City Cloud

Poetry by | November 6, 2023

Plop, splodge, pump;
Water floods out,
Dark, blue, cold,
The city mutters out,
Man and Child and Woman abound,
All making the trip till sundown;
Walk, Step, Skip;
My sweat pours out.
Bulb, glow, streak;
Refracts the puddles around,
For it is raining,
In Davao’s downtown.


Benjamin Thursday R. Rosaupan is studying AB English at Ateneo de Davao University. He spent almost a decade of his life in Saudi Arabia. He had an interest in English at a very young age, which has continued to his adulthood. He is interested in art, music, and the pursuit of the Eternal Being.

Alang kay Didap

Poetry by | November 6, 2023

Adunay bay tukmang pulong
alang sa kamingaw
ning dughana
nga kita karon
nag-uban pa,
apan sunod adlaw
ikaw mulakaw na

Ug uban sa paglisan mo
handumon ko
ang tanan tang kaagi

Sa kandilaon
mong mga tudlo
nga misudlay sa akong
kulot nga buhok
nga matod mo
paspas ang tubo
kon laki ang mukampa
dala simhot
apan kay ikaw man
maong katunga ra gayud

Sa tingog mong
buntag sayo manampit
sa akong ngalan
takna nga ikaw tabuon
ko og halok sa tuo
mong aping

Sa katawa mong lagtik
nga makatakod
bisan kinsa o bisan kanus-a
inig magvolleyball man,
praktis sa banda,
jam sa kanta ni Moira,
pamainit og sikwate,
plano-plano sa eskwelahan
ug sa atung paingnan

Sa mata mong
puno sa paglaum
sa ngisi mong tahom
sa gininhawa mong lawom
sa akong kiliran samtang
gidamgo mo ang
imung paglisan

Dap, labaw sa kamingaw ko
karon ug sa tanang panahon
giampo kong makita mo
ang tinud-anay nga
kagawasan ug kalipay
niini imung pagbiya

Sa hinaot
bisan asa man kita
dal-on sa kapalaran
niining kalibutana
ug kon itugot
kita magkita pa
sa makausa
tabuon ta ang usa’g usa
sa hugot nga kagus,
matam-is nga ngisi ug halok
sama sa atung
gisaluhan karong taknaa

Sa pagkakaron
hubaron ko
ang tukmang pulong
alang sa kamingaw
nga gibati ko
maskin imung pagbiya
sa wala pa diha.


Loraine Jo calls Talisayan, Misamis Oriental her new home. She finds solace watching fishermen set on their sails along its endless shoreline. She teaches at a public high school in this humble municipality.

How Does One Write

Poetry by | November 6, 2023

for someone
who suddenly died—

when the midsentence
is punctuated

with perpetual ellipses

disguised
in the color of paper

you’ll abandon
with a word that hangs
and longs for a close?

How does one continue
to foretell somebody’s thought

or inkling

from a body that no longer moves—
an unbending shape
stripped off of its narratives
since its eyes have finally closed?


Arvin Ebdalin Narvaza is a poetry writer hailing from Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines. Poetry has always been the compass of his creative journey, guiding him through the vast landscapes of emotions, thoughts, and experiences. With great passion and dedication, he has honed his craft and he strives to share his voice with a wider audience. He published some of his poems at Dagmay, Bisaya Magasin (Manila Bulletin), and Habi Literary Folio. Currently, he is studying for his Ph.D. at Ateneo de Davao University.

Circle Over Another

Poetry by | November 6, 2023

stamped randomly
against the grain
of the wooden table—

each a decade’s worth
of stories summarized
to an hour

of infrequent sipping
and restless hands
that lift and set

the dewing cups
on a slightly newer
place.

Two.

Four.

Five circles.

Outlining where
our stories move.

The next turn
would be yours,
on the sixth

narrative
we punctuate with
silence and stares

as if culling
some things worthwhile
from the hazy past

written on the span
between your eyes.


Arvin Ebdalin Narvaza is a poetry writer hailing from Cagayan de Oro City, Philippines. Poetry has always been the compass of his creative journey, guiding him through the vast landscapes of emotions, thoughts, and experiences. With great passion and dedication, he has honed his craft and he strives to share his voice with a wider audience. He published some of his poems at Dagmay, Bisaya Magasin (Manila Bulletin), and Habi Literary Folio. Currently, he is studying for his Ph.D. at Ateneo de Davao University.

Pagtuo

Poetry by | October 16, 2023

Miyungyong
sa akong buhok
ang matag lusok
sa tubig,
midagayday

paingon sa panit:
matag kuskos og sabon,
mamugna sab
ang mga bula
nga unya matangtang

uban sa mga hugawng
namilit sa lawas.
Kaniadto, gitudlo-an
ko sa akong amahan
nga mag-ampo

una maligo
ug dihadiha,
ang katugnaw
miangkon kanako,
ako ug ang tubig,

nahimong usa.


Ivan Ridge Arbizo is pursuing an English Language Studies (ELS) degree at Holy Cross of Davao College.

Ode to the Uterus (and those who own them)

Poetry by | August 7, 2023

My uterus is raging, ready to burst
in red. The pain runs through
my hips, my thighs, my legs
leaving me in fetal position
alone to clutch the smallness
of my stomach that clenches in ache.
It is angry, it demands, it throbs like
a beating heart—alive and enduring.
I persist like a banged-up drum
and dare to brave the torment that tries
to beat me down.

I will not succumb
nor will I surrender. I am persevering and
resisting like the uterus in anger.


Daryll Faye Gayatin is from Isulan, Sultan Kudarat. She is a BA English (Creative Writing) student at the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

one big wash

Poetry by | July 31, 2023

The machine brought to life by a soft ping,
You stare as your clothes begin to tumble
Into an array of vibrant hues spinning,
Water bubbling white you start to mumble
Nothing. No thing came to mind.
The soap was dwindling and you had no thoughts.
That frightened you, sitting down resigned
With nothing on your mind, just idle of sorts.

And yet as the machine spiraled into
Impossible speed, you laid back reclined.
The bubbles start to disappear and you
Stayed hypnotized by accelerated
Spinning garments. You’re okay with nothing.
And the machine sings back its final song.


Fatima Herizza D. Edding studies BA English (Creative Writing) at the University of the Philippines Mindanao in Davao City. She prefers to be called Lady, her nickname since birth. She is from Zamboanga City, Zamboanga del Sur.

One Bed Apart

Poetry by | July 31, 2023

Mama and Papa now sleep in different
beds. “Your father snores,” Mama said.

Papa has been drinking a lot of sour juice
lately, his breath stinks when he tries to talk

to me. “If Mama and Papa have to live in
different houses, who would you live with?”

Papa asked before he fell asleep on the couch,
waiting for Mama to come home. As soon as

Mama got home, she told me to go to my room
and play with Chippy, the stuffed toy that they got me

for my seventh birthday. Mama interrupted
my little tea party when she knocked

on my door. “Papa snores louder now,
anak,” she said. Then she went outside the house

and went inside the green car that looked
a lot like my Ninong’s—he was Papa’s kumpare,

the one that he used to drink sour juice with.
I have never heard of Mama since then.


Reggie is taking up a Bachelor of Arts in English (Creative Writing) at the University of the Philippines Mindanao. She is a completer of the Special Program in Journalism and a graduate of the Humanities and Social Sciences of the Davao City National High School.