Poetry by Najim Guinomla | September 14, 2008
A poem in Magindanaw and English
Di ka dan muna saguna ulan, di dan muna saguna
Su mga ulyang nengka na pakasamok sa kabagigitung ko.
Katawang ko na mapasang su kabedtago sa mawag a kanggiginawa
Way na anun mambu su kabeb-pangagi ko?
Kapakay ka kemisek sa matanog way na sakali bu
Angu edtanggit ka sa kawagan sa mga mawag a taw a madsumbak nengka.
Way na bangenin ko bo sa reka, di ka dan muna saguna
Ka bagimasaden ko pen i galebek ko
Endo so maystra ko na di yakunin pasangan.
Poetry by Agnes Miclat-Cacayan | September 14, 2008
afternoon sunlight
trysts with unexpected rain
blue bed bursts colors
dragonfly now rare
reminds me of the green fire
lurking in those eyes
crimson and golden
petals carpet my garden
sweep not struggle not
winding jutting through
window pane opening vine
curls to me its song
dirt waste filth the earth
takes all into her bosom
gives back fragrant blooms
Poetry by Arian Rey Tejano | August 31, 2008
(After Girl by Jamaica Kincaid)
Never wash your clothes. Let your older sister do it. You can only help fetching water from that well. Cook the food you like; not the food you want your boy friends to like. It’s good to walk barefoot and shirtless under the sun; the heat makes you tan. Never shave your pubic hair; shave only the beard and the mustache. Don’t pluck your eyebrows. You’re not joining a pageant. Never go to the market unless you look for a new pair of rubber shoes. But don’t look for Hello Kitty bags; you are no longer a kid. But I don’t like Hello Kitty. Never bring a basket unless you accompany your mother. Never let your younger sister ask you to do the dishes; scold her. You are older. Never sing Celine Dion’s songs before your friends. Don’t pout your lips. Pucker it if you are silent. Continue reading Boy
Poetry by Roselle Jimeno | August 24, 2008
kay ang gimingaw bungol
sa mga panghasi sa kawatan
inig abot sa kagab-ihon
para lungkabon ang kaldero
nga dukot ray nahibilin.
ang kawatan ibusdak-bagting-bu-ak
ang kaldero (nangliki ang salog).
pero ang gimingaw dili makamata
kay siya bungol–
nabungol sa iyang kaugalingong paghagok
hagok hagok hagok hagok
hagok
hagok hagok
hagok hagok hagok
hagok sa damgo, hagok
ngadto sa pikas kalibutan.
Poetry by Alfredo Compra Jr. | August 24, 2008
tanging ang kulisap lamang
ang nasisiyahan sa liwanag
na nagmumula sa lampara.
Habang ang bawat galaw
ng guhit ng relo
ay malakas na naririnig,
ang dilim naman ay nagbabanta
ng matinding kalungkutan.
Saglit kinuha ang isang kahon,
nangangapa man sa dilim
ay huling-huli pa rin.
Buti rin, tahimik na ang lampara,
wala na rin ang kanina’y
naglalarong insekto.
Binudbod ang puting bagay
mula sa supot
at sinimulan ang nakagawiang orasyon.
Lalong tumahimik ang silid,
iginala ang mga tirik na mata
tumigil na ang galaw ng orasan
namatay na rin ang liwanag
lumutang ang katawan
pataas nang pataas…
Saglit pa’y may napansing
mukhang nakaguhit sa may dingding,
nakahihilakbot ang hitsurang tumambad
na minsan sa panaginip ay hindi mawari,
ang bawat patak ng dugong umaagos mula
sa sugat ng kanyang mukha
ay nakatatakot.
Natagpuan ko ang aking
sariling umiiyak sa awa, sa takot, sa galit
Ikaw nga, Hesus!
ang simula, ang hangganan, ang katapusan
ilan pang tulad ko ang magiging ganito?
”Diyos ko, bakit mo ako pinabayaan?”
Poetry by Arian Rey Tejano | August 17, 2008
You may
not
see
the raft,
buoying
in the ocean,
but you
can feel
the waters,
rippling
on the edges
of your feet.
If your hands
suffer from
the coldness
of the breeze,
just cup
these waters
and it will
carry you
to a white distance,
where I am
lost,
sailing
against the wind
of my departure.
Poetry by Ariel Lalisan | August 17, 2008
She used to live in a shanty
with nipa roof
and bamboo walls,
and soil for a floor.
She used to look so shabby
in hand-sewn clothes
and an old pair of shoes,
which, all, her mother once wore.
She used to be poorer than the rats
she would run after
and smash with a broom.
But everything has changed
since she met Mr. Jones.
Now life for her (and the neighborhood)
suddenly became easy
as Mr. Jones—it seems—
is a man so generous and wealthy.
No trace of a poor lady can be seen
as she walks around the town
with a tall, white man.
The smile on her face beams with pride
as her head she holds high.
But never had she heard of the stories
passed on from mouth to mouth,
of what she might have done
to bring home a gold mine.
Poetry by Joie Mar Prias | August 10, 2008
Ang kabugnaw sa hangin
Mao mutunaw sa kamatyanong kainit
Ang ga-asong kape, ang akong habol
Ug ang paghandum kanimo
Mao ray nagpainit
niining gabhiona,
Ug sama sa mga patak sa ulan
Na daaw dagom nga nitusok-lalom
Sa kaugatan, imong gitusok
ang dughan ko sa imong
hait ug init na gugma.