Poetry by Ana Maria Yugalca | January 20, 2008
Ali diri
ug hubui ko.
Unaha ug limas ang akong utok.
Kana gyud! Hinay-hinaya ug
limpyo ang hugaw nga sudlanan sa akong
kahambog.
Sunod, ihuho ang akong dughan.
Lugita ang gahi nga kasing-kasing
unya tuhuga’g lawum.
Continue reading Paghatag ug Ngalan / The Act of Naming
Poetry by Gregg Galgo | January 6, 2008
He whose hands
never grow weary
of moving on,
marches with cadence,
round and round —
as if that were its only purpose —
to race with time
and never look back.
Poetry by Gregg Galgo | January 6, 2008
It has always been
like this:
The birds are locked in cages
and fed;
a gold fish is placed
inside a cool aquarium;
and the big brown dog
is tied to a post,
standing on guard
while the master
attends to his other pets.
Continue reading Trapped but Free
Poetry by Yas Ocampo | December 2, 2007
I was the only one left
in the sala that night
you told me the noises
on the roof were
Minang’s hooves –
on nights like this one
she was searching
for children whose stomachs
she could, through
her tongue
suck whole.
Poetry by Peping Domingo | December 2, 2007
Yanda ngatan ya,
Dagidi ub-bing nga nabati
Ditoy?
Sadinno ngata nga lubungen,
Ti naipalpal – ladawan dan
Wenno tinay tayaban dan?
Gapu ngamin apo, ti di
Mailadawan nga rig-rigat,
Rugit ken buyok
Ditoy rabaw ken
Uneg ti daga
Poetry by Peping Domingo | November 25, 2007
Ang tibay mo pare ko.
Hindi mo man lang ininda
ang lupit ng mga daluyong
at ang bagsik ng mga bagyo.
Pilit mong inaaruga
at balak gisingin pa
ang isang kasaysayang
matagal nang sumanib
at humalo sa lupa.
Poetry by Melissa Peñaflor | November 18, 2007
On this afternoon
the sky glows a soft amber
and everything under it obliges
and takes on a gentler, kinder hue
–even the dry path that stretches before me
–the gray sandbar that has led me home all these years
sheds some of its harshness
and I tread it with the warm, easy feeling that
I belong,
On this afternoon
I belong
Poetry by Saquina Karla Guiam | October 28, 2007
Little girls, little girls
Dancing by the breakwater
Their faces bloated like balloons
With electric plugs tucked behind their ears
Their eyeballs starting to fall from their sockets
Smiles turn to sneers
Maggots crawl all over their skin
Skin and bones visible through the naked eye
Blood on their clothes never lie
And whenever people pass the breakwater by midnight
Little girls with decayed teeth, torn-out clothes, electric plugs by their side and holes in their chests
Will come out to play with you
And make you wish they were locked in their baggage.