Category: Poetry

Pakig-unong ug Pag-ampo sa Kasubo

Poetry by | December 19, 2022

Unong ug pangaliya sa kasubo

         sa kamatayon sa mahigugmaong kadugo

         sa gisalikway ug giluibang putling gugma

         sa gilipotang tiunayng higala

         sa pagkawagtang sa gihagoang patigayon

         sa pagpapas sa maalagarong pagpanilbi

         sa pagdagsa sa makapahisalaag nga mga kabag-ohan

Ang kalangitan ug kawanangan

         nalukop sa kangitngit

         kay gitabilan sa dagtomg dag-om

         nga nagpabunok og galusok nga mga luha

         aron mobasbas ug mobanlas sa pagkaylap

         sa kahulaw ug kahaw-ang nga kahimtang

         sa mga nadutlang lumulupyo sa kalibotan

Ang hanging galaposlapos sa paglabay-suroy

         nagbiyobiyo sa paghaguros ug paghampas

         aron abugon [tayhopan] ang malas ug pasutuyon ang mga tunglo

         ug panghimaraot samtang di makaturok ug makagamot

         sa mga kahiladman ug kasingkasing sa mga nawad-an ug nasamdan

         ug hinuon sila mahulipan sa kahupayan ug paglaom

         ipanghupaw ang pag-ampo nga mopatigbabaw ang kaayohan.

September 22, 2022

Elvi is a poet and Visual artist based in Davao City. He holds a Bachelor’s  degree in Philosophy, a masters degree in Theology, major in Pastoral Ministry both from Ateneo de Davao University.

Kamingaw

Poetry by | December 19, 2022

Pag ang kamingaw mamukaw

Usahay makatugaw

Kahidlaw mapatumaw

Makapaalingasa kay di matagbaw

Makapatukaw ug makapulaw

Mahasol kag pangitag lingaw

Apan anaa pod kini gasa ug gahom

Maayong tubayan, sination ug dawaton

Kay makapugwat sa pagdumdom

Makadasig paghanduraw ug paghandom

Sa pinili ug ginahambin sa kahiladman

Namingawan, gikawilihan, di makalimtan.

 

Nobyembre 11, 2022

 

*** 

Elvi is a poet and Visual artist based in Davao City. He holds a Bachelor’s  degree in Philosophy, a masters degree in Theology, major in Pastoral Ministry both from Ateneo de Davao University.

Deliryo

Poetry by | December 19, 2022

Ang puti, ingnong ito, Galamhan kini

Nga nagasanting sa Kaalindanga;

Dughan daw sa gilimisan: Blangko.

Tanan hanap, lubog.

Deliryo sa kalag, karangot sa tutunlan

Apan sa Kaguton ba? Sa kauhaw ba?

HUlaw! Sa  tanlag? Nihit! Sa kalinaw?

Apan dile ba ang Katagbaw

Gipuyos na man sa kasing -kasing?

Apan ang Sukna: Hain?

Ania ra: nagalumlom diay ning Kahiladman!

Karon pa akosa Kaliban. Labaw gyog Kon

Sayop nga tinuyuan –

Kapalit  diay  sa subasko sa tanlag.

( Tawo nga nasaag sa dumalayong, dalan sa unahan?)

Deliryo! Mao diay kni: Ang puti, ingnong itom;

Ang kahayag tutokan nga lubos kangitngiit:

Apan unsa man diay  bulok nlng mga puthawng rehas?

Hain man lawaka ako karon sa kinabuhi?

Hanap na man god

Ag tanan. Nagkalayo. Nagkalayo

 

***

Si Marcelo Arañas Geocallo, tigtakoban usahay sa mga dagangalang Geronimo A. Molave, Juanario Diez Saez, Ram G. Sañara  ug uban pa. Usa ka magsusugilanon, magbabalak, maggugumalaysay ug nobelista sa pinulonganag Binisayang Sugbuanon. Natawo Enero, 1940 sa San Fernando Sugbo apan sayong mitapon sa Linamon, Davao del Norte. Ubay-ubay ang mga pasidungog ang iyang nadawat sa natad sa panuwat. Sa basahong “A survey and Bio-Bibliography” ni Resil B. Mojares, si Geocallo usa sa nahiapil sa nahisgotang kaping gatos ka importanteng Sugboanong magsusulat. Kining iyang balak unang napatik sa Bisaya Magazine, tuig 1967. (Source: https://ceb.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcelo_A._Geocallo)

Swaki

Poetry by | November 28, 2022

Excited na ako maging abo.
Pag huyupan ako ni God
Maka abot ako sa langit
Pag mag aksyon ulan
Suyupin ako ng ulap
Ibuhos ako sa dagat
Malunod ako sa balas
Kainin ng swaki
Ang swaki harbisin ng Badjao
Ibenta sa foreigner
Masarapan siya mag supsup
Masarapan siya mag higop
mag bili pa siya ng madami
Ubusin niya lahat ng Swaki
Mag bring home pa siya
Ipansak sa icebox niya
pauwi sa Iceland
sa pinsan niya si Bjork
Sa wakas! ma hug ko na si Bjork.

