kining dughan nga dili mahimutang
para nimo
kay sa imo ra ko kasinati og kalinaw
ug kalipay.

Dili jod dapat ni nimo mabatian
kining akong gitaguan nga gugma
kay basin mohawa ka
mabilin ko dinhi nga nag-inusara.

Kay dili man tanang gugma angay ipagawas,
mosuwat na lang pud ko para kanimo
niining kun-ot nga papel nga gigisi
gikan sa notbok nga humot pa’g NBS.
Ako kining itago sa pinakasuok
sa akong pitaka ug isuksok sa bolsa
aron dili mawagtang, makuha sa uban
sama sa akong gugma nga para sa imoha
ug saimoha ra.

Allaiza Gerodiaz is from Davao City. She is a BA English (Creative Writing) student in University of the Philippines Mindanao.


Poetry by | January 1, 2024

The sun paints the sky vermillion

like a ball of fire. What a kingdom

of hefty trunks and waters rippling

with every stroke of limbs. To whom

do I owe the pleasure of this escapism,

rank of moisture and earth? Scorched

by mountain heat, bathed in the cold.

What a long haul, this sky-high dream,

this hustling body, the ache within the

flesh breaking my soul in two, from the

morning till midnight. I am resurrected

out of dust and dirt, soft and fresh, like

the beating of a newborn’s heart. I am

free like footsteps on the loose. Like a

lake that can thrive endlessly, overflow,

or replenish. Should I live from now on,

aiming to top greater heights in my life?

Maybelline Bedolido is from Mati City, Davao Oriental. She studies BA English (Creative Writing) at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.