Poetry by Ranyl Christian Gregorios | November 14, 2022
Roxas, sa tumoy aron hayahay
Quirino, bug-at ang dughan
Bankerohan, niduko na ang ulo
Sandawa, ginapugngan ang luha
Matina, nakatulog sa kakapoy
Bangkal, pula gihapon ang mata.
Ulas, gitan-aw kadali ang oras
Pag-Ibig, ngitngit na ang kalibutan
Catalunan, bugnaw na ang hangin
Meadows, giandam na ang kwarta
Relocation, sabay abot sa pambayad.
Mintal, ninaog ug gibiyaan akong gibati.
Ranyl Christian P. Gregorios is a graduate of BS Chemical Engineering at Ateneo de Davao University.
Poetry by Melona Mascarinas | November 14, 2022
Melona was a fellow for poetry in the 2012 Davao Writers Workshop. Her collection of poems, Wild Fire, was published by The Road Map Series in 2019. She’s currently a lecturer in the Creative Writing Program of the University of the Philippines Mindanao.
Poetry by Lexi Eve L. Bacala | October 31, 2022
october is insanity—
i’m so scared of insanity.
it’s the rotting of vegetables in the yard left to be overriped
feasted by the pests, every second is a thousand bites;
its likeness comparable to a deer striding the woods with an open wound,
its flesh delighting the flies, clothed in maggots and the sentimental crude.
i find it strange and similar to my state,
undead yet rotting.
november is the decline—
the season slowly declining.
the way the leaves leave the branches in the morning
and by afternoon they’re just dead leaves and more than nothing.
on the ground they lay and stepped onto by people
ignored as they always were but existed in time’s ripples.
it’s so cruel to know their fate,
a historical imprint without a name.
the autumnal atmosphere creeping in the spaces between my hair,
slowly and frighteningly pulling them out for survival.
Lexi Eve L. Bacala is in her first year of studies in Medical Laboratory Science.
Poetry by Sunshine C. Angcos | October 31, 2022
You don’t wake up in the morning
and pray
for a beautiful day
You clutch the phone under your pillow,
press your fingerprint
on the tempered screen
Should you feel guilty
for liking a friend’s picture
without muttering a single word of praise
You feel blessed already
with 26 laughs
for sharing a meme
Sometimes you feel sorry
that you watch more reels
than visit a Gospel page
You toggle from app to app
like an expert lover
leaving a Mark in each one
On scrolling up you come across
a post
that says:
“Besides that, they learn to be idlers,
going from house to house,
and not only idlers, but also gossips and busybodies…”
For several seconds you press your finger
on the screen
and click Save to phone.
Sunshine C. Angcos owns PrintWaves Davao Book Publishing, a small printing and publishing business which caters for self-published writers.
Poetry by Angela Creman Watts | October 31, 2022
Sa ilawom sa tulay
Naa didtuy mga balay-balay
Naghuot ning dughan ko
Paglantaw kos mga tao
Hugaw nga palibot
Mga iso wa nay saplot
Basura diri, basura didto
Grabi hugaw pay imo
“Te gai kog piso, naghilak akong manghud oh”
Asa imong mama gang?
Ila raman mong gipasagdaan.
Namasura te para naa mi kan-on
Pagtungtong sa kangitngiton.
Pagkasakitay ning gibati ko
Luha ko ga uros-uros na pag-ayo
Igo rako diri milabay
Mga utaw grabi pa diay sa akoag pagsulay
Nanawagan kos mga politika
Tagai tawn ninyug balay ning mga tawhana
Kuyaw kaayo mog plataporma
Igo ra gayod mos storya.
“Kung ako mudaog, ang mga way balay
Dili gayud magmahay”
Sa dihang pila na katuig ang milabay
Igo ra tawn mo nagpahayahay.
Ginoo ko tabangi kog tuktok sa ilang mga kasingkasing,
Na lamdagan ang ilang mga pangutok
Nga mubuhat og maayo ilang mga kamot
Dili lang sigeg pangurakot.
Naglurat ra ning mata ko
Usa raman sad ko ka ultimo nga tawo
Walay maambag, igo ras pagpaabot
Ning pulongang makaingon nalang kog ambot.
Ambot og kanus a pa
Mahatagan og hustisya,
Kapobrehon muhupas na
Pilipinas magmata ka.
Angela Creman Watts is from Lupon, Davao Oriental. She is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University – San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Science in Business Administration.
Poetry by Krisha Rose Pasaol | October 31, 2022
Sama sa dahon
nga way kalibutan
asa kini dad-on
sa lambos sa hangin.
Sama sa ulan
nga wa damha
ang pagtagak niini
sa lapok nga kayutaan.
Unta ikaw sab.
Unta isalig sab nimo
sa kalibutan
kung asa ka man
dad-on sa imong
kamatuoran.
Lubak-lubak o hapsay
man ang dalan.
Timan-i, wa kini gikagul-an
sa dahon ug ulan.
Krisha Rose Pasaol is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University-San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Elementary Education.
Poetry by Jean C. Cano | October 31, 2022
Sa tabunok o batuhon nga yuta ka gipugas
ug bisan usa ka lamang ka lugas,
paningkamoti nga sa umaabot nga puhon
molambo ikaw; nga susama sa katahom
sa adlaw nga likod sa kadulom atoa ikaw padayong magapahiyom.
Timan-i, nga dili sa tanang panahon
abunda kini og tubig nga puno’g gasa.
Adunay mga panahon nga imong
mahiagoman ang kainit sa latos
niining kapait ug kasakit.
Ang kasuko sa paghaguros sa hangin nga mosarasay sa imong pag-gitib ug molokumos sa imong
hamiling pamalandong ug paglaom.
Apan, panamilit; nga ikaw mapaboran sa umaabot nga katigayonan.
Usahay, gikinahanglan nga imong antuson ang gabagang kainit ilawom sa adlaw.
Imong iluom ug lakton ang dalan nga puno sa mga bato nga magapa-angin kanimo.
Ug imo usab saw-on ang tanang kasakit
sa ibabaw nga mogutay-gutay ug mo laya niinging dahon sa paglaom.
Maong gikinahanglan ang
imong dakong pagsalig.
Nga human niining tanan;
ikaw, magapadayong mogitib ug molambo.
Kay dili tanang gipugas sa yuta nga tabunok o batuhon ang nagpadayon.
Tungod sa una palang; ila nang gipatay ang liso sa paglaom niining pag-gitib.
Kay sa una palang napuno na sila sa kahadlok sa pagsugal sa daghang ‘kuntahay dili’.
—Gitib ug tubo kay ikaw liso nga gitaknang sigingon sa panahon aron molambo.
Jean C. Cano is a second year student of Davao Oriental State University-San Isidro Extension Campus, taking up Bachelor of Elementary Education.
Poetry by Tara Yakob Montiflor | October 17, 2022
There is a forest beneath my city
A hundred narra and acacia and mahogany
Hiding beneath the streets,
The buildings, the endless concrete.
There are stories of flowers
Blooming through the pavement,
piercing upwards in incrementing movement,
A process taking weeks, days or even hours
After they were buried.
Such soft things can’t deter a planted seed.
A tree is not a flower, yet their branches
Like veins adorned with dancing green petals
Also reach upward, towards the sun.
There is still a forest here, beneath my city
Poking through the avenues and empty lots.
Particles of greenery, before a time
Of noise and smoke and streets
piercing through
The utterly finite concrete.
Tara Yakob Montiflor is a graduate of BA English (cum laude) from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He was a Best Thesis Finalist for his poetry collection “The Streets will Not Embrace You.”