Gi panganak si Gerald Castillo Galindez aka G!K noong nabungkag ang Berlin Wall at nabuo ang Eraserheads. Ang Klaro na Masyado: Poems in Kabacan and Tacurong Tagalog, 2020, Kasingkasing Press ang pinaka una niyang koleksyon ng mga tula at ang From Kabacan-Buluan-Tacurong, With Love, 2021, Bigkas Pilipinas Entertainment ang una niyang Spoken Word EP. Kasama ang tulang  “Swaki” sa bago niyang zine na may pamagat na Trench Lights and Other Poems.

 

Unmoored

Poetry by | November 28, 2022

Unmoored,
our old friend’s boat
floated away from port
with us fondly bidding goodbye,
many with a teary eye.
Then I was surprised
to notice
that our friends
on the wharf
waving their goodbyes
seemed to be floating away.
And I realized
my own little boat
was unmoored too.
The goodbyes
were for me also.
And so were the tears.

Eric SB Libre is a freelance consultant and writer based in Digos City. Some of his poems and stories can be read in Bisaya Magazine and Minda News.

Burying myself

Poetry by | November 21, 2022

There are certain things that evince what cannot be hidden
from me by consciousness. After death, will my home be a casket
or an urn or the earth itself decaying me in an unknown
arid land? Nearby, will there also be an agoho tree? Will there be signs
of cloudiness in the morning in between heat and rain? Or
will they come together – moisture collecting dust from the ground
of me, that is me, or forgets to be me, or not anymore me –
and clothe tree bristles, thickening the shadow surfacing what
is me? Or will it survive time – me – and simply breed soil that breed
roots that breed life that breed breath? In the dream,
I am the soil that is carved out by rusty backhoes in an island
off a sleepless American city, and in cycles, I blanket plastic bags of
wrapped bodies. There were two Henries, an Anita, another
Jane. Next year, they will be the same, and another year after, they
will still be the same. They wait until everyone aboveground
continues to live, and they forget their names. They unbecome them,
and I unmake me. I am the soil that is them that is me –
Consciousness, when will I dream about anything but this?

This poem first appeared in Quarterly Literary Review Singapore (QLRS) Vol. 20 No. 3 Jul 2021.  Ian Salvaña writes from Cateel, his hometown in Mindanao, and works for an international human rights organization based in Bangkok. He has an MA in Political Science at Central European University, Budapest, and Vienna, and sometimes teaches at Ateneo de Davao University. 

More words about heart disease and disappearing

Poetry by | November 21, 2022

We are wading  into the sea again, only me
                                             and my father, his eyes
                                             fixed to the water,
                                             always belonged somewhere else,
                                                                         somewhere far
                                                                               and deep     and secret
                                like the long-ago mornings of looking at him looking
                                              at himself moving
                                in a memory,    in a  feigned future
                                caught in his coffee cup, in the tinkle,
                                                                                                       in the stir.
                He sinks again. I wade       slowly, into the sea-stir
                                               the teaspoon tinkle tricking
                                                  me into the forming whirl-
pool of the Alpine milk he used to buy for me from the Doughboy bakeshop at San Pedro Street
                                                                        on my carsick Sundays
                                                                                     the late-to-church stomachaches.
                                                I drink the memory in
                                                                 and find the milk warm
                                                                 the milk has always been warm enough,

                                                                                                and I’ve been forgetting.

This poem is  part of the poetry collection, “Wild Fire” published by the Road Map Series in 2019. Melona was a fellow for poetry in the 2012 Davao Writers Workshop. She’s currently a lecturer in the Creative Writing Program of the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

When the World offers to paint you naked

Poetry by | November 21, 2022

Open your body. Do not fold anything.
Maybe your legs—just a little bit—
you still deserve to keep secrets
even if you felt like your skin
was never private. Make your legs longer
in an attempt to jump.
The world says they’ll paint you
but you know no man has ever stared at you
without wanting a pursed smile or stiff nod in return.
Bend your knee—you’ll jump farther, walk faster
From them who would say hey, you should learn
how to take a compliment—but never bend
it to anyone. Stretch your torso, show how a stomach
does not have to be flat for somebody to rest
their head on it. Arch your back,
draw your shoulders behind as if they were wings.
You are a pigeon awaiting flight. Puff your chest out.
Let the mounds of your breasts absorb light
from the sky until it shines enough
for stares to bounce off it. Elongate your neck,
make your neck muscles bulge—
your neck is not a cage, free your voice.
And as the world paints you, curve your lips into a smile
that pierces through the canvas.
Make them wonder what your smile means
and what your mouth says. Let it haunt them
until they sleep, until the last drop
of paint dries from their bristles.
They have painted you bare, yet
you are not naked. You cannot be contained
in someone else’s piece.

This poem is originally published under the collection “Sum of Her Parts” published by the Road map Series.

Ria Valdez teaches in the Department of Humanities in UP Mindanao.