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
this little origami life
lies on the floor with torn wings
what happened to days meant only
for kissing daisies while standing on pointed toes
was it in my absorption in the bright colors
that time seemed to have stopped and jumped simultaneously?
perhaps i should start counting and recounting petals
the way others do with sheep to dream
isn’t it what you wanted anyway
a math i can never understand
where you and i amount to a ripening womb
whose fruit is neither yours nor mine
sweet nectar ignorant of parched throats of those
whose heads are hanging and have browned–
from thirst of love and truth and life;
innocent and uncorrupted by all that we are
Your flesh is sweet
and tender
it melts
on my tongue
a raincloud on
a sunny day
consumed
by a hungry blue-ness
you inhale water
as i do air
and speak in bubbles
that i drown
in my language
to touch your words,
which i will never know.
My catch for the day
fresh from the lake
tomorrow again
another you.