Poetry by Tita Lacambra Ayala | February 24, 2008
Now who will sustain the
heartbeat of the song
So intent you were at the drums
You looked like you were a master cook head down
preparing delicacies for delicate guests.
When they cut off the lid of his skull
there his brain was throbbing out a
farewell song
Continue reading Requiem for a Drummer Boy
Poetry by Jeff Javier | February 17, 2008
(After Cecille Laverne dela Cruz)
Two parallel lines, fated never to meet in a two dimensional plane.
If you place line A
to compliment line B,
you’ll end up with a telephone pole.
Santa Claus flies to all children,
from North to South, good and bad to give
candies and charcoals – all around the magnetic pole.
If you’ll allow me,
let me talk you into a vision
where the world melts like chocolate
and every day will become Christmas day. Things
will fly that every concept is nothing but good and good.
I’ll even let you come to play in Santa’s factory.
Come, then.
I’ll talk my tongue onto your pole.
Poetry by Janice Joy Chiongson | February 10, 2008
e.e. cummings said
since feelings are first
we really shouldn’t bother with the syntax of things
allow my verbs to crash and spin
let my nouns collide with other nouns
allow my modifiers to dangle and get misplaced
let my words multiply and fly
allow my sentences to fall and rise
towards you
into you
but
we really shouldn’t bother with the syntax of things
since feelings are first
e.e. cummings said
Poetry by Jeneen Garcia | February 10, 2008
They both bear the burden of the fruit.
Each day they toil in this marketplace
steaming in the morning heat, here
where there are too many ways to know
good and evil, life and death.
His strong back strains under the heavy basket,
her arms keep steady as she eases the weight.
It does not matter now whose wrong it was,
why each drop of sweetness comes from pain.
Grace still fills the smallest gestures of being.
Poetry by Orlando Sayman Jr. | February 3, 2008
they shun him just because
his hair is golden like the sun
skin painted with bright hues
like the sky scent reminiscent
of the earth’s elements
they close their ears on his songs
the silent and sad sea melodies
his music a sound of the breeze
sweeping through deaf streets
each drumbeat a heavy knock
on a door swiftly shut behind him
Continue reading Badjao
Poetry by Allen Samsuya | February 3, 2008
I wish love were just like instant noodles –
that it came with its flavor written on its pack—
sweet or spicy,
nothing too strange for the tongue;
that it came with instructions:
Cook in briskly boiling water for three minutes.
Mix special seasoning of secrets and soy sauce into a paste.
Drain noodles of unnecessary water. Mix well with the prepared paste.
ENJOY.
That it could be consumed,
whether a little half- or over- cooked,
‘til hunger is no more;
that it would warn
every starving boy and girl
when it will expire.
Poetry by Lyda May Sual | January 27, 2008
Tonight’s no night for stories and poems
The moon’s fair, witches are out leaping
from eaves to twigs
I paced about; heard them sing
“Come catch the moon about to fall.”
Hot air filtering through the
window screen eddies
around me as I sit with you
sometimes I expect to see a little smoke
or even an angry fire–feel compelled to
toss whatever object to feed the flames.
Continue reading On a Day Like This